First he poked me and then he leaned over and is very, very quite hushed whisper of a voice said, "I think she might be crazy." Before I could even whisper back because frankly I was speechless and (I know all of my friends find that hard to believe), he says, "I know, 'Bless her heart and Pray for her.' " At that moment I could not think of anything better to say except whisper, "If I tell you to dive under the pew...DIVE!" I am have been a nurse 25 years, half my life. This little experience has reminded me that really people shock the heck out me on a daily basis. This was one of those people and one of those days.
Looking for a church home I have discovered is a lot like finding the perfect guy after divorce or anytime for that matter. One probably needs therapy to survive both and you are going to have to go on a lot of bad dates. I have found great shoes help in both cases. And always, always have an exit strategy in both situations, you just never know. And stay prayed up. Stay prayed up.
So, back to the story. We had been dating this church for about 3 weeks and I just can't come up with a better verb. It was on the third date we met her. First there were a couple of small red flags that this probably was not a match made in heaven but she definitely sealed the deal. The little tiny red flag that bothered my recovering fundamentalist brain was drinking Starbucks during the worship service in the sanctuary. Just a bit. But I was willing to that go. OK and the whole coming and going and coming and going during worship service to get more coffee and bagels really played with my lapsed Methodist heart but I really was trying not to judge. (It was only a 90 min. service - surely one can go without caffeine for that long).
OK back to her. She very nicely raised her hand in the middle of the service (and my Wesley scholar friend knows that played with head!). It was not in the order of service and it was not open prayer request time. We had already prayed the Lord's prayer which was nicely projected behind the altar. It was right before the sermon. She asked if she could come forward and share a testimony. Well, of course the pastor said yes. I guessing about five minutes into it, he had wished he had said um, "maybe at the next fellowship meal." I am real sure about 10 minutes into the testimony he was either praying or trying to think of a graceful way to make her sit down or he was utterly speechless like me. I am guessing since she finished her testimony (and I use that term VERY LOOSELY), he was speechless.
So, she had a really great jacket on and looked very professional. And I have enough Baptist in my blood to know what a testimony is. She reads this very distressing passage from Psalms about God smiting the enemy and going down to Sheol and all that. I thought,well THIS IS DIFFERENT. My experience had taught me that testimony were about God doing good things and deliverance and praising God. Clearly, I had been mistaken. She begins by saying that God called her to this church to work and serve and she really did not want to come at all. In fact she said she had been at this church for 15 years and had hated every minute of it. She said she felt everyone judged her, that no one included her, that they were staring at her during praise and worship and thinking horrible things about her. Did I mention she was on staff? Yep. She was. She said every morning she came to work at the church she told God how much she hated it. She said she couldn't understand why others were so happy there and enjoyed the fellowship and were growing. She said she couldn't even understand what about the church attracted others and how anybody grew there. She said she begged God to tell her to leave. She said God kept telling her to stay.
OK, I have to pause here and say my psych rotation in nursing school taught me one thing and one thing only, besides we are all a little crazy. And it is this. You really only need to fear the crazy people who SAY GOD IS TELLING THEM TO DO SOMETHING. If they think they are talking to aliens, dead people, trees or whatever they are not going to become violent. BUT, religious fanatics that is a whole different ball game.
It was at this point I began to see if it was at all possible she had a gun under that very nice jacket or perhaps a bomb hidden in that very pretty Bible. Frankly, if I were the pastor I would have probably tackled her. This tirade went on for about 15 minutes. She finished it by saying she was fighting with God and she was going to win. She also said she still hated it and had been suicidal over the whole ordeal but she wasn't moving. She warned everyone to beware of fighting with God.
So, you are probably wondering at what point did we run out the back door. Well, we stayed for the sermon. I mean what else could top that? And besides I really thought we were going to like hold hands and pray over her or something or perhaps they cast demons out at this church. And I really wanted to see that. She was sitting in the front of the sanctuary so I could keep my eye on her for any sudden movements. I really can not recall what the sermon topic was, just that it wasn't from the lectionary. As if that should have surprised my high Protestant worship style. I really can't recall what the pastor said after she sat down. I did consider briefly telling her after the service that mental health professionals could help and I would be happy to assist her in finding help particularly with the whole suicidal ideation thing. But I decided to run with my family in tow, out the back door. We didn't even look over our shoulders in case the pillar of salt warning was in effect.
We get in the car. My husband can be the master of understatement and he rarely comments on anything spiritual. So I fell over laughing when he said, "Well God might not be telling her to leave but I know He is telling us never to come back." My son said, "Does she really believe she is going to win a fight with God? Really?!?"
So where is the moment of grace in all of this. Well it was thus far the worst of our church dates. We still are searching for a church home. And no, I did not make this up. It really happened.
I have learned a lot about Mother Church on our sojourn. There are no wounds like church wounds and nothing cuts any deeper. And you are not meant to live the spiritual life alone. The spiritual life is meant to be lived in community. Mother Church is a place of refuge, healing and peace BUT sadly many church goers would rather defend the building, defend the programs, defend ink on a page, defend themselves than consider perhaps another way.
And God and His Church really don't need a defense attorney.
It is the people who are on the outside in the homeless shelters, in the prisons, trying to recover from addiction, suffering from loss, or just lost in the parking lot who desperately need to see Jesus. They are more in need of the Church's protection and love than those on the inside. The Church was not created to exist for Herself. The Church was never meant to be a place of harm, a place of wounding and it was never meant to be so hard to get into. But it is made up of humans and humans can at times be a discouraging lot to work with. BUT I also know The Church was God's plan to reach a hurting world. There is not a plan B. WE ARE THE PLAN. All of us, even the crazy, even the wounded, even the scarred, even the young, even the old, even the mixed up, even the "heretics", even the eccentrics, even the traditionalists, even the post moderns are the ones who can change the world.
And I suppose that is why I journey, still search, still hope, still try and still believe that Mother Church is worth the risk. Will I find my way back home someday? I really don't know. Life from the edges of the Church is lonely, but a lot of good stuff happens out here in the wilderness. A lot of good stuff. Prayers for all my friends who struggle with Church. Prayers for all my friends who haven't found a Church yet. Prayers for all my friends who labor in and outside the Church.
Still hoping and believing in the Church and knowing God wins in the end,
Kathleen
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