I knew right away how exhausted I was. I slept for what seemed like an entire weekend when I left.
I remember telling my husband that I didn't want to go to church for awhile. I just needed a break. For me, it had become hard to work where I worshipped because the job had taken some of my joy....and I had a hard time separating the two. I didn't know how long I would feel this way and I am grateful that my husband didn't press me and was willing to wait with me.
But as for feeling any experienced grief? I didn't recognize it at first. Maybe I just didn't want to. Maybe because I was finally feeling free to shout, holler and be pissed....I was too busy doing all of that.
I didn't want to lose Jesus. He had been my sustainer. But I sure as hell wanted to lose church.
What I wasn't ready for was the abandonment I felt from people I considered friends. I did reach out. I texted. Sent inboxes. Even some ministry connection kind of things regarding my new position.
Crickets.
It made me so sad, because I wondered how I had been a part of abandoning others who had left---and most not of their own choice. Why hadn't I been intentional about reaching out? Sending a card? Scheduling a coffee date? So I also had understanding, even though I was hurt, because I knew from experience that there was likely a spin/or new narrative being written even in my absence. It likely wasn't kind or flattering and quite honestly, like wasn't true. And I would find out years later that those assumptions were correct. It also made me frustrated every time a new situation revealed itself. My son's request for a Pastor letter of recommendation that went unanswered...even after sending it several times...even after including the assistant. Not being told no. Just flat out being ignored. Inboxes from people telling me I should delete statuses I made because they might make others think negatively of the church. Inboxes from people telling me that I had a loud voice and should be careful how I chose to use it politically. (this really pissed me off after the whole 'NOBAMA' pills.) I almost responded 'F#&! you!' to that person but instead just ignored it. Stuffed it really.
I realized that all of this was making the thought of returning to church difficult to imagine.
I occasionally read my bible. I started to sing again. I still prayed. But I was wary. And weary.
I wandered around like this for about a year or so. Being totally fine not in community and yet even though I did not desire it like that....I missed community as well.
I am grateful at the time that I worked with women who loved to pray, loved to hug and were my sisters. They sustained me. There were life affirming and yet challenged me. I hope that they might say the same of me.
An acquaintance of ours was a Pastor at a church that was nothing like the previous. It was small and seemed harmless. I do not mean that in a disrespectful way at all. Harmless in that because he was a friend and Marlon and I had shared some of our hesitation to 'church' again....he assured us that we were welcome to come and visit--share--join--whatever need be. There would be no pressure to get involved. And there wasn't. It was freeing.
We started out small....attending on occasion...participating. Soon we were there on a regular basis. Soon after that I was helping to lead worship. Soon after that Marlon led communion. Soon after that we were leading Men and Women's Bible Study. There was much kindness there. And we were welcomed with open arms. But I always knew they were not our people. And I always knew the women there were not my flock to lead. There were too many sarcastic jokes at other's expenses...rigid thoughts about homosexuality and race...I found it harder and harder to just be. And it was not anyone's fault....
I did my best to enjoy church. But I couldn't. Not like that.
While all of this had been happening....I was simultaneously beginning to struggle again at my job. The rules (while they did make sense) did not allow me to continue relationship/friendship with the women I was meeting. I was not in agreement with all of the theology that was being preached and taught in class. I loved the ladies. I still loved my coworkers. But I was beginning not to stand behind or love the mission. So I knew that my time there would be coming to an end as well. It occurred to me that it might be time to just work. Not in ministry. Not at a church. Not anywhere Christians claimed to be. Spring of 2016 I left the shelter for a 'in the gap' position. I knew it would an interim to what would come next. But it was an on time job. It paid well, I set my own schedule, and we used words like 'significant other' and 'culturally appropriate'.
But I found myself worried a lot. And sad a lot. And frustrated a lot. Add in that the country was going mad killing black men? And my nest was quickly becoming more empty?
I was lost and a mess. I had lost my religion....honestly, beginning to wonder if I ever
had even found it. Everything and nothing made sense.
That's what I got today.
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