Yesterday I spent a great deal of time thinking about church.
Being the daughter of a pastor, I was raised in church. I spent most of the first half of my life in church.
Sunday mornings. Sunday nights. Wednesday nights. There were Tuesday morning womens bible studies, Friday night prayer meetings. Saturday afternoon baptisms.
Then there were the "conventions" held every summer in which we'd spend EVERY DAY for an ENTIRE WEEK going to THREE SERVICES a day.
It was all church, all the time.
Church here, church there, church everywhere.
Church, church, church.
It should come as no surprise that I met my husband at church.
He was dating a very short woman with a hairy mole on her back at the time he started attending our church and I was only 14 years old, he was 20.
And? He was a D-O-R-K. (Unlike me and my covered head, guitar strumming HOTNESS.)
Me and my best friend would get great joy out of making fun of him. "Did you see Diane's boyfriend? Oh my God, he's a dork. He talks like a valley dude and HE LOOKS LIKE A RAT. HA!HA!HA!"
Before you start judging me for making fun of my future husband in that way, let me remind you that I was ONLY 14 YEARS OLD.
God, this will be the longest post ever if I tell the entire story of how we fell in love, so I'll make it give you the Short Version and save the Long Version for another day.
Here it goes...
"His girlfriend at the time started talking to another "brother in the Lord" and fell in love with him, dumped Tony, thinking he'd be all devasted and beg her to come back, but he was all "See ya, have a nice life" and then she tried to add salt to his wounds by asking him to sing WITH ME in her wedding and so, we did and um, well, he didn't seem so dorky to me after a while (I had grown up, I was now seventeen, he? Was 23. I know, pervert) and I started to get butterflies in my stomach everytime he'd come over to practice the songs because he'd give me these sweet little looks like "I think you're kind of pretty and I may want to have sex with you someday" and then, he started SPOILING ME WITH GIFTS and telling me how pretty I was and um, I started looking back at him like "hey, I'm a virgin, we should totally do it sometime, but not until we're MARRIED, of course, you know, because daddy's a pastor and well you know. I won't say if we actually waited until we said I do (ha!ha!) but, we did get married 10 months after our engagement and I have been getting my Enchilada Stuffed err'since."
But, seriously, this was supposed to be about church.
We spent the first few years of our marriage involved in church, because, well, that was the only life I had ever known, and I had dedicated my life to God and wanted to remain faithful to Him.
And also? Because my dad made SURE we went. Like (THIS IS A TRUE STORY, PEOPLE.) the first Sunday after we were married, there was a knock on our apartment door at 6 in the morning. I looked through the peephole to see MY FATHER STANDING THERE WITH A BOX OF DONUTS. "I just thought I'd bring you donuts and say goodmorning". Which. HA! HA! Not really, more like "I just used these donuts as an excuse to make sure you are awake and GETTING READY FOR CHURCH, YOUNG LADY!"
But, a few years ago, I began to get bitter toward the people who go to Church. (Not the Christians, but the "Christians".)
They were gossips and liars and backstabbers and they did it all with a smile on their face because they were "children of God."
We stopped going to church all together. I had tremendous guilt at first. And Dad made sure to keep the guilt coming with Monday morning phone calls of "Why weren't you in church? You need to be in church. Don't turn your back on God."
We tried a few new churches, but never felt "at home." So, once again, we quit going.
It's been over 4 years since we've attended church. I never imagined that I'd be one of "Those People." You know, the people who only go to church on Easter and Christmas. The people who DO NOTHING ON SUNDAY. As my children get older, feelings of guilt are creeping in. I think it's important that they have the "moral foundation" that I had growing up and I like to think I can give them that without taking them to church every Sunday. But what if I'm wrong?
Why am I SO resistant to go back? Why is it so hard for me to get my ass up on Sunday and say "Family? We are going to church!"? Am I letting what other people did to me YEARS ago keep me away from God? What am I afraid of?
I don't know. I really don't know.
I don't believe that a person has to belong to "a church" in order to have a relationship with God, but wouldn't it be better for my kids if they were involved in a church?
I just don't know. What I do know is that I have to do some soul searching to make peace with this issue. I have ENOUGH areas of shame in my life, I don't need another thing to feel guilty about.
(P.S. I totally plan on writing "Our Love Story: How we met and fell in love at a little Church called The Rock." now that I brought it up. I bet you can't WAIT.)
(P.S.S PSSSSSSST...)







I totally understand your dilemma... I haven't gone to church regularly in years, yet I want my kids (when we have them) to belong to one. I don't know why, because I totally feel like you don't have to belong to a particular church to be alright with the world. Maybe it's a leftover-guilt thing.
And? I for one can't wait for the whole Love Story. And, of course, the soundtrack to go with it.