(Part Two)
With my former church behind me, I found myself struggling in a way that I wasn’t used to. I mourned the relationships that I’d established at my old church. I missed sharing God with others that came into my office, but the biggest thing that I grieved over was the loss of myself. I had changed both physically and mentally. The pain I felt from the aftermath of what had transpired became unbearable for me and the physical toll was present in my reflection in the mirror. There was so much anger fueling my ability to move on and to get over my abrupt exit from my former church.
I eventually found solace writing down my feelings, which turned into a book. Word after word, poured from my fingertips onto my computer screen until I found myself with one hundred and four pages of feelings before me. I unapologetically wrote the truth about what had happened to me and I felt certain that I needed to share that truth, especially once I learned that my pastor had been speaking mistruths about me. Those lies needed correcting in my mind. In reality, I suppose I was scathing over how abandoned I felt by people in that church who were supposed to care for me, and so God in His ultimate wisdom would later show me that the book I’d written was for the purpose of my healing and nothing more. It was never to be published, although the opportunity for that to happen was within my grasp. That too would be yet another crossroad that God would bring me to, leaving me with the decision to either follow my heart’s desire or what I knew God expected me to do. You can read about the decision that I made in my next post, “Being Selfless in a Selfish World.”
Although the book was written, the healing process wasn’t over, but somewhere in the aftermath of what had happened, I felt God tugging at my heart to send my former pastor/boss a card. I remember vividly, the tears that fell from my eyes as I reached out to him in the way that God had expected me to. In the way that Christians are supposed to. I knew that I had to forgive, what I felt certain was unforgiveable. Those tears that I cried were cleansing ones and I remember feeling a weight being lifted off of my shoulders as I mailed that card to my former pastor/boss.
Although I had hoped for some sort of response, I never received it. I had wanted to know that my pastor felt sympathetic for how he’d treated me. More importantly, I needed to know that he was willing to practice the very words that he spoke from behind the pulpit. Those words never came, and so I found myself going backwards, reliving that day and then finding myself engulfed with the same anger I’d felt when leaving his church. I should have never revisited the hurt, after all, there is a reason that Jesus tells us in scripture to not look back.
Jesus replied, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.” Luke 9:62
There’s this thing about being a Christian that is difficult, even for the most seasoned Christian and that is not digging up past hurts, but God expects us to forgive. Forgiveness is moving forward and not reliving whatever it was that made forgiveness necessary in the first place. God was showing me much in this journey that He had me on and I was learning, and however slowly, I was starting to understand. God was about to take me back to the beginning to learn the most important lesson of all. One that He’d been preparing me to learn since leaving Pastor Sturman Moore’s church. He was going to show me why He’d moved me from a place of peace and comfort, to a place of turmoil and angst. It was all about taking up the cross and becoming the church. Thankfully, I was almost to the point of finally getting exactly what it was that God was trying to teach me.
As painful as my last experience had been, I didn’t want to give up on church, and so I felt it necessary for me to find another one. Somehow, I still was living under that misconception that being a Christian meant going to church, and so within just a few weeks, I found myself at the very church my Christian-walk had first began. It would seem that I’d come full circle somehow in my journey as a learning Christian.
Walking into that church, where I had once been a member, in some way I felt at home. Long gone was the person who’d gossiped about me, prompting me to leave that church in the first place. My former pastor too was gone, retired several years earlier. Even the building itself had changed with an expansion to its structure. Although it seemed so vastly different, the moment I entered through its doors, I had a feeling of familiarity, of being right where I was supposed to be. My old church was now a new church in more than one way for me. It was in the stage of replanting and now under a new name. It somehow felt right to me, as I too felt that I was in the stage of replanting. I had journeyed so far and experienced so much seeking God in buildings and now He’d brought me home to where it all had started for me. I was leaving behind the residual negative effects of my former pastor and anticipating what my new pastor would be like.
My first impression of him was his size. He was a big man whose physicality appeared almost intimidating, but I soon learned just how gentle my new pastor was and I felt instantly drawn to him. He seemed to be exactly what I needed at that point in my life. He didn’t care about numbers, whether it was a head count or the amount in the church’s bank account. He had a vulnerability about him that I was drawn to. He lacked ego, and I remember the positive impression that I had of him when he unexpectedly broke down into tears, during one of his sermons. That part of him seemed similar somehow to my much beloved pastor, Sturman Moore. Pastor Moore had shed a genuine tear or two from behind the pulpit on several occasions and it endeared him permanently to my heart. I suppose it was wrong of me to compare all pastors to Pastor Moore, but for me, he truly had been made in the image of God and when he died, I remember crying the same way in which I cried over the death of both of my parents. I was so excited by the prospect of having a Pastor similar to Sturman Moore.
With that hope comes the danger of putting our faith in man when it should only be placed in God.
After nearly two years in my new church, I found myself at ease in having several amazing conversations with my new pastor. We’d went on prayer walks together and talked about all the many things he would like our church to do. He brought in a mission team to teach us how to do mission work. Things seemed hopeful and I, along with several others in the congregation, were hopeful in the direction we were headed. There seemed to be an enthusiasm spreading throughout the church, but with that enthusiasm came talk of disorganization and fear of the pastor’s inability to follow through. At first, I was oblivious to what was happening around me, but then slowly I realized that my new pastor had many wonderful ideas in theory, but that he lacked the confidence to enact them.
At some point in time, the pastor asked if I would consider becoming the church secretary. He felt certain that I could help get the church headed in the right direction with its replant. Where I had tremendous faith, it seemed that the pastor had uncertainty. He, as well as others in the church began to take notice of my enthusiasm for God, and so several had approached him about asking me to be the church secretary.
I found myself excited by the idea of it, but just as anxious. I didn’t want to go backwards in my walk with God. I didn’t want to return to the place I’d found myself at my previous church. I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing another man of God, not living the life that he himself was instructing others to live. I feared the opportunity to see behind the curtain and once again, not liking what I saw.
With that healthy concern intact, I knew in order to make the right decision that I would need to meet with both the pastor and the church’s treasurer. I sensed a power struggle going on there and I wanted to make certain that I wasn’t putting myself in the middle of it, stepping on anyone’s toes in the process. As often as I would ask my pastor if that could possibly be the case, he would assure me by saying that there were no toes to be stepped on and that the church belonged to the entire congregation. Reiterating that by saying, it was “our church.”
It was good in theory, but I didn’t fully believe that. After all, I felt an underlying tug of war between the treasurer, her family, and the rest of the congregation. I sensed that the treasurer and her family did not want me to step into the vacant secretarial position and I had no desire to step on those proverbial toes that I’d been concerned about stepping on.
While meeting with the pastor and the treasurer, I felt an uneasiness that can only be explained as discernment, and so I cautiously asked the pastor if he was feeling pressured to ask me to be the church’s secretary. I needed to know that the treasurer and her family were on board with those wanting me to be the secretary. The pastor’s response to me was unexpectedly stern as he said, “no one controls me!” It was the first time that I’d seen a side of him that differed from his normal gentle side and I got the distinct impression that he was trying to assert his authority in front of the treasurer somehow.
In leaving that meeting, I felt certain that God did not want me to take the job and so a few days later, I politely declined the job offer. The following Sunday after I’d made my decision, the treasurer came over to where I sat, bent down to hug me, saying that she understood my decision. There appeared to be a sense of relief on her face and after that day, things seemed to change drastically. There was no longer any question about who controlled the church, and any power that the pastor once had, seemed to be relinquished, whether it was willingly or not. Soon after, the atmosphere in the church began to change, so much so that I talked with the pastor, telling him that I felt a sense of foreboding when entering the church to the point of wanting to flee.
His words came back in an unexpected way, as he shared with me that he understood because he too sometimes felt that way.
Within weeks of that conversation, the church seemed devoid of God’s presence and I wondered if God had left that church. In actuality, I felt certain that He had, but how was that even possible? After all, church was where God was supposed to reside, right?
I was about to learn the most valuable lesson that God had been preparing me to learn since I took my first step into a church. Church is not a building, and with that realization, I knew that I had to leave that building behind me, and become the church that God expected me to be. I couldn’t allow myself to be pulled into the darkness that I felt had been allowed in. It was the same sort of darkness that I had felt while working at my previous church. Regardless of similarities, my departure this time would be different. Instead of allowing others to convince me to stay, I did not hesitate in leaving when God instructed me to go.
Within months of my leaving, the doors to that church were closed and the building was put up for sale. It wasn’t “our church” after all, it wasn’t even God’s, it was simply a building.
I finally understood the true definition of a Christian and it had nothing to do with going to church, but everything to do with being the church instead. With that realization, I have come to the conclusion that very few people sitting in church buildings are actually Christians, and I suppose I have to be okay with that, as long as I am one of those few that are. If you are longing to be the type of Christian that God expects you to be, then instead of sitting in a building, playing church, become the church. After all, there is only one God and man is not Him.