Growing up, it was engrained from various churches and examples that the only way to love God is with utmost respect for our Lord, kneeling in shame, praising His name, in solemn acceptance that this religion was the only ‘correct’ one. Just like in any game, winning is the end goal, but truly the way you get there does matter, in fact, more than anything else. So, I found my own way. Rebeliously I broke free of religion, but I was torn too because I never was willing to break free from God, for the Holy Spirit has truly lived within me in all the crazy life altering choices in my life. I repeatedly found God, and I let him redefine who He was to me. He made Himself reachable to me. He lowered Himself to my level like an adult does for a child, making me feel more at peace. He told me to erase everything I heard about him and told me to discover who He was on a clean slate, which He provided.

So here I am, at church. There is a massive healing fireplace that gives me a place to escape and stare. There are couches. I am wearing converse instead of high heels, and ripped jeans instead of a Sunday dress. I am curled up with my feet on the couches. I feel comfortable in God’s home. I feel comfortable in His love for me. I feel safe. Many would see my feet on His furniture as disrespectful for sure, and it may be. Yet, for me He has always promised me to come as I am. He says he wants time with me and that He is isn’t here for the way I look, or my habits that don’t line up with others; that He just wants time with me and with my heart. For me the living room of God is home to me, home for my soul, for my ripped jeans, dirty hair, and converse. All He sees is my heart and my heart is bowed in complete humility and trust, far more than it ever was when I wore religion and high heels.

Curled up in my converse on Christ Comfy Couches. There’s no place or way… He would rather I be. Home. Feb26.18