On Monday, I shared about why I have so much hope for the church in the time of COVID. Today, I want to share a little bit about our journey with church, to hopefully cast a little light on where that hope comes from.

It’s weird to say I went from working in full time ministry for almost a decade, to not attending church at all. It’s not how I planned things to go. But that is what happened. 

Eight years ago, when I left ministry, Tony and I stopped attending church. At first, we both needed some time to heal and rest. But then we realized, we couldn’t go back to a church where women were not treated equally with men, nor could we go to a church where denomination was the focus.

We’ve been in spiritual community limbo ever since. 

But all of this time has given us a chance to talk a lot about what being the Church* really means. To hold the definitions of church that we’ve been given, up to the light. To unpack the messages we were told that are more about power and control, and the ones that are truly from God. Most importantly, we’ve been able to experience the Church in so many ways—outside of the building.

One of the hardest things about leaving our church, was realizing how quickly our church family seemed to forget about us. Every time we’d see them around town, they’d ask where we were going to church, instead of how we were doing. Unintentionally sending the message that Sunday morning attendance was the dues we had to pay to be a part of the body of Christ. 

But there were also friends who didn’t leave us. 

The ones who kept meeting me for coffee, having us over for dinner, and praying with and for us in hard times. Instead of turning us away, they drew us into their family even deeper. They continued to study the Bible with us. And we still wrestle together on how best to show Christ’s love in our world. 

We prayed for each other on our front steps, and on our adjoining back porches. We were the Church for each other.

Then in our old apartment complex, a few years ago, a woman and her son moved in next door to us. One night, when we were still getting to know each other, she needed me to drive her to the pharmacy. She had a terrible migraine, and couldn’t see straight. I asked if it was ok if I prayed for her. She said yes, and soon she was praying in the front seat of my car with me. 

What followed was years of sharing meals, vegetables from our gardens, and life struggles. We prayed for each other on our front steps, and on our adjoining back porches. We were the Church for each other.

We don’t stop being the church, when we’re not attending services.

On Monday, I shared that I have so much hope for the church during this time of pandemic restrictions. That if we can (temporarily), let go of the way we’ve been doing church, we may learn all the many ways we can be the Church right from our homes, in our own neighborhoods. To which, someone replied by thanking me for being able to see beyond the four walls of church. 

I see beyond the four walls of church, because that is where we’ve been living.

Now that Tony and I have moved to a new city, we do hope to find a community of believers we can grow and serve with. But these past eight years has taught us over and over, that we don’t stop being the church, when we’re not attending services. At times, it has been lonelier without a larger community. We too have missed the feeling you get when you enter the doors of a church and see the smiling faces of people you know. We’ve missed corporate worship. But at the same time, we’ve never not experienced God’s faithfulness in the midst of both good and hard times. And perhaps, not being a part of a congregation, has made us more aware of His presence everywhere we go.

What has been your church story?

Have you too, been away from church, and find it a struggle to return?

*As with Monday’s Post, for the sake of this post, “church” will refer to the building or organization. While, “Church,” capital “C,” will refer to God’s people.

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Photo by taylor hernandez on Unsplash