Flurry and Flutter for the One Who Loves You

Altarguild and Homemaking

I had my first altar guild meeting a week ago. As I entered the nave, I felt immediately the magnified beauty– it was gloomy and overcast outside and somehow, I felt the windows glowing more. It was a different sort of glow than on a bright Sunday morning– a more even diffusion of gentle light. And so, so quiet. I hope you know the secret, close joy of being in an empty nave– it instinctually makes me breathless, wide-eyed and awake, awake to a rest that feels alive, and a dearness like a hug.

I knew from the moment I was handed the meeting’s agenda that I would be bombarded with terms I did not know, but I was surrounded by women who knew, and that was enough for me. I remember how close the exasperation was of not knowing, of too much to handle– I remember seeing that feeling lurking in the shadows, thinking of how easy it would be to let myself feel it– but it was all kept at bay, because of one thought.

“All this fussing… Yes– all this fussing for the King of the Universe who comes to dwell with you here.” Is there anything in the world better to fuss over? Anything more worthy of fussing, of effort, of close attention to detail? Nothing in the world, dear Lord, is more worthy of all of this than preparing your house for you.

Is there something in altar guild that is homemaking?

I’ve been delighting, deep and true, in making our home a place of rest and peace for my husband to come home to. When I was single, I never could fathom the way that dishes and laundry and cleaning could bring me joy– all of it lies in the deep breath that comes from my husband’s lungs when he crosses the threshold, in the look of baffled gratitude and the hug.

When I enter behind that altar rail, sometimes I forget the sheer wonder of it. I am setting everything in order for Christ to come home, setting the table for our wedding feast. Of course we will use silver, engraved and embossed, of course we will iron and press the embroidered linens. Thou art the thing that we long for whenever we long. There is a hollowed out place in our hearts that is exactly your size–no wonder it feels so vast. And here, you are coming to fill it! The One who loves us is coming.

It all makes me think of when Ethan came home last week from his school retreat. He had been gone three days, and I was all a flurry and flutter the hours before he walked through the door. You should have seen the way I was rushing around, putting everything right in every room, doing countless little tasks he wouldn’t specifically notice, but which would lead to an overall feeling of peace, I was sure. Breathless from all I had done, and from pure anticipation.

The One who loves you is coming.

We, the body of Christ, are his home, his wife– he comes to dwell with us. So then, I have to wonder, how am I preparing for him? Am I tending the altar of my heart, setting up the prayers in my memory, the candles for vision into the unseen? Does the tabernacle where he dwells stay closed for days on end? Do I even come to meet him?

No matter the state my heart is in, I know I will feel his embrace when I cross the threshold of his presence. And Lord, that makes me feel like I can take any struggle in the whole wide world– knowing you’ll be there, knowing you’ll carry me. But still, I want to ready myself for you. I want to properly set up my desires and my loves, to cover my pride and force it on one knee, to tend to the flame in my heart that should always be burning– for you are within me– and wherever you are, light should be lit.