Wrestling with Our Father

We are following a new rhythm. Instead of having our community meet on a Sunday, we meet on either a Wednesday or Thursday evening. The big idea behind it? To become Church. To live it. To not only attend and live Christianity through a paid professional. To engage with God and each other on this journey...

As part of the new rhythm, we have also decided to do 'homework', or engage in agreed activities every week. A part of this week's commitment is to do Lectio Divina on the "Our Father" prayer.

When we sang the "Our Father" on Wednesday, I started crying. Even now, I battle to get further than ''Our Father". Somehow, thinking of God as a Father, wanting to watch over me and care for me is just so foreign and inconceivable.

I do not "feel" this love. I battle so see it. Thinking this out loud makes me feel ungrateful.

Thinking of God as a black woman, cooking and talking and laughing, is just so much easier.

Today I wonder if God would mind if I switch these images... if only to get to the next line of the prayer.