I grew up in the church. Like REALLY in the church. My parents were key leadership, more often than not serving on staff or in "important" volunteer positions. All the days of my childhood, I felt known, loved, important, and cherished in, and by, my church.
After Chad and I married, we joined that same church and began serving just as my parents had. Though there were times I felt unqualified for the role God was calling me to, I always felt loved, supported, respected, and known by my church family. It was not perfect, but it was my safe place - a place I loved.
And then a few years ago, I felt God calling me away from that safe place. I questioned and fought that call. For a long time. You see, I loved my church family. I also loved the safety and security of my little church.
But the Lord made it very clear that He was calling us away.
That was a very hard season.
God had made it clear that we were to go - but not clear where we should go. And because we had wrestled with His will for so long, we left with a limp. We were tired, wounded, disillusioned, disappointed, and burned-out.
And as weary, wounded soldiers, that were perhaps suffering from some spiritual PTSD, we began searching for the place God was calling us to. As a family, we took turns choosing a church to visit. We would go for a few weeks or even a few months, trying to discern if THAT place was THE place God wanted us to stay. After about a year, at the very church I least wanted Him to send us to, we felt called to stay.
So we stayed.
Though we loved Jesus and were totally committed to Him, we were also quite spiritually messy. We had NO interest in meeting and knowing the pastor. We enjoyed his sermons, but we did not want to know him personally lest we were disappointed in his character away from the pulpit. We also had no interest in knowing anyone else. We just wanted to be invisible. To sit in a pew and allow worship and the Word to heal us.
Over the past two years we have dipped our toes in the water just a tiny bit. I have gone to a couple of Bible studies, Ladies Night, evenings of prayer and worship; and although I have not really connected with anyone, God has used those events to shape me. Chad and I went to membership classes - but we have not taken the step to actually join the congregation. We have lingered, vacillating, not quite in or out.
I have been constantly wondering if this was really where the Lord wanted us. I would argue with Him that it was such a BIG church and I was sure I would never be known or missed. They didn't even know I was there and they surely would not miss me if I stopped showing up. In a year of much death (4 grandparents), I would lament to God that if I died there would not even be a pastor that knew me. Who would do my funeral? Where would my kids get married? Though I was not very involved in A church, I was actively involved in THE church. . .
Slowly, after much prayer, God began to humble my heart. I began to realize that the ONLY ONE who needed to know about me was GOD. If I were serving Him, be it all alone on an island or in the midst of the most public organization on the planet, His approval and His knowing me was all that mattered. I do not need to be known or respected or loved on this side of heaven by anyone but Him. Having a Pastor say nice things at my funeral was absolutely NOT important. (And my children are responsible to have their own relationships with Jesus, not merely piggyback on my faith in order to have a nice location in which to host their weddings.)
Our Pastor, who I still have not really met in any significant way, recently preached a sermon about being transplanted. Feeling like a small plant in a huge pot. Though he was speaking about totally different circumstances, I thought, "that is me!" I feel very lost within this HUGE church I attend. I feel unimportant and unrecognized. I feel unsure of my place. But that picture of a tiny plant growing into a bigger pot has challenged me and comforted me.
One thing that I remember talking about a lot in my old church was the fact that people would come to church, sit in the pew for a year or longer and then disappear. My former church (and perhaps all churches) struggled with a revolving door of new people. Some came, others went, but not too many stuck. I could not quite understand it. But I get it now. You see, I did not just need weeks to feel comfortable in my current church, I needed years. When we first started attending, people would greet us, seek us out a bit. However, after just sitting in a pew for nearly two years, people don't quite know how to handle us. They "should" know our names - but since we have not really spoken, other than shaking hands during coffee time - they do not. They assume that since we have not gotten involved yet, we must not want to. At the same time they are withdrawing, feeling like we are a nice looking family that doesn't really want to be known, I am starting to long for someone, anyone to know us.
That realization alone may be why God called us out of safety and into a BIG pot.
I have learned so much through my years as a church seeker. I have learned what it is to feel isolated, though surrounded by people. I have learned what it is to feel like an outsider while the insiders chat about another member of the church that all of them have known for years. I have learned what it is to feel welcome, yet not really included. It has been so rich, yet so humbling, to learn to find my identity as a christian in Christ alone, rather than in the relationships and responsibilities I had at church.
Though I very much regret dragging me feet and refusing to listen to the Lord's call to go, I have no regrets with the going. It has been one of the hardest times I have had spiritually - which also means it has been a time in which I have learned the most. I know God so much better than I did a few years ago. And I have allowed Him to be a much more central part of my life. He stripped many relationships and distractions from my life so that I would focus on Him and His will.
And though I am far from known in our new church, the greeter at the door last week knew my name. I can not tell you how wonderful it felt to have someone say, "Good Morning, Alicia!" with a big, sincere smile.
It is my prayer that will hide all the emotions and lessons of the past years deep in my heart, I always want to remember how it feels to be unknown and unimportant - so that I can reach out to the people God places in my path in a more tender way.
And to all of you church "insiders". . . don't stop reaching out to the people who sit near you in church. Ask their names again. Be brave, invite them for coffee or to a small group, even if they didn't want to come last year. Knowing someone sees you is so valuable. Whether the "new" people in your pew are ready for relationship or not, knowing they are seen is important.
