A Church For Somebody

Welcome to church.

People enter, one by one, smiling that nervous smile. The smile that is too aware of the truth it's about to speak.

There's no sitting silently here. Every person will talk. Every person will share their sins.

Every person will sympathize with one another and it will be heartfelt and it will be real. It won't be an awkward hug, it will be a human embrace. 

This church is honest; everyone's got their ghosts swimming in their heads. Those memories of bad moments of judgement. Moments that turned into years of their lives. 

These pews aren't filled with people trying to save face in front of their neighbors.

These pews are filled with people who have been rocked to their bones, exposed to their core, and dirtied up by life's curve balls. 

These pews are filled with people looking their weaknesses in the eyes. 

These pews are filled with people brave enough to say, "I can't do this on my own. I'm here for help."

These pews are filled with people stripping down to their most vulnerable place and asking for a shoulder to lean on; a little love. 

These pews are filled with people ready to let the world in, let some light in and push the dark out.

These pews are filled with people done with pretending. 

It's honest. It's accepting. It's raw. It's supportive. 

It's regimented. It's step by step. Once a day, once a week, once a year. 

And the preacher stands up and says, "Welcome to Alcoholics Anonymous."