I do most of my best thinking in the shower. I often think about what and how I want to write. I will think a topic through, life will get in the way and I never actually write about what was going through my mind while I was getting ready in the morning.
I have written so many reviews in the last few weeks, that I really just didn’t find the time to write anything else. This past week I decided to take some time off and although I think it was the right thing to do, I have felt like I should have been writing something.
This morning I went to church and while the prelude was being played I stared at the large cross in the front of the church, thinking about a lot of things.
To be honest, I thought about how I once told someone that I always felt loved in that building, how my church family was there. For those of you who don’t know, I grew up without any kind of church and it left me with a huge hole in my being. My father, who was the dictator in our house, was and is very anti Christian. I knew from a young age that he was wrong in his hardhearted ways, but I had little choice as a youngster. (I often joke that while most kids couldn’t wait to move away to college so they could quit going to church, I couldn’t wait to get away so I could start!)
But today, while I was staring at the cross, I realized how much that has changed. Because of several things that have happened, I realized I felt alienated from the place and people who used to be my church family, my refuge. I no longer feel that I am in a “safe place” when I walk through the doors. A voice in my head was saying, “OK God! I keep coming here, but I am really not feeling it. I still believe in You with all of my heart, but I no longer feel like this is my place anymore. What do I do?”
And then our new minister began to preach. He spoke of love and the kind of church he wanted us to be. The kind of church I want it to be! He spoke of love and how people of different races, political beliefs and sexual orientations could all work together in love, even if they didn’t agree on anything else.
I thought about an experience I had had recently where I worked with two other people judging a theatre competition. We didn’t see eye to eye, but we calmly explained our positions, compromised and worked through it. We worked from a place of respect for each other. I have told many people how much I enjoyed and treasured that experience. Three people, tossed together and expected to come to an agreement. And we did!
Little by little I have let myself be pushed out of my own church. I have pulled out of every organization, every committee, every study. I have let an injustice that I feel deeply about make me angry enough to withdraw from what used to be my second home. I have seen the ugly underbelly of the politics of the church and I have longed to move elsewhere. In ways I have almost felt escorted out.
This morning as I thought about that before the service, as I asked God what I should do, I realized that part of my problem was feeling like we, as a church, have made some people feel “less than” because of who they are. And I realized I was letting myself feel less than lately.
I got to church this morning and was greeted by a friend who told me I had dragged in as if I was pulling a truck behind me. And quite frankly, that is how I felt. Usually one to walk with a spring in my step, I was feeling old and left out.
Feeling isolated and separated, feeling alienated and alone in a church full of people is a terrible feeling. I thought of some of my friends who felt like that and just quit going to church and I could understand their decisions. Being made to feel less than because of their race or gender or sexual preference is not what they need or expect from a place that professes love. I was feeling less than in my own head, and for whatever reason I was feeling it acutely today.
So the preacher maps out how we aren’t going to do that anymore, how we are going to get along and be guided by love, by how we are alike and not how we are different. He says all of the things that were filling up my heart and head when I dragged myself into church. I felt tears pouring out of my eyes and as he finished I felt the urge to jump up and applaud!
But I go to a church where you don’t do that. We have almost no one who shouts out “Amen!” (Although there used to be an older gentleman who would do just that!) We don’t lift our hands during prayer or “shout to the Lord!” or get “moved by the Spirit!” Our choir can’t even figure out how to sway! So although I wanted to stand and shout, I didn’t. Then I heard someone else begin to clap and it gave me the courage to join in loudly and before long pretty much everyone had joined in.
As I stood to leave I saw a friend I haven’t seen in a long time and she was crying uncontrollably. She has a very personal reason that this sermon meant the world to her and her family. Without words I knew how she was feeling and we hugged. Outside I ran into another friend who has been going through a lot and was able to hug her. Then later at the pet store of all places I ran into another church family member. It was like God was saying, “You are not alone. Others will stand and applaud with you, others are there to share their trials with you and need you, and others are just there to be your friend and talk about cats with you.”
I don’t know that I am ready to rejoin any committees or groups right away. I am not sure if I am ready to just forget the hurt I have felt. I am not sure what the future holds for me, but I do know I love God and I want to be a part of a church that can indeed just love each other and work together for good, despite our differences.
