Wounded Brides

"Can I ask you something?"  a friend recently asked me. "I'm considering  de-churching.  I know you've had your own struggles with the church. What do you think?"  She went on to describe her legitimate concerns. In fact, I have talked with many Christians who have been hurt enough over the years that  they simply dropped out of church.

Some left when the theology was not true to scripture. Others were badly hurt by other church members, or worse yet, by pastors, shepherds helping themselves to a leg of lamb or using their power to pronounce but not their ears to listen nor their arms to hug. Others left churches which overlooked hurting people like so many bags on the side of the highway while they pushed forward with building programs. Some, both clergy and laymen, were used up, overworked, underappreciated and burned out. Some left for what we'd consider trivial matters.

My friend is a godly woman who is tenderhearted and seeks to see the best in everyone and every situation so I knew that for her to come to this point was difficult. Indeed, as she knew, it was a way station I had visited several times myself. I'd been tempted to de-church, too.

I talked it over with my husband, a man who deeply loves God, was called to ministry to the church as a child and has pursued it, and God, with an unflinching affection and devotion ever since. "Sometimes," he said, "my faith in Jesus is very strong at the same time that my trust in the church is not."

And yet, we churchgoers are not free from fault, either. Sometimes we are the ones who are so rushed we don't take time to offer a bit of love to someone who desperately needs it. Or we find petty, nitpicky things to be irritated about with the pastor, or the music, or the person in the next pew, whereas scripture exhorts us that love is not easily angered.  We don't jump in and get involved but then complain that no one knows us.  We don't speak to the pastor, or a brother, when things don't seem quite right, choosing to gossip instead. We don't reach out to the divorced, the recovering, the lonely, or those who appear different from us. There's work to do on both sides and oftentimes our perspective is colored by what we've experienced most.

If you're privvy to several crumbling marriages in which the wife constantly complains about smallish things, a chubby hubby or an ignored to-do list,  you may be inclined to believe that there are too many seeking divorce over trivial matters. If you're friends with a handful of women whose husbands ignore, hurt, use, or degrade them, you certainly wouldn't advise looking on the bright side and ignoring it all.  So it goes with the church, and perhaps our perspectives on de-churching.

I sought the Lord, and He directed me to a tiny little ebook I'd downloaded onetime called, "A Primer on Evil" by T.  In it, the author shares a pithy truth that "The Evil find out what you want and then (they try to) take it away from you."

It struck me, then. Who is the Chief of Evil? Satan. And whom does he hate most? God. And what does God want?  A loving bride, the Church.  He tells us, "A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another." Satan cannot remove us from God's hands, but he can drive us so far apart from one another that the church can become a very dysfunctional marriage indeed, harming one another till we divorce ourselves from it for good. And that would hurt God, whose bride is then separate and suffering.

Because some spouses behave badly does not mean that the institution of marriage is wrong. When it's working correctly it's a beautiful, holy thing. That is true with the church, too. Yes, some in the church have hurt me. And yes, I've hurt some in the church. But the church has also loved me. Only recently a friend who knew my wounds took time to become a bridge between my family and a church where the pastor is a true shepherd who took time to listen, love, and welcome. She is the church, too.  As is he. There are hundreds of thousands, millions, like them.

I won't pretend that there aren't bad churches; there are. I've attended some, and if you're at one, it's okay to leave. But let's not ignore that there are good churches, too; I've attended some of those as well and when you've left the bad you need to lick your proverbial wounds and then press on till you find the  (imperfect) good. They're there. Do like State Farm exhorts – ask your friends.

I don't want to be a tool to be used to hurt God and take away what He loves. My prayer is that I can become more like those who have reached out to me and then stretch myself to enfold other wounded brides.