Coming Home

I have been saying for a year now that I didn't think church was a necessary part of faith and that I might never set foot in one again. I still believe that first half; I do not for one second believe that God intended for us to go inside our steepled buildings and shut the world out with stained glass windows. But that last half is where I'm eating crow. God loves to challenge my comfort zone and my assumptions; I think He enjoys doing that to all of us if we're willing to listen.

I'm not sure what made me decide to try church again for Easter Sunday. Don't know when I decided to try Trinity United Church of Christ but when I called to find out what time the service would be, I was already in. The person who answered the phone said it started at 10:30am. Not even a second after we hung up, it occurred to me that she may have given me the time for Sunday School and I am just not there yet. I don't want to be in a small room full of people where class participation might be expected. I just want to sit in a large sanctuary and have one person do all the talking. I called back and said "Was that the time for Sunday School? Because I don't want to come to Sunday School. I just want to come for the service and I don't want anyone to talk to me. I have so much church baggage its not even funny, so I'll be the one in the back pew crying like a complete moron." And she said "You won't be the only one. And you won't be a moron. The actual service doesn't start until just before 11am."

So, I went today and I prayed that I would hold it together. And I did. Mostly. Until everyone welcomed me so warmly. Until I looked around and saw a black woman at the front, a gay couple to my left and a lesbian couple behind me. Before the service started, everyone was just chatting and they weren't even whispering. I even heard someone say "shit."

This is it.
The place I was meant to be my entire life.
These people, in their irreverence, their acceptance of everyone, are being the hands and feet of Jesus.
They have a homeless ministry.
They have a ministry for troubled youth.
These.
Are my people.

The pastor said they would be passing out communion today. He gave detailed instructions for how it would go down for anyone who had never done it before. He said it didn't matter where you were in your life, on your faith journey, who you loved or what you'd done, you could take communion. And I think that's exactly how Jesus would have it. Jesus always knew that the way to draw people in was with a shared meal. I don't believe that he would exclude anyone from partaking in the body of Christ because of any of the things that usually excludes people before they even get started. Jesus never asked us to be perfect before we could follow Him around and try to emulate Him and He certainly never expected anyone to be perfect before they could sit down and eat with him.

Now that I have found a home, I know why God sent me to that tiny church just before Christmas. I finally know a few things. One: God did not allow that horrible thing to happen to me in church so long ago. But He is using it to His advantage, since it did happen. God uses all of us-the good, the bad and the ugly. Two: He told me to go to that tiny church where I felt free, not because it was the place for me, but because He wanted to show me that all of the things that kept me bound and kept me from achieving my purpose, my bliss and my freedom, were just that: THINGS. It was just a small church, just wooden pews, just a musty church smell, just maroon carpet. He sent me to that church to finally let it all go and to show me that I was being enslaved by someone I had not seen in 20 years by allowing what he did to me to define me.

I am free.
I will no longer be enslaved by the bad things that have happened to me.
I am not defined by the wreckage.
I am not defined by the things that I have done.
I am free.
Liberated.
Just like Jesus meant for all of us to be.