The Search for a Godly Church

I no longer feel welcome at the church I attended pre-Covid.

It's a funny thing, really. I used to be super involved there. I served on the Outreach team and helped facilitate a Pathways Light class (a missions program). I was a leader in the Mothers of Preschoolers (MOPS) group and started a support group for new moms with post-partum anxiety and depression (cause Christians struggle with mental health, too). I led a few Bible studies in the Women's Ministry program. I even spoke at a Women's Event.

It might have been the speaking engagement that did it. The organizer who invited me to speak told me, "I feel like you have such wisdom to share with us." She said I could speak on anything I wanted. I choose to speak on "Welcoming the Stranger". Maybe I'll post my message that evening at some point (I did! Check it out.). I think they were with me when I talked about my days in the Peace Corps. I think they even stayed with me while I encouraged welcoming refugees. Pretty sure I lost them when I started to talk about welcoming the people at the border.

Or perhaps I lost them when I became more outspoken on Facebook about all the reasons why Christians shouldn't hitch their wagons behind Trump. How damaging that was for all of us...

Either way, they stopped inviting me to things. And I don't just mean they stopped inviting me to speak or teach. They stopped inviting me to attend. I no longer received the email newsletter. They unfriended me on Facebook. They looked the other way when they saw me at church.

And then Covid hit.

My husband (the doctor) was quite concerned about our children's health. He didn't want them going anywhere. As Covid progressed, I even agreed with him. I wasn't feeling welcome at church anymore anyway, and then with Covid... we stayed away.

For a long time.

A little over two and a half years, to be exact.

Never in my life had I ever gone so long without attending church.

I spent those two and a half years in reflection. Sometimes, in agony. In doubt. Wondering if I even still believed... or not.

And then something happened.

This is a story for another time, so let's leave it at - I had an encounter with God.

And I knew I needed to get back in church. It was time.

However, I no longer felt welcome at my old church. I tried for a few weeks. There was a new pastor, a lot of things had changed, maybe...? But, no. I didn't feel like I belonged there anymore.

So, I went searching.

What I found was a lot of truly awful churches.

There was the church with the young pastor who stated that the Genesis 2 creation account clearly showed that women were created inferior to men.

There was the church with the pastor who reminisced about "the good ol' days" when we were allowed to beat children.

There was the church with the pastor raving on and on about how the culture is out to get Christians and there will come a day when we will need to "fight back". (I really do NOT want to know what he meant by that, but January 6th might have been a good indication...)

There was the church with the pastor that condemned Christians who went to a therapist or a psychiatrist instead of "turning to the Bible".

There was the church where the children's pastor yelled threats at the kids (apparently along the lines of, "If you don't shut up, I'm going to come over there and make you shut up.").

It was unbelievable.

I didn't expect to find a church that believed 100% the same as I did. After all, I wasn't even 100% sure what I believed. I merely wanted a church that believed in loving others and that taught the Bible. That was it. I wasn't trying to be picky. But I could not believe how much hatred and filth and untruth I was hearing!

It took about four months and at least fifteen different churches before I found the church I am currently attending. It's a good church. Not perfect. But good. Young. So young, I'm one of the oldest people there, and I'm not that old! They preach directly from Scripture. They support a local refugee outreach program. They sing songs in English and in Spanish. They have both men and women pastors. The lead pastor even has tattoos.

It feels like the right place to be at this point. I'm still figuring out what I believe and how much of the creeds and traditions I was raised with are actually Biblical, versus merely cultural. But it's harder to do that on my own, without community, without support. 

Church is familiar. It's comfortable. But it's also encouraging. It encourages me to keep moving forward. Seguir adelante. To not give up. To keep fighting for faith. Religion may be a lost cause (insert eye roll here), but faith... faith is important. We all need something, someone, some ONE, to believe in.

So I press on...