rebel diaries :: no longer a salesman

Editor's Note: I'm excited to pick back up with Rebel Diaries with this submission I've had since I first announced the series. How quickly we fall into the trap of turning Christ into a commodity. How faithfully He draws us back into His embrace.

I am a recovering salesman.

I sold House Church. After so many years I know the pitch by heart: "If you've been raised in the church you're familiar with this scene: It's Sunday morning and the family is frantically trying to get out the door. Inevitably someone is yelling, cursing, crying, sulking all the way to the church doors. But the moment you cross the threshold - the mask goes on. 'How are you, sister?' and you beam and say, 'Great!' You know what I'm talking about don't you? House Church isn't like that. The mask has to come off. People know the instant you come through the door that something is wrong. You can't hide behind a fake smile. You are in relationship. Community. Every joint supplies."

And just like that I had them dazzled.

Humans crave genuine relationship. It sounds idyllic. House church was the answer to everything that was wrong with typical American religion. I bonded with my peers in self-righteousness, distancing from the "institution" and all of those poor souls who mindlessly followed wolves in sheeps' clothing. It was rarely stated that "they" were all wrong - after all, we met in a building for decades without knowing any better - but we had no doubt that we'd uncovered the secret to "Biblical Church" and we were commissioned to spread that gospel. The pressure was on to bring in the harvest.

When people got uncomfortable and left the church the conclusion was that, "They love the darkness more than the light. They can't handle biblical relationships." I watched friends question church leaders only to end up leaving among whispers of rebellion, heresy, pride, and an unrepentant heart. We prayed for the destruction of the flesh that their souls might be saved.

I lived in fear of disagreeing with leadership.

For years I wrestled with doctrinal and relational issues. I couldn't reconcile what they believed with the word of God and what I saw. I lacked the courage to approach with my questions because I knew my loyalty to and trust of their leadership would be undermined. So I convinced myself to fake it til I made it. I became more of an expert at wearing the mask in house church than ever before in a church building. I was just open enough to prove I still had a relationship with the Lord and His people and most of the time I even fooled myself.

My mask began to crack the day my best friend and her family were excommunicated from our fellowship over a minor doctrinal difference.

Church leaders claimed the truth was spoken in love -- with tears and prayers that this drastic distance would wake them up and cause them to repent and return. Meanwhile, their name was dragged through the mud. It was suggested we distance ourselves lest we be influenced by "damnable heresy."

Distance wasn't an option for me. I was to be the maid of honor in my best friends wedding. My heart broke. All the questions I'd buried came rolling to the surface. I felt like I was in bondage, and wondered if I was blinded or even possessed for doubting. I was utterly unable to think for myself and weighed every conclusion against what I assumed the church would think of it. My closest friends and family were as deeply involved as I was and I risked losing it all by leaving. I was trapped. Nevertheless, I stood proudly by my best friend during the most God-honoring wedding I've ever been a part of.

And I prayed.
Desperately.
For weeks.

Finally the Lord spoke. "Your life does not hang in the balance of this decision. You still love me." And I realized -- I'm not leaving Him. I'm just leaving house church. I'm not sure whether I failed house church or house church failed me. I'm seeking counseling to sort through the lies I was told and the lies I perceived. For me, healing has just begun. I am fighting to figure out who I am and what I believe. But I know one thing: the gospel is no commodity and I am no longer its' salesman.