I should probably preface this blog with the disclaimer that I am just coming out of a few days of funky heart rhythms, and when that happens, it messes with my whole life. It shakes up everything, and sends me to the couch, floating on beta blockers, and feeling very "disabled". I don't like it one little bit, so I act like a 2 year old, and throw a little fit. The fit turns into anxiety and a full-blown pity-party if I let it, and then I'm just sad for a minute. (Big sigh.) Then I pray. God has taken some words from the Mass, and has put them on a continual loop in my head.
Right before Communion, just moments before we take the body and blood of Christ into our bodies to become one with Him on a cellular level, we speak the truest words ever spoken. "Lord, I am not worthy to receive you..." Most people kind of mumble these words in that hushed monotone church voice that blends into everyone else's monotone church voice. I know these words are true. I am NOT worthy! I'm human, therefore I'm naughty by nature. For some reason, every time I say these words I channel my "inner soul sister" and it comes out sounding like it might have a Z-snap and one hand on a hip, and big BIG emphasis on the word NOT! But I mean it! I'm NOT worthy. That's the good news, He loves me anyways. I mess up and have to reconcile with God over and over and over. Fortunately, he's like a loving grandmother, and punishes you with his "big hand" for a minute, then tells you how he loves you and doesn't want you to get hurt. Then he holds you close and offers you a Little Debbie snack cake...or some kind of equivalent, comfort-type thing.
The second half of this prayer is really hard for me to understand. The whole thing goes like this: "Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed." Healed? I'm not sure if this prayer is talking about healed of my unworthiness or healed, like healed of my sickness. The story in the Bible is about a guard who wants Jesus to heal his loved one, and he says these words, and Jesus heals the guy's daughter (I think it was a daughter). So when I pray this part, I'm asking for healing of all of it. And I wait and watch. I accept the body of Christ into my body with love and respect, knowing exactly who he is and exactly what I am not.
"Only say the Word." God, please! On a day like this, say the word! Heal me and make me whole. Just like Peter's mother-in-law, heal me up so I can serve you. All it takes is one word from God's lips, and it's all healed. All of it! My sinful nature, my flippy-floppy heart rhythm, my fear, my anxiety, my worries about those people I love who count on me to be the strong one. All of it. So why doesn't he just say the word?
The truth is, I'm not ready for him to say the word. I'm not ready to be healed. Of my unworthiness, I am ready, but of the rest of it, No. I need to learn more about suffering and pain. Just like a little kid that stomps his feet to get what he wants, I have to learn a different way. I send my kids to the pew, God sends me to the couch. It's fair, but I don't like it. I still need to truly understand that He can "say the Word" and change everything. He IS "saying the Word" every single day I wake up still in this life. I don't get to choose what my healing looks like. I know God has things to teach me.
"Lord, I am not worthy to receive you" and I am not yet ready for you to receive me into your kingdom. "But only say the Word," when you are ready and I am ready, "and I shall be healed." Whatever that looks like to you.