I got a thin cut on my right hand last week. It’s a minor cut, nothing a little Neosporin can’t handle. But every time I pick up a marker to write on the dry-erase board, I feel it. Every time I try to peck out a few words on the computer, I feel it.
When one part of the body is hurting, it doesn’t matter how healthy the rest of the body is. Our focus remains on the part that’s in pain.
I’ve endured another injury too — a much deeper cut, one to the heart, and it’s taking longer to heal. And like the cut on my hand, it has absorbed my focus. Too much so.
It’s one thing to be injured by an unbeliever.
It’s another thing to be injured by a believer, especially a leader or pastor.
We live in a fallen world. So it’s inevitable that members of the Body of Christ — even pastors — will disappoint us, betray us, and leave us wondering if continuing with the whole church thing is worth the trouble.
These heart-injuries have a way of festering, though, which can lead to an infection that can spread to the soul. My own heart-affliction is due, in part, to the compounding factor that this particular injury is on top of an earlier one — when my father, who was a pastor, left the church and left our family.
Dad left. And I haven’t seen much of him since I was 14.
When your dad leaves, and your pastor leaves, it leaves you wondering. And it’s tempting to leave church too.
One of my favorite writers has started a book club over at her blog. The book? Leaving Church by Barbara Brown Taylor.
Obviously, the title captured my attention. Because it’s where I’m at. In some ways, it’s where I’ve been at since I was 14. Dad left the church. Left town. Left us.
The church dissolved.
So we left too. Me and my mom.
Then both of my parents remarried, and my step-dad took a new job in the city. So then we left town too.
There was a large church within walking distance of our new home. So I visited. By myself. And God met me there. So I returned. Every week. To the big church around the corner. By myself. In an unfamiliar city.
There was something there, during worship, that I didn’t have words for.
It was His Presence.
I’ve known this Presence for as long as I can remember. Back when I sat on the front pew. When my mom led the singing. And my dad did the preaching.
I’ve always sensed His Presence during worship.
In her book, Leaving Church, Barbara Brown Taylor talks about the first time she sensed His Presence too. For her, it was outdoors, in the lush surroundings of God’s creation. She says:
“The Divine Presence was strongest outdoors, and most palpable when I was alone. When I think of my first cathedral, I am back in a field behind my parents’ house in Kansas, with every stalk of prairie grass lit up from within.”
God reveals Himself to each of us in His own unique way. For me, it was His Presence during worship that drew me. Week after week.
If I had just one word to describe what I experienced, it would be wholeness. With God, I sensed wholeness. And I promised God I would never leave.
Now, more than twenty years later, I’m still here. Still pursuing God. Still reading His Word.
But church? That is something else. And it’s something I’ve been tempted to leave, altogether, on more than one occasion.
As believers, we are members of the Body of Christ, and if one part suffers, every part suffers with it (I Corinthians 12:26). Like the cut on my hand, one hurting member affects the rest of the body.
So right now, the truth is, I need healing. I need healing from the wounds inflicted by a church we’ve left.
We attend a church in our neighborhood now. And I’m deeply grateful for the pastor, who preaches the Word, week after week, completely dedicated to the Truth. But the past few years have made me cautious. I sit near the back, hesitant to get involved.
Church, in general, doesn’t feel safe anymore. It hasn’t for some time. So I’ve had a hard time connecting with God and sensing His Presence during worship services. My “Thin Place” has changed. I now experience His Presence — that “Thin Place” where God draws near — when I’m alone with His Word.
God is made most alive in me when I am in His Word.
And deep down, I think that’s been part of His plan all along. God has allowed some painful church experiences to happen in my life because He knows how easy it is for me to lean on the church more than I lean on Him.
So I’m leaning. A lot. On Him. And His Word. And I’m comforted by His Truth, especially this truth that still echoes from worship hymns of long ago:
On Christ the solid rock I stand
All other ground is sinking stand
Christ alone is the Chief Cornerstone. And His Body — the Church — is broken, yes, but also redeemed. Just like you. And just like me. And that is Christ-filled beauty.
Click here to join the book club.
PHOTO CREDIT: By Steven Snodgrass (Creative Commons)
I too like to reflect on those moments where the spiritual and physical are nearest together. I do remember a few. For me, those are easier to recall in times of sadness or rest versus times of joy and activity. Maybe there is a requisite quietness – I don’t know. But, I sure like what I see in you and where God has granted you eyes to see. You are loved.
You are the visible, tangible grace He has blessed me with.
I often sense God’s presence in places other than church. And I feel you pain; may dad was a pastor too and my family was hurt more than once. Although my dad didn’t leave our family, we left several churches. God used those experiences to teach me things…and continues to use the dark, ugly, painful experiences to teach me lessons I need to learn.
But I know HE is faithful…always, never leaving…I can always find him, I just have to open my eyes and my heart.
Hugs to you, my friend.
Mary
Mary, I didn’t know you were a PK too! I can’t wait to have another “late night chat” with you and the girls!
Just posted this on our book club page and on my personal and writer pages. You silly goose, you should’ve told me you wrote this. Luckily I get your posts in my inbox.
This is beautiful Denise. It’s where I am too. So much of what you write reminds me of myself and my own faith journey. I’m actually writing a post about how we are church homeless for Christmas this year, a first in 22 years of marriage. Our church just split and we had to leave. It’s so disappointing on so many levels. Praying we find a new place of belonging, where God’s presence is stronger than our fears of being hurt again. Much love to you.
Shelly, thank you for your kind words of confidence. I’m enjoying the book and the community you’ve gathered. And I’m praying this Christmas will be more special than any other. May His grace envelope you this season.
What a lovely thoughtful post. I think it is impossible to not be in church for years and not have deep wounding. Perhaps that is just the nature of us as flawed people. May you continue to find healing.
Thank you, Gayle. You are definitely right about that. It’s impossible to spend much time in “church life” and not experience deep wounding. It is just the nature of the sin in all of us. I appreciate your words.
Denise, I am so glad Shelly shared this. I have needed to make my way back to you. I appreciated our conversation at Allume and have wished we could converse more. You come to mind often and I pray for you in this regard, as well as for other subjects we briefly touched.
In case you haven’t heard, we are returning to church. In fact, we are returning to ministry. God is faithful and healing continues. Although, the end does not always look the same.
God bless you!
Tereasa, I’ve been thinking of you often too. I keep thinking of all the things I’d like to do differently at a conference with just the few short days together. I definitely need to be more intentional about getting together and sharing those heart-felt conversations.
I am so thankful you’re returning to church and to ministry. May His peace continue to strengthen you and guide you. Just from the interaction we’ve shared in person, I can sense a genuine warmth in you. I know you’ll be a blessing to any congregation you join.
{HUGS}
I am here from a comment your sweet mom made on my post today. I am so moved by what you have shared here. Simply beautiful~
Thank you, Shelly. Your words mean so much.
I am sorry for the hurt you have experienced. I am praying for you, asking God to bring healing as only He can. He will continue to guide you and direct you concern church. I hope you can land in one again that you feel safe in. There is truly something beautiful about the corporate expression of worship among believers, but I also believe too that sometimes God meets me the deepest when I am alone with Him.
Oh, Barbie, you are so so sweet. Thank you. And I agree … there is something about corporate worship. I’m so thankful He meets us wherever we are. He is so good.
“Church, in general, doesn’t feel safe anymore.” I’ve been wrestling with why it’s been so hard to go to church the last decade. Almost a year ago, I started attending a new church and there’s been such healing there but I’m still hesitant. There are as many weeks where I stay home as there are weeks I attend. I’ve been wondering why I can’t just embrace this new church, why the old baggage is still there, and I think it comes down to the words you’ve written: church doesn’t feel safe to me. It takes time to earn my trust and while I know I need to do the work of showing up so healing can continue, at least I’ve pinpointed that catch in my spirit week after week. Thank you for your honesty.
Leigh, I’m so sorry you’ve experienced something similar. I pray His peace will hold you as you continue learning to trust again. It’s such a hard road to walk. Please write again and let me know how the journey is going. I’m praying for you.