Maundy Thursday. This week feels heart-wrenchingly sad. Like someone has been pushing on your chest, waiting for your ribs to cave in and you to fall to pieces.
Stupidly, I worry about tonight. I presume from a different point of view to most. I am terrified of silence. Silence is scary. External silence, and the fact I don't have any music from the moment I play the last verse of the post-communion hymn as they strip the church before 9pm, until I get home at gone midnight (in an ideal situation). That generally would send me into meltdown mode. Complete meltdown mode. The voices can run riot. The planning can get worse. I come home feeling like the most rubbish person ever. Because my silent prayer to God has been plagued by this stupid stuff up here. *points to head*
Sometimes I can cope with being a bit mental and being a Christian. The church feels like home, I am employed by them as a musician. I first went into that church when I was 2 days old. Mum took me. I was baptised there. Confirmed there. Went through the horrible weeks of dealing with my grandmother's unexpected death - her funeral was there. If I want time away from the world, I go to the church. I once locked myself in the church and sobbed for hours. Couldn't deal with the head stuff, couldn't deal with the unsafe world, so I went and took mental refuge in there. Churches are not all being a Christian is, in fact, the building shouldn't have much importance - however the church that has been the stable factor of my life. "I'm just popping down to church" is a key phrase for me.
Today though, I can't cope with being a bit mental and being Christian. I feel utterly to blame for the years of trauma I have put those around me under. Utterly to blame for letting the mental stuff get to me. For not making me follow God quite how I intended. I'm sure it was how he intended, but it feels a bit of a cop-out. The cross around my neck feels futile, when my head shouts "Kill". Because people in Jerusalem shouted "Crucify him", and I feel like the voices are shouting "Kill him/her/it/me". Feels wrong. I feel so guilty for the mentalness.
I can't even have my feet washed because my feet are scarred messes, which I am horrifically ashamed by.
So yes, today hurts. Tomorrow hurts. Like someone is challenging me too much, crushing me. And I do come out stronger every year. But this horrible crushing feeling, when I am separated from the events by time and space, feels awful. God be in my heart, and in my speaking, my thinking, and filling my head. The mentalness shall pass, silence shall not seem such a frightening prospect, and I shall follow the path set for me. Jesus Christ died for us, and I am forever grateful. Praise him, praise him when it feels so wrong, praise him when it feels so right, praise in morning, noon, and night.