On God, Church and My Rambling Faith Journey

Church is one of those words that most people have a pretty strong emotional reaction to. Whether positive or negative, most people have been exposed to it at some point in their life, whether that was by actually attending one or having interactions with others who attend. We’ve all sort of formed our ideas.

My experience with church is no different, although my reaction to the word has been widely varied depending on the particular time in my life.

I grew up going to a fairly strict Baptist church. The male congregants wore suits (or at the very least button-up shirts) and women wore dresses. Cussing and drinking were highly frowned upon and listening exclusively to Christian music was highly encouraged. Everything about my church experience during childhood was rife with legalism and overall it was just a place where a bunch of people hung out together to follow  rules for the sake of following rules. Church was just something you did, no questions asked. It was routine. It was rote memorization of scriptures. It looked good on the outside, but there was no life beneath the surface. I always dreaded going. Church meant lifeless rule following.

Then during high school we started going to a different church and I became a “church girl”. No, seriously. I actually took a Buzzfeed quiz one time about what my high school stereotype was and got “church girl”. The church we switched to definitely wasn’t perfect and people still got hung up on outward things that didn’t really matter, but overall I enjoyed the community. I sang in the choir and the church praise band. I went to youth group and Bible studies. I led Bible studies. I invited my friends to church. I legit had a shirt that said “I love Jesus” on it (I seriously wish I could find the photo of me at church camp wearing said shirt). I was that girl. Despite my intensity and sometimes misguided notions about what Christianity meant, I mostly just wanted to love Jesus and other people and my heart was in the right place. Church meant wonderful community.

 

 

{rad temporary tattoo via She Reads Truth}

Then came college and all the notions of what college is supposed to look like. This didn’t pair particularly well with my Baptist upbringing, so I tested some boundaries. I never strayed too far, but most of my college experience was filled with questioning my faith and simply not really caring a whole lot about it. It seemed like most people I was friends with didn’t really care about it, so why should I? I was too busy asserting my newfound freedom to bother with church and God much anyway. I was too busy doing and saying sometimes ridiculous things in the name of being a grownup. Church meant something I didn’t feel much need for.

Then, toward the end of college I moved into a Christian sorority. I know that sounds totally awful, and I really imagined that it would be, but it wasn’t. It actually turned out to be one of my most formative experiences of faith I’ve had in my life. At the time I wasn’t a fan of girl friendships. I had been burned way too many times by other girls, so I mostly stuck to hanging around with boys and my boyfriend (Craig). You might wonder why I would ever choose to live in a house with 50 other girls by choice then and the answer is: I didn’t really have much choice. I was transferring to a new school during my senior year of college and my choices for a living situation were: A) Live in the dorms…AS A SENIOR – ummm…no. Just no. B) Find a random roommate to share an apartment with from Craigslist since I couldn’t afford one on my own, which after my last random/terribly unhygenic roommate, I wasn’t willing to chance, C) Live with a bunch of Christian girls. I knew exactly zero people, so I figured living in the house would be my best option, but I wasn’t exactly stoked about it. While I was living in this house I really learned about the beautiful and binding love of Jesus. I learned that Jesus doesn’t care what you wear to church or if you cuss sometimes or whether or not you believe in speaking in tongues. I learned about his character and the way he loves people. Living in a house with 50 girls, many of whom I wouldn’t have chosen to be friends with on my own, showed me that Jesus looks like a great many things. It wasn’t about going to church…I realized that church was everywhere…it was in having community with others. Church meant loving Jesus and loving people.

After graduation, getting married and having a couple of kids, church fell down lower on the priority list. I had learned during college and the subsequent years that church didn’t mean going to a building on Sundays. I learned that I could have a relationship with Jesus without attending church, so why not sleep in on Sundays? So we didn’t go. For a long time. We went sporadically (like a few times a year) for a couple of years, but over time I missed it. I didn’t miss the getting up early and the awkward “get to know the person next to you in the next three minutes!” greeting time, but I did miss the community. I missed the intentionality of church. I missed the encouragement that came from listening to a sermon and feeling inspired to leave and do better…be better.

I love this quote from Alice Walker’s book The Color Purple…

“…have you ever found God in church? I never did. I just found a bunch of folks hoping for him to show. Any God I ever felt in church I brought in with me. And I think all the other folks did too. They come to church to share God, not find God.”

I think this pretty much sums up how I feel about church now. Without the people, church is just a building. I’m realizing that church will never be perfect and the people therein will sometimes disappoint me, because they aren’t perfect either, but it’s worth being a part of…for me anyway. Church means putting down roots, sharing God together and being reminded to love others, because sometimes I get busy and forget.

My faith journey isn’t an earth-shatteringly unique one, but it is mine and I am thankful for the paths I’ve gone down to get me here. A little meandering for a Tuesday morning.

Love,

Lauren