My mother's recurring Sunday afternoon question came through the Bluetooth earpiece as I walked through Staples looking for some office supplies. "Did you go to church today?" Embedded in that question are images of shrieking dead people trying to stay afloat in the lake of fire and I think that she sees my face in the center of the lake - going down for the third and final time. I think that she has the original scroll containing the amendment to the ten commandments that reads, "Thou shalt go to church or thou shalt end up in hell!" You have to love her though. She and many of her generation are of the opinion that some church is better than no church. (But if you want to make her cuss, just ask about tithing, church meetings, and the pastor's mode of transportation in the same conversation!) At one point in my life, I might have agreed with her. After eighteen years of compulsory Sunday School and church attendance, the rebellious and curious college/young adult years, a brief period of gorging on televangelists (such as Creflo Dollar, Joyce Meyer, TD Jakes, and Gilbert Earl Patterson), three wonderful and enlightening years at Princeton Seminary followed by seven years of...umm...seeing the church from the inside out, all I can say about my relationship with the church is...It's Complicated.
Now, before you start fasting, praying and sneaking up to my home to anoint the doors and windows with holy water and oil, let me simply say that I am not anti-church. I am just wrestling with the schizophrenia that is a result of being an ordained minister whose innocence has been snatched away by the same hands that held the communion cup and the collection plate. I used to think church was a safe space until I experienced sexual harassment by a so called man-of-God...who was neither 'a (real) man' nor 'of God' as he inappropriately and repeatedly crossed boundaries with an unholy boldness. The problem with the solution to 'my problem' was that he was not sanctioned for his actions but rather, I was removed from the space formerly known to me as a house of worship. The space remained unsafe for his next victim and he was never called to task for his inappropriate behavior. I had to find my own footing after the incident because while there was no consequence for the perpetrator, neither was there a place of healing for the victim. So, when you see me crying as we sing "There Is A Balm In Gilead" as the congregational hymn, just pass me a tissue because - It's Complicated.
I have seen wonderful examples of pastoral leadership by men and women who are admirable yet fallible. I have witnessed acts of great humility and acts of unbelievable arrogance. I have been a co-conspirator to acts of benign neglect and acts of gross misconduct from the pulpit but to name those acts means naming my other co-conspirators (and we all play a role even if it is the role of silent partner by not calling others out for their poor choices) and we just don't do enough of that. We also need a better way of pushing for what is right. What I have seen all to often is that the behavior is called out but without any serious follow up. I have seen and participated in acts of behind the scenes intervention among fellow clergy but without a clear way to identify our issues and the courage to face and conquer our demons, there is always the chance that we will return to our familiar places of arrogance and ignorance. That becomes most problematic when we forget that there are people in our congregations who look to us for leadership and to be an example - not just for how to bounce back from failure (hell, you can get that from the self-help section of any bookstore or library) but also an example of how to work daily to get it as right as possible. So, as one who has been both congregational follower and clergy leader (but not pastor), I'll need your prayers as I try to strike a balance here but please remember - It's Complicated.
This past year has been one of the most difficult times in my adult life and as a member of a wide circle of friends - both churched and unchurched, I am embarrassed to say that some of my most consistent caregivers and friends in the time of need were the ones who lovingly refer to themselves as 'my heathen friends'. These are not bible-thumping, pew-jumping church leaders or even faithful church members but they are clearly under the influence of a loving God because when I was hungry, they fed me. When I was thirsty, they gave me something to drink. When I was a stranger, they invited me in. When I was naked, they clothed me. When I was sick, they visited me. When I was a captive -even of my own negative thoughts and self-destructive behaviors - they worked tirelessly to set me free. The sweetest part is that not once did any of them ask, "So, where are all of your fancy-schmancy church friends now?" Not once did they indict the church folk for their minimal participation in my healing process. They just came along like the Good Samaritan in the biblical parable and took care of business. Unfortunately, a pastor told me that their kindness would not last but the church would always be there. Yes, the church is still standing - an cold empty building that neither bleeds nor cries and my "heathen" friends are still here - in an Emmanuel-esque "with me" kind of way. So I'll ask you to forgive me if I can't find the energy to go to church this week and stand in the place of honor with the other Priests and Levites who walked past me on the Jericho road (see parable of Good Samaritan) because you see - It's Complicated.
My relationship with God is simple but my relationship with the church is complicated. I love God's people but we are messy and that makes our relationships complicated. The church is an institution and it has been a place of learning, growth and happiness for me. It has also been a place of great disappointment, heartbreak and contradiction and as such, It's Complicated! And when you suggest to me that I should just leave if it is so bad, my response will still be that I cannot leave yet because It's Complicated!
A brilliant pastor friend of mine suggested to me that perhaps we must become the church we thought we would inherit from our Grandmothers. Perhaps he is right. Maybe the only way to get what we need is by becoming what we expected to see. I believe in God, Jesus, the Christ, and the Holy Spirit. I believe that we are called to be God's people in community and not in isolation. I believe that church members and church leaders must have clarity, standards, courage and hearts that are open to new ways of being the Church. The good news is that I am still in a relationship with the church - complicated though it may be. Don't worry about me when I don't go to church for a few weeks and I tell you that's because It's Complicated. Worry about me when I stop asking the questions and wrestling with the issues that make it complicated. (In the meantime, maybe I should just talk to my mother on Wednesdays so we can just discuss the latest happenings on The Young And The Restless.)
Grace and Peace!
Although I am not a fan of Nivea, I like the idea of a love song that makes reference to things being complicated! (Insert 'church' where she says 'boy')
