I am part of the body of this church, even if sometimes I feel like an incongruo

us organ transplanted from something else: the swimbladder of a fish, or a cat's

third eyelid.
I relate to and feel the idea of a human Jesus, a man who wished to change the w
orld for the better, to care for others, to challenge authorities and hold them
to account. But beyond that, God? Heaven? Eternity? I am mired on this plane of
reality, looking on a little dumbly as others experience something I don't gras
p let alone feel. Sometimes it can be a little alienating, simply because as int
imate spiritual connections are enacted and re-enacted anew, I don't feel I can
participate.
There is a fine line of paradox here, where I don't believe but act in a way tha
t is respectful of the object of non-belief.
As an example, God may be okay with me coming to the communion table, but there
is a level of relationship that I am uncomfortable with, like wearing someone el
se's underwear. You'd need to be very close to me for me to consider it.
I do wish that last night in Awestruck I had helped someone reaffirm their bond
with God. I would not have been in any way comfortable receiving the blessing, b
ut as I think about it, I would have liked to act as part of the body in being a
ble to assist in administering it. What I feel is nowhere near as important as w
hat the person reaffirming their bond is feeling. For I am still a part of this
body, even if I am a strange, perhaps unwitting member.