There was a time in my life when I was engulfed with missions
opportunities, bible studies, christian community, service opportunities, and
people willing to invest in my life. This magical time of Christian growth was
because of college ministry. I went into college dissatisfied with Christianity
and hoping to reinvent myself as agnostic. I came out of college having been
baptized, gone on missions trips, participated in street evangelism, taught
classes on how to share ones testimony, and leading bible study leader support
groups. I started a campus project to reach out to LGBTQ students and helped
put together a missions dinner. I personally prayed with more than one person
as they decided to turn their life around and pursue Christ, and I mentored
several students who weren't sure if they wanted to be Christians anymore. In a
way of speaking, I blossomed in this environment. There were rough patches,
sure, but never in my life had I ever had access to so much training, experience,
and opportunity. And I'm not sure I'll ever have it again.
I graduated, see. I packed up and moved on to the “real
world” (though, I'm becoming increasingly convinced that there is no such thing
as the “real world” just changes in the delusions we convince ourselves to
accept). All of a sudden, I had no roommates, no staff workers, no picnics at
the crossroads between my housing and the library, no outreach activities, no
pizza and worship nights, no anything.
Well, there was the church.
I found myself in a new city with no friends and no
connections other than my job. But I did some research and figured I could do
worse than the church 5 blocks from my house.
Honestly, I've been very satisfied with this church as a
whole. They have a website (and their service time is posted on there so I can
check it every other week when I inevitably can't remember if it's 10 or 10:30)
The community is 80% old people, true, but while there's still your classic
fare of quilting clubs, book clubs, potlucks, and Sunday school, this church
actually does something. They have a food pantry. They go on mission trips.
They have outreach programs. They have congregation-wide activities such as the
“read through the New Testament in 9 months” plan and the coffee and doughnuts
after every service.
As you might imagine, I still feel a little lost though. This
isn't new for me. I've moved 13 times in the past 6 years, and during that
time, I've attended 14 different churches as a first-time guest. I've attended
9 of these as a second-time guest, and I've been a regular attender for more
than 3 months at 5 of them. I would say I have a bit of experience attending
new churches.
For those of you into new guest surveys, the things I look
for first time in a church do not include how much dust is behind the door of
the ladies' room (although, basic cleanliness is of course important, I've
never been in a church that I found disgusting due to lack of custodial care).
I look to be greeted warmly and given a brief tour of the building. I look for
values that agree or contradict with my own beliefs. And I look for food. Food
brings people together, folks, and despite the fact that I am now making enough
money to stock a few pantries myself, I will always come to a free lunch.
The second visit is just as important as the first, though.
I've never stayed at a church who neglected to greet me just as warmly upon the
second visit as it did on the first.
So, I attend a church now that meets the above criteria. I
attend almost every week... Or every other week… Well, I'm definitely there at
least once a month. I've been calling this “my church” for about 4 months now.
I feel pretty comfortable here. I'm ready to do something.
Only there's nothing to do.
Hmm. How did this happen? I found a church; I met some people;
I signed up for some events and involvement opportunities; but here I am
sitting at home on a Sunday afternoon writing about how disappointed I am when
I compare my current church with the campus ministry I was a part of not even a
year ago.
I don't think it'll do much good to complain. But I'd still
like to know what happened.
Maybe it's my fault. Maybe if I attended every single week
instead of once a month-- I mean every other week-- I'd be able to connect
better. Maybe if I didn't hide in the back row and never introduce myself, I'd
know more people. Maybe if I was on the mailing list, I'd know what's going on
(where did that envelope go, come to think of it?) Maybe if I volunteered to
lead something, there would be something I could be a part of. Maybe.
Church is not campus ministry. Campus ministry is a
para-church ministry. They will say in their mission statements that they
aren't meant to replace the church, but simply to direct people to Jesus and
encourage them to pursue Him after graduation.
But the thing is, I don't want to go to church. I mean, I
want to. But I don't want to. I want to be a part of a community of people who
share truth and actively love. That's what the church is, right? Except it
isn't. There are a lot of things the church is. The church is a community. The
church is an institution. The church has programs, activities, services, meals,
groups, offices, leadership, kid's services, social events, and singing.
But does the church love? Does the church share truth? Is it
a community full of bench warmers and hobby enthusiasts?
