I live in an egg shell. It has no seams and covers me thoroughly People tell me that this white shell is protective and even comforting. But I can only see it as a barrier, preventing my yolk from being free or being used to make a cake for someone to eat. “Born free, as free as the wind blows, as free as the grass grows. What happened to my freedom? It got placed in a cradle-roll-sized shell and then a My-Little-Friend-sized shell and then a Primary-Treasure-sized shell and then a Guide-sized shell and then an Insight-sized shell. Soon I will be in the Adventist Review- size and still won't know what the shell means. Why am I in this shell anyway? The truth is I was born into a family that believes in this particular shell which happens to be white. But I could have just as easily ended up in one that is brown or speckled or painted green and orange with purple polka dots. There must be some greater relevance to my shell than just being born into it. Doesn't it involve a choice? Up until now, I've never made that choice. One day, I will have to, and I won't know what I'm choosing between or whether the choice is even important. Is this shell what is really important anyway? Or is it something else? This white shell has become such a barrier to me that I can't see beyond it. My empty soul searches for something more, but I can find nothing within, and I can't look out. I find myself focusing on the shell rather than my Creator (the Hen?). Isn't that backward? Shouldn't I be focused on the One who made me? I don't know how to move past this misplaced gaze. I do know how to sing “Onward Christian Soldiers" and put dollar bills in the offering plate and put on a “Sabbath dress" and wash my brother's feet and sit for an hour on a pew and kneel on a hard floor and drone the responsive reading at the correct time and, I don't know how to talk to God, or express what I can't find within myself, or develop faith, or feel full when I am empty, or comfort a spirit in need of uplifting, or rejoice without hesitation or embarrassment, or love something I can't see or, or, or... My whole being screams out that there has to be something more to the spiritual experience than what I see in church. Church seems to be a focus on the outside, not the inside, my pure exterior rather than my confused interior. And I ask myself, what is more important the shell or the yolk? What is more important my religion or my spirituality? What is more important my action or my heart?

C

R

A

C

K?!