Ok, Mr. Miller, if life doesn’t happen on a couch, where does it happen?
I’m back in a prayer room. I haven’t been in a place like this for about 2 years now and it feels just as awkward and uncomfortable as it did the first time. It looks like KC does on the live feed with the monochromatic furniture and carpet and the mood lighting on stage. Right now, with sparse musicians and even fewer worshipers, it feels like a canvas waiting to be painted on… and I’m good at that.
At this exact moment all I can think about is Gateway and Ryan and Alayna and I’m actually sitting here crying. Yesterday I sat in a dimly lit sanctuary and watched a short curly haired man tell his almost girlfriend to come introduce herself to me, as though I was in some youth group for the socially challenged. She took the long walk around the sanctuary and I met my best friend. And I got a new life.
I don’t know what I’m expecting. Maybe I just wanted something familiar, and I don’t feel wholly uncomfortable here. But it doesn’t feel like home either. I’ll have to bring a sweater tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow. Because I will be back. Because life doesn’t happen on a couch.