The church can be a hard place to walk into under any circumstance.
It’s vulnerable, we feel judged, and there is something about coming face to face with Jesus that undoes people.
But walking into church takes on a whole new meaning after you divorce a pastor.
It doesn’t mean I haven’t attended for the last few years, I simply went to a different place to worship. That is, until recently, when my best friend begged me to join her Bible Study at my old church. She and her husband were leading a group this fall and she invited my boyfriend and me to join them.
My first thought was “hell no.” I’m not walking in there. I didn’t want to deal with the pain or the memories I’ve been working so hard to process through and let go. Even though the relationship I’m in now had nothing to do with my old life, assumptions and gossip have a life of their own.
But my friend and her husband are nothing if not persistent. I spent some time chewing on it and decided that at this point in my life, does it matter? What’s important here? And I was convicted to be brave. Even though I’ve done this particular study nine times, usually as the group leader, I knew my boyfriend would love it and I deeply missed community from church post-Covid.
So we showed up. The first night I got many strange looks, some big hugs, and some eyes averted. I was terrified and fragile; the shaking in my boots kind of nervous. It certainly didn’t feel like a safe place when you are on trial for a crime that from your perspective is self-defense.
One person told me that I was welcome despite my sin. Ouch! Doesn’t that go for all of us? And since when is blanket judgment without understanding both sides of the story not a sin too?
My group, in all honesty, has been lovely. They are the most beautiful people and I’m so glad we’ve experienced life with them. I’ve prayed and served side by side with them. I’ve shared my heart and heard their stories. We’ve encouraged, mourned with, and edified one other. And this is why I came, even though it was intimidating. When we drop the pious act, the Christian community is one of the most accepting and loving places you can find. My spirit craves this.
But showing up on a Sunday was a different kind of scary than a mid-week study. Some people only knew I left my husband. And in the church, women are crucified when they leave. It doesn’t seem to matter what the reason is and that blows my mind.
I walked in last Sunday with my boyfriend and his daughter. My own little girl was at her dad’s that weekend. We sat down and then it started. A woman three rows up, who use to be a friend, started in on the nasty looks. Not once has she ever asked me what happened. One side of the story is never a clear picture of reality. And what happens at home is not always the image people portray-especially in ministry.
When we got in the car I asked my boyfriend’s daughter what she thought of this church versus the one we usually attend. She mentioned the woman throwing her nasty looks and how off putting it was.
That made me sad. I love this place. I helped start this church. My kids and I sacrificed so much on this journey and when I look around and see all the people praising God I am overwhelmed with emotion. Yes, there is both ugliness and beauty in people but when the ugly comes out straight from the get-go, you never get to the good part.
Someday we are all going to stand before God. I will stand in judgment for my sin and so will you. But the stone-throwing when someone is simply trying to spend time with the Lord grieves me. And it should grieve you too. The church needs to be the one place in the world you can come just as you are.
broken. wounded. a sinner. a saint…and everything in between.
None of us are perfect. Not even close. So why do we judge when we see only a slice of a story?
I love the church and I believe it’s the hope of the world. But it’s certainly more a hospital of broken people than a sanctuary for the holy.
So please, do me a favor, the next time you are in church and you see someone who is new, or back from a prodigal journey, or smelly or dirty or whatever…
Just smile at them.
I know Jesus will be running towards them with open arms and preparing a feast. So let’s try not to be the party pooper.
-Sam
