Losing religion

This morning, we heard a most amazing sermon given in regards to being Lost. It was not your expected fire and brimstone sermon, but rather a different take on the being Lost, in a good way. She spoke of a suddenness of Lent and how just as some of us have seated ourselves by the manger, we are taken by the hand and led through this season of loss towards Easter, and we can get a little lost in the story. As she spoke of being lost, I began to think about that concept, and how, for me, this feeling of being lost isn’t a foreign concept, but rather, something I enjoy.

I often go for drives, just to get lost and discover new paths, new shortcuts, new sights, smells, and sounds. Although, I’m never truly lost, as long as I know where I’ve been. We can always go back, but who wants to go back when the journey forward holds so much promise and excitement, and almost never disappoints? There are those “ah ha!” moments when we realize that these alternate routes, those detours put us back on the road we were traveling with those we thought we had left behind, and we can once again continue our journey forward together.

Other times, we find ourselves, deep in the unmarked savannnah, on a wild safari, heading in no right direction, with darkness falling, and only the knowledge that we know where we have been, and the fear of forgetting where we’ve come from, affords us the courage to turn around and find our way back to that which is known, to that which is marked out for us. Those moments do not mean we have been wrong, nor wasted our time, but allow us the freedom to learn, to see new things we never could see without venturing out into the savannah. Those moments of complete disorientation remind us of what is real and concrete, and we can choose again that which is true.

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