Day 7
So we can’t love in the abstract. And faith and love move in between and through us. It is not just conceptual but concrete.
What does she look like. Church? We all have stories.
I’ve heard stories across the spectrum of all humanity. From the fervent love and acceptance they’ve found to the hurt and hate they’ve experienced.
I might hear about:
The vacation Bible school at the neighborhood church two blocks down, and how you walked with your little brother in tow in the hot Alabama sun and how you learned a wobbly cross stitch on simple white cotton. A cross in pink thread. And how at the end of the day, your seersucker dress stuck to your back as the ceiling fan spun lazy circles swirling hot air down and how the cool of open doors and ice cream sandwiches on the lawn still remind you of that summer. And you learned good things in the innocence of those young days.
You would tell me of the unwavering rigidity with which he ruled. How he stood proud and somber and spoke words laced with malice. How he preached week after week and no one dared question him, and when they did, they were spurned as unbelievers. And the gossip spread hot and wild like fire blazing through the bush and everyone prayed hard for your soul as they gathered over coffee with dripping tongues. And you wonder if they’re right?And you realize you weren’t the first or the last to be hurled down into submission.
And you would tell me of cushions on the floor and bodies piled in on couches and chairs and an acoustic guitar and the sound of everyone’s voices lifted together and how you share a meal and break bread and pass the wine and rejoice. And you would tell me that you are family, community, and that your best friends are there every week. You wouldn’t miss it. This is home.
And you might tell me of a church you go to with a senior pastor and board of elders, a sanctuary, and service. You might tell me of your community group that meets to do life together. And the missions trip your church just organized and the lives that came back fervent and fiery, seen and changed. And you might tell me of the soup kitchen your church started, that serves hot bowls of hope to weary souls. You might tell me of the programs and the youth groups your children love and are a part of and how they have grown up in this community and you love your church family.
And there are so many more stories wound up in this idea of church, so I’d love to hear yours.
I’ve heard some people’s experiences through the comments and emails and I’d love for more of you to share what comes to mind when I say church. From personal experience.
It can be good or bad, neutral or both. Be honest. It doesn’t have to be profound or prolific. Just write what comes to mind.
If you’d like to link up a post, you can. Or you can email me or leave it in the comments.
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I’ll leave the link open all week for those of you who might want to sneak in some writing during the week
What a great idea for a linky! I will add one soon!
Mari
Mari Hernandez-Tuten recently posted..Deliciously Healthy Popcorn Balls
This is beautifully written!!!
So many memories…I’ve been taken to church my whole life; it was a high priority for my parents. We grew up in relatively-strict Baptist churches. Generally the women wore dresses, basically always covering the knee, though this was rarely preached. Music was conservative/ traditional in every church I attended until four years ago.
I am in the buckle of the Bible belt and also attended some larger Baptist and independent churches, but still traditional. I remember lines for coffee, orderly movement through the sanctuary, but lots of friendliness and love. In the church my husband and I began attending (separately, before dating), there is loud, contemporary music. People wear what they want. There is a praise team on stage that often wears T shirts and jeans while lifting or cupping their hands in worship. When I first came here, I had been invited to attend a class on Living the Gospel in Relationships with a friend. I was going through the roughest time of my life and it was very healing.
And now? I don’t know. Some of the memories have grown stale as my friendships evaporated. It’s gone from being a large house of love to one where the crowds simply exhaust me (I am a friendly introvert). I like putting on jeans because somehow I feel thinner–though I’m not!–and I can get away with not having shaved for a day. Sometimes I like the music, but–while I take no “conviction” position on this–I do think that the “cool” music draws people who don’t have any real interest in church. I don’t like being instructed to assume a posture of “surrender” (or any posture) while singing; I think that that needs to come from the heart and I’m usually more comfortable standing still. I’m highly uncomfortable with the “liberty” to drink being exercised so freely by so many twentysomethings.
I don’t know if I could go back for some theological reasons. But part of me misses the smallish Baptist (or Baptist-like) churches…the Bible school, the ice cream, grounds small enough that one person could mow them in an hour…the hymns I know and love. People I see in the same vicinity of the sanctuary every week. A bathroom that isn’t a half-mile walk. I want a place where people own their sin but don’t brag for hours about how “real” they are. The new self righteousness is being self righteous about NOT being self righteous, and I see a lot of that. Or am I judging too?