When We Decided to Not Quit Church

I almost walked away from church when I was a freshman in college. If you want the real story, I somewhat did exactly that: I was churchless for about three months. I didn't want to go. My pain was real. My confusion ran deep. Everything about the word "church" sounded weird and awful and bitter in my mouth.

Some of you know what I mean. For many of us, some of our worst thoughts are regarding church.

Here's a confession: some of my greatest wounds have been from church; some of my most powerful restoration has been, too.

I get it love, really and truly.

So the question lingers: why didn't I quit for good?

Because somewhere in those three months, in my mess and wandering and intentional isolation, I became lonely and realized that I needed real people. Because when I had an outrageous number of doubts, I had a community that created a safe place to ask the hard questions. Because one church showed me that they aren't all the same, and because even now though I've moved cities and houses and beautiful people behind, that community still gives me a call every now and then, just to hear how things are going. Because those people in that church, the one that redefined the word "church" for me as I had ever known it, are still near and dear to my heart, and I believe that they forever will be.

I have a new church now, in the tiny town of Abilene, and it is authentic and raw and real and the best sort of messy. Hope Church is a church that embraces the idea of table fellowship, because food brings people together and Jesus calls us all to the table of grace. We worship every Sunday evening (because that's perfectly alright), and after every service we eat and eat until we can eat no more.

And this summer, I am working in a different church. Agape Church of Christ is a tiny church located in downtown Portland, and let me tell you: it's surely a small slice of heaven on earth. We are small yet strong; we are loving yet logical. We study the text real deep and then go out and serve real hard. Agape is all city days and summer nights, good beer and lots of laughter. We are we; there is no "us" versus "them". We are homeless and we are hurting. We are pregnant and we are celebrating. Young, old, tall, short, quiet, loud. We are diverse in all sorts of ways, and we are weird because we are in Portland. We are mourning and we are dancing, and we are walking life together, all judgment cast aside.

It was yesterday that helped me to answer the question, the one of why I haven't yet quit church.

The sermon made me cry because it was so full of truth, and the singing was powerful and strong. None of this is the reason for why I have stayed though. Here's the deal: people leave church for all sorts of reasons, some justified, but some maybe not so much. Two of the biggest truths I've ever heard are regarding church: the first, church is not about you. The second, the church should be the hands and feet of Jesus.

Sometimes, I believe God prefers that we stick it out and stay. Sometimes God wants to use us to bring change or to speak truth or to serve when it's hard.

Other times though, leaving is perfectly alright.

It takes prayer and good counsel. It takes listening to the Spirit, because it's the breath of God in our lungs after all.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I believe that wandering the wilderness is a good and healthy route: sometimes it needs to be just us and God. Sometimes we need to get away from the Church to fall back in love with the idea of the Church. Let us not forget though the beauty of community, the truth that we are all made to love and be loved.

Somewhere along the way that truth took root real deep.

And I realized it yesterday.

Because when I drive along the bridge, the big, amazing, beautifully designed white one, my favorite view is the ocean below me and those mountains before me. Because when I park my car and turn off the ignition, members of the body are already unloading the trailer. Because when I walk up those steps, I admire the artwork on the walls for the billionth time.

Because we meet in a school building, a rented out space that we must be clear of by noon each Sunday. Because Louie is always there when I walk in, eating donuts and waving hi to everyone that's passing. Because everyone helps with setup, those people grabbing chairs and other people putting out tables, kids running around because this is an absolute safe space. Because Rowanna always hugs me and I love hearing about her week, and when she asks me about mine I know that she genuinely wants to know. She believes everything so deeply, especially the power of prayer.

Because Lem leads worship like nobody's business, and his dancing and singing and ad-libbing makes me smile every time. Because our praise team is my favorite: an assortment of talent, both young and old. Because most Sundays someone claps offbeat and every Sunday I encounter the Holy Spirit in ways that I can't describe.

Because when my dear friend Heather is weary from baby-chasing, I take little Cade man in my arms and give her a break. We all need to help each other out sometimes. Because that little two year old girl over there is the cutest sight you ever did see, running around and staring up at you, eyes brown and big. This place has babies galore and a few more on the way, but we wouldn't change a single thing.

Because when we take communion, not a single soul is turned away. All are welcome 'round this Jesus circle, all are welcome to the table of grace. Because that girl up front has pink highlights, and because our pastor's wife has blue streaks in her hair. Because my nose ring is called cute and tattoos aren't condemned or seen as scary. Because women are empowered and because children aren't marginalized; we've got better things to do with our time than be sexist or engage in power struggles. Because what role someone holds is solely based upon what spiritual giftings he/she has.

I mean, why would you want it any other way?

Because these people will all come together again multiple times that week. Because this group gets it completely: church is more than just a building. Because though we believe in sanctification, in becoming more and more like Jesus, we don't engage legalism or ideas of perfection or unrealistic standards. We are authentic all the time, because we know we are people; not cupcakes. Because we aren't made of frosting and sprinkles. We are made of much stronger stuff.

Because even though we get it wrong some days, though the hurt still comes and the pain is so real, we carry each others' burdens, and we don't shy away from the hard places. Because we will sit in the sadness with you, no matter how real the darkness is. Because Jesus is our hope, and the Spirit brings us light. Because we have an open-door policy: get in these arms, because Christ loves you too.

You beautiful, wonderful, child of God you.

Because I know that I can't do life alone. It's too damn hard, and I need other people. Because I need to be around people that love Jesus, and I think maybe they need it too. Because we are different and the same, for God loves us all no matter how diverse.

Because we are inclusive. Because we care. Because we believe that God meets us where we're at.

Because Sunday is finally a day that I look forward to.

Because I've realized over time how much I love this story, the one of God and people and all things hope. Because I believe it in my soul. I crave it every day. Because I need a body of believers, and they exist love, I promise. We are real and we are living it, this here and to come kingdom.

If I ever have children, and I really hope I do, I want them to live this way. Not the legalistic, judgmental, rules and regulations sort of way, but the deeper kind: the real, authentic, roll around in the grass and get your feet dirty sort of way. I want them to live. I want them to love. And I want them to do life with people who believe in God, too.

If you've been burned by the church, I am truly, deeply, honest-to-God sorry. Chin up, buttercup. There is grace. There is another chance. There is something better. There is still hope yet.

There is beauty to come. There is something grand coming, something to heal and restore and reconcile all things. It's a kingdom unlike any other. I promise you, we are living it. We, the resurrection people, are living, craving, breathing some sort of hope.

And this is why I can't quit church.

Sarah Bessey has written a post about her own church experience that has inspired my own reflection as well as helped me through my own struggles/experiences. Her words may speak life to you as well, over at her blog.