Retreat

I've just gotten back from an overnight women's church retreat. It was delightful.

It felt sort of like diving into a refreshing spring of sparkling water, in more ways than one. Fellowship with like-minded sisters in Christ is better than a day at the spa to me. (And a day at the spa is pretty good, I'll be the first to admit.)

The music was such a treat, too. I got to belt out all four verses of Amazing Grace at the top of my lungs, and still only hear the combined harmony of worshipping voices without my own caterwauling standing out. I love that. I cried like a baby when two women from Cameroon sang some worship songs in their native African tongue. And I walked around all day today humming "My chains are gone, I've been set free, my God my Saviour has ransomed me."

Actually I cried like a baby about pretty much everything this weekend. A casual observer would be tempted to think that my life is in shambles upon seeing all the salty trails steaming down my cheeks over the past 24 hours. But really, nothing could be further from the truth. My life is fine. I'm not suffering from any major trauma at the moment. I'm not wrestling with past hurts and failures right now either. I've dealt with all of those things before, but I don't happen to be right now. I'm simply overwhelmed by God.

As soon as the speaker read the first Bible verse on Friday night, I got misty. And it only got worse after that. About mid-morning Saturday I even gave up on that trying-not-to-let-the-others-see-my-embarassing-tears business. It was a lost cause anyway. I was dripping. A sprinkler. A leaking faucet.

It wasn't even that the message the speaker delivered was revolutionary. I've heard most of it before, maybe in a slighty different presentation, but still, the same basic prinicples were presented. I just needed to hear it again I suppose.

It's been a while since the gospel made me weep. It felt good.