stories | Faith

Liturgy: “When I couldn’t be consoled by my mother’s hug…”

December 9, 2018 | King's Liturgy

What is the King’s Liturgy? King’s Liturgy defines our experience together as a Christian community. It outlines the rhythms we celebrate with the Church at large: Scripture readings, Sabbath habits, and celebration of Holy Days and historical events.

This Week’s Lectionary Readings
Malachi 3:1-4
Philippians 1:3-11
Luke 3:1-6
Canticle 4 (Luke 1:68-79)

This week’s liturgy is contributed by Katie Steele Capuzzo, FiDi housing director and advisor to the House of Sojourner Truth:

I’ve always found it easy to affirm and encourage others about God’s promises for their life, and more difficult to fully believe His goodness for my own. Of course, I believe that God is good and He provides, but at times, I hear myself saying the holy things while not fully trusting Him in the unknown. It’s not until something sad or scary or life-altering happens (or in my case all three) that I notice the distance I’ve allowed to build up in our relationship.

A year ago, I went to sleep with what felt like a cold and woke up with the inability to lift my arms and legs. What followed was a few ups and many downs, literal falling downs, and mental and spiritual downs. I never thought that the simple act of removing the lid from my lip balm or walking up the stairs would suddenly become a miracle to accomplish.

As you can imagine, I was terrified of my current state, but more than that, I felt an overwhelming fear at the thought of what could be. I was flown to Nashville and admitted to Vanderbilt Hospital, where countless tests were run and fewer answers revealed. Here I was, in one of the best research hospitals in the country with highly recognized neurologists and rheumatologists studying my every movement (and lack thereof), and they were stumped. In 3rd grade when I wrote about my desire to be unique and rare, this is not what I had in mind.

My “aha” moment came one night after having blood drawn for what felt like the millionth time. Heart monitor humming in the background, I listened to Kari Jobe sing “I am not alone, You will go before me, You will never leave me.” At a time when I couldn’t be consoled by my mother’s hug or a doctor’s knowledge, I felt a comfort in God’s promise that I had never known before.

Receiving a concrete diagnosis became less important to me. I began thanking God for my weakness, for through it, I understood my neediness for the first time. With every prayer whispered and 1 lb. weight lifted, I grew a bit stronger.

It took a major life event for me to realize the undeniable truth in Philippians 1:6. God doesn’t quit when I’ve thrown myself a pity party or when the experts are stumped or when I distract myself with a sale at Anthropologie. He will complete the work He began in me… in all of us, should we surrender and trust him to do so. Through many tears and cries of confusion, I’ve come to realize the gift that has been in front me all along. To find joy in the little things. To see a miracle in the ordinary. To feel peace in the storm. This is the beginning of a life lived to the fullest