I spent some time hanging out with a good friend this evening.
When she and I say we're going to "hang out for a while.." we actually mean six hours of analyzing the way the world works around us and what it means. Sue me.
She was a mentor of mine for many years in my church, and someone with a real heart for others. The subject inevitably came around to her current church family and easily transitioned into the subject of bringing Haddie to church so that she could develop stable friendships. I want her to have Christ-like people in her life. I want her to know what it means to give unconditional love because she received it.
I haven't attended church in a while because Andy and I aren't married. We live together and have zero problems with our lifestyle. Unfortunately, many in the church do. Some will say, "Oh they won't treat you any differently..." but there's always that look when you say you've been praying, like, "Yeaaah.. praying... with what? Your tarot cards?"
I cannot judge those who choose alternative lifestyles and it's difficult for me to spend large amounts of time with those who do. The more questions I develop, the more I realize that if Jesus were here, he'd love them so much that he'd take their hand no matter how "dirty."
Gay. Straight. Wiccan. Atheist. American. Muslim.
Christ would look them in the eye with sincerity and treat each person with the utmost respect because they are made of skin and bones. They have souls. They breathe air. We are humanity and we are each a quilt of what others have sewn into us.
When I talk about church I feel like Veruka Salt.
I list qualities I want. I want I want I want. I feel so selfish.
Some of my education has done this to me. Some personal experiences.
Tonight as I was looking online for churches in the Triad, my heart sank.
Cliche's, "Christianese", Imperfect people putting on a mask of perfection.
I told some of the Christians in my "inner circles" about my traumatic experience and their reactions were:
"Well that's why I don't drink.."
"I told you living like that was a mistake....I mean I'm sorry it happened but.. I mean you've gotta know.. you were kinda asking for it..."
"Have you prayed about it?"
"So are you going to keep it?"
"God has a plan..."
"You asked for that to happen to you. You shouldn't have made those decisions."
"You should go to Bible study."
Sometimes I think Christians need a real world study.
When every ounce of hope is ripped from your fingers, and you're in so much pain you can barely breathe to walk to your car to get away... Bible study?
Bible study didn't get you home that night.
The scene replays over and over in your mind as you tell your friends and family. Each time, it's like your nerves become alive and you can feel it all happening again.
God planned... that?
You feel like running into the bathroom and locking the door.
At least they can't hurt me. No one can hurt me if I don't exist anymore.
I can't be a screw up anymore if... I would just... take.. those.. pills.
Yeah. I needed a bible study. Actually, I needed a hug, a professional therapist, and stable, unconditional love.
To be fair, not all hope has been lost.
One person from my family came up and hugged me tight. So. Tight.
She cried and hugged me for so long in front of the entire family, like she was trying to absorb some of my pain. No apologies. Just love.
That's a Christian.
One sat across the table from me and listened as I spoke. One of the least overtly emotional people I know, tears were glistening down her cheeks. No words of wisdom. No cliches or cheerful quips to send me on my way. We just sat there a while and I knew my heart was safe being opened to her. I was feeling safe for the first time in a while.
One special person in particular woke me up every time I had a nightmare and held me as I cried. He turned on the light, took my face in his hands, and brought me back to reality. Booze, Tattoos and Cursing like a sailor, that man is one of the most Christ-like people I know. He has to be. He forgives me over, and over, and over... and loves me like he did the day we met in the concourse at Norfolk International Airport. A quiet smile. A kiss and a hand to hold.
I could attend a church today, not because of all of the out-spoken, self-proclaimed christians but because of the Christ-like individuals I have encountered these last few months. Most of whom, don't go to church. Atheists, Buddhists, Gays... humans who have chosen to be better versions of humanity have given me hope that, somewhere out there, there is a group of Christ-followers who would welcome my family with open arms.
This post was not intended to bash or insult those who call themselves followers of Christ. It was merely meant to explain why some of the most broken individuals choose to avoid church. For fear someone may break what's left. I'm a terrible Christian but I am sharing my story because in every church I have attended, they wanted to know how they could show others what it was like to have a family.
Be a family. Love unconditionally.
Be. Like. Christ.
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