I am experiencing great turbulence in life right now.
This is my attempt to make some sense of it for myself. I have been dealing
with this deep inner turmoil for the better part of two years now. I have not
shared with many people about the war that I carry inside. Until
recently…recently I decided that the people that I care about, family and
friends need to know about my burden.
I am a big advocate of faith communities; specific to my
experience is the Church. I love the Church and all she represents, scripture
calls her Christ’s bride.
Let us rejoice and exult
and give him
the glory!
For the marriage of the Lamb has come,
and his bride
has made herself ready.
Fine linen, bright
and clean,
was given her
to wear.
(Rev. 19:7-8)
The imagery of a bride is particularly poignant for me as
my experience with church is overwhelmingly positive. I have watched in awe His
bride clothed in the willing and faithful service of people dedicated to
actively loving a faith community and beyond it. They adoringly boast and
prepare for their Bridegroom.
The believers and seekers who make up the Church are each
broken individuals with weaknesses and daily struggles, gathered with a common
genuine desire to reach others with the love of Christ we become partners,
indispensable to one another in love and loss, peace and conflict. A growing
number of people do not trust the Church, and while there are sure to be
thousands of good reasons to dislike a community made entirely of imperfect
people, I think there is a basic fundamental impediment to deeper roots in
community: fear of vulnerability.
In my experience with people who are unhappy with the
church, the reason often involves a mishandled conflict. Someone's pain was not
handled thoughtfully enough, or worse, it was ignored altogether. We may be inclined to look to Church leadership
to examine how conflict is resolved, but the real culprit can be our
unwillingness to be vulnerable with our emotional and spiritual needs. We are
terrified of judgment.
To be fair, the fear of judgement which renders authentic
vulnerability in relationships nearly impossible is a result of so many horror stories specific to Christian communities. I was recently involved in a
ministry that visits strippers to tell them they are loved by Christ. The
ministry exists because strippers picked up the idea somewhere that sinners
can't go to church. They are not the
only ones who believe they are not welcome in church.
Thankfully I am a part of an extraordinary group of
believers in my Life Group, and they have been a shining example of how to handle
someone's vulnerability. I shared my
war with them face to face, and as they listened thoughtfully I saw some eyes
watering, and I lost my composure. I am still grateful for the tender and
loving way they received my sacred shame.
We see how community conflict should be addressed in
Matthew 18. We have a hard enough time with the first step, which simply says
that when we have beef with someone in the church we are to take it directly to
that person. I experienced conflict with a pastor at my church. When confronted, his response was nothing
less than honorable and appropriate.
Church leadership became aware of the problem and took
swift corrective action. It was anything but comfortable, but I never doubted
their love and concern for me and for the church as a whole. They discreetly navigated the difficult line
between being truthful and open about personal transgression and policing the
damage of poisonous gossip that can suffocate and destroy churches.
Stories of churches handling hard things well need to be
told. Protecting our faith communities is important. But the only faith
communities worth protecting are those in which real vulnerability with one
another's darkness is fostered. We
should not white-wash our pain. Walk away from anyone who tries to clean up,
downplay or disregard your pain and doubt and fear.
Humans should not participate in communities of faith and
only present our facades for cleansing. This is a real thing, people place
their faith in symbols, and if our churches represent themselves as pristine
palaces of virtue rather than support groups then we are already killing the
realest part of ourselves that desperately yearns for delicate handling, for
understanding and encouragement.
HEAR THIS, friends: we cannot experience the joy of true
friendship without bearing our wounds. Allow others to dress your tender
spots so that you can experience the fullness intended for loving relationship.
We were made to seek the love and care of others and to give it in return.
There is great joy and freedom in trusting that our brokenness is safe in God's
communities. There is courage in
vulnerability that breeds security.
I ultimately decided it is healthier for me to attend a
different church, and God is blessing that decision. I still get emails, phone
calls, text messages and invitations from what I will always consider my first
church family telling me how treasured and prayed for I am.
Things that make me confident in the future of Christian
community; the love, concern, and gentle admonishment of loved ones, the
enduring restraint against temptation of church leadership, and the delicate
discipline of a loving church government.
I am so grateful for these things and more during my trials. My humble
spirit thankfully receives the beauty of the gospel we share.
