Grateful for this post Allie. I’m thinking of several weeks ago when I attended an Ash Wednesday service at a local church. It was really the first time I had stepped into a church of my own free volition since moving to Seattle. I could feel churning in my stomach that only increased as I reached for the handle on the front door. The soft glow of dimmed lights coupled with worship music playing in the background felt all too familar. I’m not sure what I left at the front door of the church — my body, my vulnerability — certainly not my internal tendency to critique… But what I didn’t attend to was what I was feeling in my bones, the way I felt uncomfortable in my seat as distant and dark memories of evangelical church services flooded my psyche. What would it look like to bring that to church, to create truthful and vulnerable space for my ambivalent and visceral eccleisal ache to somehow exist in the air, next to raised arms and sweaty palms held open for the coming of the Spirit?