testimonials

New Life in Christ
Reflections on the Mikvah Experience
By Jennie Churchman 

In the afternoon hours of Sunday, December 31, The Way did something different:  the Mikvah Experience.  “What is a mikvah?” you may be wondering.  A mikvah is a ritual bath for cleansing common among women in the Jewish community.  While it has been a part of the Jewish faith for millennia, the mikvah experience has recently been expanded to include rituals of healing and renewal—for people going through divorce, for couples unable to conceive, for survivors of abuse, for men and women searching for new direction in their lives.  This is the power of ritual:  to take a simple action, such as bathing in warm water, and turn it into a sacred act.  The Way is, we believe, one of the first Christian communities ever to offer such an experience.  I want to tell you what happened to me.
I almost missed it.  I had planned to get into the mikvah (a.k.a. the baptistry) early in the afternoon, but time got away from me as it usually does on Sundays.  So I spent the day helping others prepare for and process their experience with the mikvah instead.  Just hearing their stories lifted my spirits, and I thought it might be enough for me to experience it vicariously through them.  But it wasn’t.  The later it got, the stronger I felt the pull from the mikvah’s waters.  By 4:00, I was desperate to have my own Mikvah Experience, but it was getting late.  The Way begins at 5:00, and I was not even finished preparing our space for worship.   Much too late for a mikvah, I told myself.  By 4:10, I was restless and pacing.  Almost everything was ready for The Way, and what wasn’t ready could easily be delegated.  It was now or never.  I changed into my bathing suit.
The first thing I noticed as I stepped into the baptistry was how good the water felt.  The heat was just right, and the depth of the baptistry took the experience beyond a regular bath into something altogether different.  The next thing I noticed was how difficult it was for me to turn my brain off.  I was still rushing around mentally, trying to get everything ready for The Way.  So I prayed.  “Be still and know that I am God.  Be still and know.  Be still.  Be still.  Be.  Just be.”  Eventually my spirit was calmed, and I simply relaxed in the waters.  And that’s when all the thoughts that I was trying so hard to suppress with my busy-ness came rushing in.  You see, December 31, 2006 was a day I had been dreading for a long time.
Several years ago, my husband and I agreed that if we had not had a second child by the end of 2006, we would stop with one.  That was a hard promise for me to make, but I made it thinking surely we would have another baby by then.  As the years and months flew by, it became heartbreakingly clear to me that I was going to have to keep my promise.  I didn’t want to.  I thought about begging and whining and pouting until my husband gave in—which he probably would have done.  But then I would have been left with the nagging guilt that I talked him into something he really didn’t want to do.  I don’t like to live with guilt.  So, after more than a few tears in November, I set my face toward the end of the year knowing that I would have to keep my promise—for my sake as well as his. 
All the old thoughts came swirling in as I floated in the water.  Why?  Why is it so easy for everybody else to have a baby?  What is wrong with me?  How can my body let me down like this?  That last one is really the deepest disappointment—I’ve been betrayed by my own body.  I can’t even get away from the source of my pain; I have to live in it.  Do you know how hard it is to reconcile yourself with yourself?  “Jennie, snap out of it.  This mikvah is supposed to be a healing experience.  Quit wallowing.”  I took a couple of deep breaths and then prayed again, “OK God.  Clearly I’m not strong enough to quit wallowing on my own.  I need a sign or a message or something, and make it quick because The Way is about to start, and I need to go.”  (Definitely not the model of prayer I would recommend, but at least you know I’m being real here.) 
I stayed in the water another minute more before the distractions of the day caught up with me again.  It was 4:45, time to get going.  I stood to leave the baptistry, and that’s when I saw it:  New life in Christ.  The banners above the doors at the back of the sanctuary were my message, and they were my blessing.  New life in Christ.  I may not ever have new life growing in me again, but I can always have new life living in me.  New life in Christ.  I may feel betrayed and abandoned by my own body for now, but I will never be betrayed or abandoned by my Savior who loves me.  New life in Christ.  I may have a long road ahead of me before I stop pining for what was not meant to be, but I will not walk that road alone.  New life in Christ.   And perhaps, just perhaps, my story can bring healing to another on this painful journey.  New life in Christ.  That is my message.  That is my blessing.