I love church.
But there was a time when I didn’t care about it all that much.
As a kid who grew up going to Sunday School and Big Church and all those Christianese names we came up with for our specific Sunday morning gatherings, church was kind of just a thing good people did. You go on Sundays and Wednesdays, and you felt guilty when you didn’t – not because it had that much of an impact on your personal life, but because… it’s just something you were supposed to do, some vague standard you believed God held you to and was disappointed when you fell short.
So I went. But I never really experienced or really even knew things like community orvulnerability were a thing, not until later. I threw myself into activities like choir and youth group and later youth group leading. I could put on the nametag that said, Hello, My Name Is “Productive Member of the Body of Christ”. And as we Christians, or Americans, or simply just people often do, I let my worth get tied to my performance, my level of helpfulness, you know – doing the Lord’s work, as if God couldn’t do it Himself.
I guess that really started to change when I started attending Celebrate Recovery, a 12-step, Christ-centered recovery program for people of all backgrounds and hurts, habits, and hang-ups (which is everyone, in case you missed that). Up until that point, I had never been around people who let all their issues hang out. People who could stand in front of a group of mostly strangers and say, “I’m a believer in Jesus Christ who struggles with food addiction/codependency/alcohol addiction/people approval/control… and my name is _______.” I started to recognize the names of those struggles swirling around in me. And I experienced the freedom of actually saying, Yeah, me too.
In those days, God started opening my eyes to what real church looked like. Not abuilding, place where we can feel good about greeting newcomers and serving donuts and showing off our Sunday best. But a place where we can be real about our crap, because our “goodness” doesn’t make us good enough, because we're gathering in a Name other than our own. And, once the masks are finally off, we can empower each other to pursue Him instead of the ideal images of ourselves.
In those days, God gave me people who pointed out the lies I believed about myself and about Him. Lies like… I missed the mark. I’m not good at anything. I am not valuable. God is disappointed in me. I can’t hear the voice of God. If I just had more faith, God would give me ________. I will never be at peace…
And He said, Blessed are those who [failed/mourn over life lost/are restless for something more], for they will be [comforted/filled/given the Kingdom of God]. He said,Good! I’m glad you finally quit pretending you have it all together – because I actually do, and I am the One who makes you whole. I redeem your failures. I have made you worthy. I made you, I know you, I love you, and I’ve got you.
It’s that sort of experience – that raw, authentic way of relating to others and to God – that makes you never want to go back to being fine. It’s that same thing that I want for the people of Thailand, the freedom and life of being known and loved anyway. Yeah, you failed. So did I. But that failure to measure up was the train wreck that brought me back to the Prodigal God.
Have you ever experienced real church? How did it change you?
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THE STUFF OF NEWS:
- I will be spending most of July and August in a discipleship/internship at Avant. I'll be volunteering in the Kansas City community, helping out at the Avant office, and building relationships with the people up there.
- The roundtrip road trip through the Midwest was a success!
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