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So, yesterday, I ventured into the Sunday school class at the small country church we've been attending recently. It wasn't the first time I'd been to the class and probably, maybe, won't be the last time. Every other time I've been, it's been rather non-descript. We've had a lesson, answered a few questions, joked around a little, and moved on. But, yesterday, the lesson over, the leader of the class began to read emails to us and tell us personal stories that got a lot of nods of approval and cheers from the rest of the class.
Just not from me.
I sat silent through them, growing ever more uncertain and feeling more and more alone as time passed. I toyed with the idea of getting up and walking out of the room, quietly, maybe with an apology and excuse of finding my husband, but I couldn't manage to do anything but sit there staring blankly at the table in front of me.
The subject matter doesn't really matter. It was the same ol' same ol' that floats around email and facebook and even on the evening news just regurgitated and given a "holier than thou" twist since we were sitting in a church.
What mattered was that it was derogatory and sometimes verged on being hateful ... to who? To anyone who didn't believe the way they did. Sigh.
Why do we, as people, do that to one another? What is the purpose?
And what is my purpose of being able to see it like I do ... if I can't say anything at all?
My tongue hurts from biting it.
My heart hurts from hearing it.
My spirit hurts just from finding it, yet again, in the one place that should be filled with people who know better.
In Christ.
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