I thought about going to church this morning. I have not gone in over a year. I am very conflicted. I still consider myself a Christian, though many Christians would say that I am not anymore. I guess you could call it a crisis of faith, or backsliding. There are many names for it, some are nicer sounding than others. I still believe in God, and in Jesus. I guess you could say that life got away from me.
I used to volunteer at my church. I was in the band, helped the tech team, and I was a leader in the young adult ministry. I did missions trips, and I even did a one year internship and attended theological college classes. I used to want to be a youth pastor. I have lived the life. I have sacrificed relationships, money, and time to live the life. Sometimes the life was good, other times, it was difficult.
When I was younger, there was a time in my life that I thought about killing myself. I have held the razer to my arm, and pressed it down to see the lines it would make. I can't tell you what spared me. I didn't believe in anything aside from what I could see. I didn't have anything bigger than myself to live for. I was raised quasi-religiously, only really taken to church occasionally, or on special days. My memories were more of games played in Sunday school, less of the stories told from the Book. Maybe it was providence that held me back, maybe it was cowardice. Perhaps it was nearly forgotten stories of Hell that frightened me into living. Whatever the reason, I lived.
During this time, in high school, I was visited by a local youth pastor. He invited me to come out to a church on a weekday night and hang out. I wasn't interested at all. He came back every single week. He didn't bring up the Bible or God or Jesus. He talked to me about whatever I wanted to talk about. I finally agreed to come his church. Eventually, it was there I found something to live for. I felt like someone besides my family cared that I was alive. I regularly attended, and then started volunteering. I wanted other people to feel like someone cared too. I had, at least in a small way, something I could give someone else. That church became my second home. I joined the band soon after. I had found someplace I could express myself. Eventually I became a band leader and lead singer as well. I preached, led worship, and helped convert those that heard the message and believed.
I type all of this so that you understand how I feel about not being part of that life anymore. I never stopped believing, I sort of drifted away. There wasn't one single moment, or one person that pushed me from the dock, it had been happening a long time. For years I felt like the only thing keeping me at church was the fact I was volunteering every week. The part that hurts the most is that nobody seemed to notice my drifting away, or at least nobody probed deeper. But in any case, I didn't act out, so I didn't stand out.
Maybe it is part of the way I was raised, but I feel an immense guilt about not attending church every week. My childhood fear can be summed up in the famous sermon by Jonathan Edwards, "Sinners in the hands of an angry God" This is an excerpt:
"So that thus it is, that natural men are held in the hand of God over the pit of hell; they have deserved the fiery pit, and are already sentenced to it; and God is dreadfully provoked, his anger is as great towards them as to those that are actually suffering the executions of the fierceness of his wrath in hell, and they have done nothing in the least to appease or abate that anger, neither is God in the least bound by any promise to hold 'em up one moment; the devil is waiting for them, hell is gaping for them, the flames gather and flash about them, and would fain lay hold on them, and swallow them up; the fire pent up in their own hearts is struggling to break out; and they have no interest in any mediator, there are no means within reach that can be any security to them. In short, they have no refuge, nothing to take hold of, all that preserves them every moment is the mere arbitrary will, and uncovenanted unobliged forbearance of an incensed God."
My past picture of a vengeful God often collides with my more recent and more easily forgotten understanding of a merciful and understanding God. I want to return to that life, and I am hesitant to do so. But now I have been gone from church so long, to return would be like starting over. There is an allure in that. It could be nice to begin again, just attend church and not feel like I'm at work. It could be nice to not have the stress of the band, running the sound board, or volunteering in any way. I just don't know if it can be at this same wonderful place.
So, I am at an impasse. Perhaps I feel like I left the church without declaring that I was leaving, and maybe I feel guilty about that. Either way there is a certain amount of conflict within when I consider visiting next Sunday. I hear great things are happening there, but I am not sure I can face returning.
No comments:
Post a Comment