We reply, “Thanks be to God.” I used to cringe when saying that. But now it feels different. Now it feels like (deep breath, exhale): THANKS BE TO GOD Body of Christ, broken. My heart, broken. My life, broken. I think I had to let myself be broken, to be broken and die, to let the best parts of me live. These days, I’m okay with sweating in church. I’m home. Home with Harrison and our girls. Home in a church where I can tell people who I am, and they love me anyway. Home in a church where sweating is normal. It’s not a cold sweat. It’s not fearful. It’s just real. Because the people are real.
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