Church vs. Religion: Why church and I still don't get along...

Today was my fourth time going to the church here, and my sixth time going to church so far without being coerced, manipulated or forced.

My early exposures to church were particularly bad. The first time I remember, my dad got criticized by his family for not being more proactive in our spiritual lives and I vaguely recall him bringing us to a white church with grey steps. I was probably no more than five and I'm not sure I had been in school yet. Needless to say, it didn't take and the three of us got yelled at in the car for falling asleep so quickly. At least we were quiet...

The next times I'd go would be a little later on, when my grandparents forced me while I was staying with them at their cottage in the summer. The services were Catholic and French. Two things I didn't have a good enough grasp of to understand nor to care to understand. Somehow though, I did like the outdoor services, even with the three giant crosses looming in the background. I don't remember ever wondering what the other two were for, and I know for sure I never asked.

I remember my grandparents having an anniversary party wherein a pastor or priest gave communion and I was told specifically not to move out of my seat because it wasn't for me. I think I was nine at the time and I watched dozens of my cousins line up while my brothers and I sat silently along the edge of the room.

I had quite a few church experiences under my belt before I became a follower and the overwhelming theme repeated throughout seems to have been "you're not one of us." Somebody I know (not sure if she'd want me to post her name on this blog, hehe) posted a thingy of rejected children's book ideas on her blog and #1 was "You're different and that's bad." I think that book would have been about my experiences in church. :D

And so today, as I sat there during the opening worship, I still felt equally out of place, only I've been trying a lot harder to try to... well, not fit in, so much as respect the goings on in the church. The heartfelt worship I understand. The lifting the hands up in praise of God I also understand (now). But the language I still don't understand. I mean, I know what they're saying, but after spending a lifetime outside of it, I still see it from the perspective where all of a sudden people are so enraptured by God that they stop speaking English and start speaking something else. And it would still be all fine and good except that when they revert to that language, they seem to lose sight of reality too.

"You're the defender of the weak, You comfort those in need, You lift us up on wings like eagles."

Like.. um.. what..?

I'm standing there, reading the words off the screen and I know I've got the worst poker face ever so I must have had my "wtf?" face on the whole time. I just can't do it. I can't sing that God is the defender of the weak. Or that He comforts those in need. That's not the gospel to me. The gospel to me is "you're weak now, but trust God and you'll be redeemed. Trust God and one day, everything will be made clear." The gospel to me is not that God comforts those in need, because let's face it, when we're really, desperately in need, whether we have faith or not, we tend to feel ridiculously alone. No doubt somebody in the audience was going through a hard time and stood there mumbling the words thinking the same "wtf?" I was, but would never admit it in case that made them a bad Christian in some way.

If David asks, "My God my God, why have you forsaken me?" and Jesus Himself asks the same question, why are we not allowed? And frankly, to not ask the question kind of lacks a little honesty. You know? I'm a relatively new Christian and I've still already prayed, "God, I can't feel You at all right now. I know You're there. I just can't feel You. I wish I could. But I don't. Help me to feel connected to You again." I've already felt the burn of doubt in my heart so many times regardless of the fact that I'm a newbie, full of passion and naive certainty. I can't imagine that the others in the room who live in this city and are surrounded by anti-religious hate have never felt that burn.

It's a nice idea though- God comforting us when we need Him. Wrapping His big, strong God arm around you, making it warm or cool depending on what He knows comforts you most... But that's not God. Nowhere in the Bible does it say God sent His only begotten Son such that whoever believes in Him should not perish but feel hugged and cherished... While that might accidentally be a cute rhyme, I don't think that was the point of the Gospel. God knows we struggle to feel Him. He knows because He felt it Himself in Jesus' darkest hour. He knows.

And really, "You lift us up on wings like eagles"? What? Like eagles'? Bah, I just don't get it. It's just not English.

That was my problem as I stood there watching these people sing lyrics that I just can't understand them actually meaning without them being subject to a sort of lifelong plague of superficiality. Like, if nothing in your life has gone wrong ever, obviously God will feel comforting. Right? Because at that point, your faith has never really been challenged. But how many people does that represent? And so are the rest pretending? Worshiping via wishful thinking?

I'm not judging the worship leaders or anything. They just pick stuff that they feel suits the context of the sermon and things. They do their best and they do lead well....

Anyway, the sermon went on, about the Beatitudes (which I still haven't figured out how they acquired that name. Why Beatitudes? I should look it up. Later.), and the pastor talked about how he came to plant in Montreal. A non-Christian where he used to live attended church and helped with the church simply because he enjoyed the environment (that part blew my mind a little), and then he moved to Montreal. The pastor thought right away, "Oh, no. He'll be lost forever now." But somehow in seeing the complete faithlessness and brokenness here, he was driven into faith. He asked the pastor to plant here. There's definitely a need... The pastor said he'd pray on it and see. After a couple of visits here, the guy went to a prayer meeting for the city and came home particularly upset and asked again why the pastor wouldn't plant here. "If you saw somebody drowning, would you pray on it?"

And so he planted.

As a person praying for the Acts 29 network to plant here, that story touched me. I counted the people in church today and it was somewhere around forty and I'm generally near the top as far as age goes. It's such a young church with such an overwhelming uphill battle, especially when it seems like the strongest leaders of the Christian community have already written us off. And I know bickering about words in songs is counterproductive, but at the same time, if it makes me want to run and I love Jesus...

People here have a fierce problem with religion. Myself included. That's why the sermons from Vintage 21 in North Carolina hit me so hard last year. They weren't religion. They were the Gospel. They were just Jesus. And honestly, I don't see how anybody can get to know Jesus without loving Him. The problem is, things get in the way between us and Jesus. Things like how we should be like eagles sitting on the wings of some other mystery bird.

After the sermon, the worship team or praise team, I don't know the semantics, got up again and then it was time for the breaking of the bread.. Um.. I don't know what that's called either. Communion? Or is that Catholic only? Supper? I don't know. Anyway, as the pastor broke the bread and said his little thing about it, I watched intently. He did make it meaningful though, and asked those who have accepted Jesus to go and partake in the breaking of the bread. Everybody stood up and lined up except me.

It was at that moment that I realized that no matter how much I might ever allow myself to conform, God made me different. And if nothing God does is accidental, He made me different deliberately.

I can't eat the bread. And whether the wine is wine or it's grape juice, I can't drink it either. My body just will not allow any of it. Well, it would probably allow wine, but I haven't had any alcohol since 1996 and I'm not about to start now.

But I can't help but wonder. God chose me. If God chose me, knowing I'd live the life I have so far and knowing who I am inside and out, why would He choose somebody so different? Why would He choose somebody who can't conform no matter what?

I came home afterward, made my pancakes (as long as the flour is stripped of nutrition and especially of fiber, I can eat it) and poured a glass of single-ingredient grape juice (it's actually the apple juice they usually mix in with grape juice that I'm intolerant to). I thanked Jesus for sacrificing Himself for me even though I'm so broken and undeserving and dug in, knowing the food I had accepted gladly would be accepted gladly both by my body and by my heart.

I love Jesus. I just still suck at church. But the way in which I suck at it makes me wonder if maybe there's another more natural way to go about church. Maybe there's another way to go about preaching the gospel, worshiping God and living in community without having to learn an alternate language. Maybe.

Wouldn't a theologically sound yet naturally passionate endeavor stemming from the heart be more productive to the kingdom of God? Maybe not for everywhere, but at least for here, a place that has been so burned by the church and religion?

Or maybe I just have to suck it up, be quiet and be a good legalist... uh... I mean, Christian, and mumble along about wings shaped like eagles.

Maybe.