making church safe again

The sky outside is a little too blue, the air too fresh and and the sun is way too sparkly and bright.  I swear, I can smell fried chicken too.  It feels like Sunday out there, people!!  I don't like it!!  My issues and insecurities about church have been bothering me lately.  I know they bother my friends too.  I don't understand where all this comes from because I don't consider myself to have been spiritually abused.  I grew up in a dysfunctional church and my family embraced fundamentalist teachings.....but abuse?!

Nevertheless, I ran to google to find out if I'm the only one that deals with this.  (I'm not)  There's a lot of people out there who struggle with church and are lonely and spiritually un-fed because of it.  Sometimes the things that churches do in order to make people feel welcome are the very things that make some of us flee in terror.  I'm lucky to be in a church that feels somewhat safe.  I feel super weird admitting that I'm even IN a church, but whatever.  

So, what helps?  What makes church a safe place for people like me? 

A safe way in...

Leave one door un-manned by a greeter and give us the option to sneak inside unnoticed.  I haaaate the awkwardness of dealing with church greeters, having the door opened and a bulletin or church advertisement handed to me while I shuffle through and try not to look stupid or trip over my own feet.  My smile is forced and I wouldn't be shocked if I accidentally throw out an F-bomb because I'm nervous and have no idea how to say hello like a normal person.  Pure torture.  There have been times that I've changed my mind about going to church because there's no way to get inside.  Lately, my favorite way to deal with this issue is to arrive insanely early.  Like, the second the doors are unlocked.

A safe way out...

This is HUGE for me.  I need to know that I'm not trapped in an unbearable situation.  The second I walk into a church I'm already planning my escape route. Sometimes, I'll slip out 5 minutes early, hopefully unnoticed.  The feeling of freedom and relief when the outside air hits my lungs and I can walk to my car in silence....is bliss.  Other times, I'll avoid the after-church crowd and just hang out and people watch or talk to one or two trusted friends and then lock up and walk out with them.  It seems a lot of churches will have communion tables set up near the doors.  Whyyy???  At my own church, I purposely go to a service where I know that communion tables will be set up downstairs, but not in the balcony.  I can safely escape without the mass of people taking communion or the awkwardness of choosing to not participate and watching droves of people slowly file past. 

A safe place to sit...

Being at church really does feed my soul.  It's good to hear the music, to hear the teaching.  Sometimes though, old fears and memories will creep in and I'll go through a season where I simply can't bear to sit in a room called a sanctuary, much less participate.  I love finding places to be in church and hear what's going on....without being part of the crowd.  It's dysfunctional and unhealthy, I KNOW.  But at least I'm there, right?  My church has a chair upstairs in the hallway outside the balcony.  I never sit there, but I love the gesture.  Somehow, that chair gave me the freedom to sit on the floor in the hallway.  This has been a thing for me for many years, even as a kid.  I once went to a church that had speakers in the bathrooms.  That was genius!  I could hide in a bathroom stall and listen in absolute privacy.  I've also been to churches that had smaller side rooms close enough to the sanctuary where I could be alone and still hear everything.  

A preview...

I need to know what to expect.  Before going to any new place, I will look for pictures online.  I can scope out my way in, my way out and where I'm gonna sit.  Knowing what to expect when I get there will soothe a lot of anxiety and can make or break my decision to actually go.  A friend of mine has been inviting me to her church recently and was sweet enough to give me a virtual tour with her phone.  How awesome would it be if churches would post things like that on their websites?  Ha!

I also have this weird need to know what the sermon will be about.  For people who have experienced harm through the misuse of scripture or just bad teaching....this is valuable.  Thankfully, I have a gracious pastor who never seems to tire of my weekly text message asking what church is gonna be about that day.  He's aware of my history and my current struggle and I trust him to tell me if a subject will be difficult.  I need spoilers!  All of them!  Knowing the subject beforehand will help me to be mentally present and actually listen with an open heart and mind.

No judgement...

I'm well aware of the verse that talks about forsaking the assembly. I know I should go.  I know.  Church is difficult, not just for me but for a lot of people.  Most people don't talk about why, it's easier to avoid it altogether.  Pray for us.  Love us.  Have coffee with us!  I love Jesus, I really do.  I'm much more apt to show up at church if I have a sense of connection outside of church.  Isn't that what it's all about anyway?  Those 6 days between Sundays where we can put all of the "one another" verses into action and actually experience iron sharpening iron?  For me, authentic friendship with other believers can soften the edges and smooth out the difficulty of facing church.

the disappointing daughter

I went to bed last night with a broken and hurting heart.   I feel like a failure, a disappointment to my parents.  A few weeks ago I found out that my dad has been cultivating a friendship with my ex-boyfriend.  This was incredibly confusing to me, at first.  It felt like betrayal.  I didn't have the balls to call him out on it, so my sister did.  Ha!  Big sis to the rescue, like usual...fighting battles that are only hers because of our blood oath sister pact.  Turns out, my dad is proud of the man my ex has become.  (Is he not proud of me??)  My ex reached out and my dad jumped at the chance for a relationship with the Godly son in law he never had.  I've now blocked my dad on facebook, also blocked the ex just in case he tries to dig for info on what my life looks like now.  My sister thinks they're clueless about what our relationship actually looked like, how unhealthy it was...spiritually, emotionally and physically.  My parents were devastated by our break-up.  I used to joke that they loved him more than they loved me.  When I brought my husband home to announce our engagement, I had to ask my mom to take down framed pictures of my ex boyfriend.  She was sad, but said she understood.

My sister has been reading Mama's journals and texting me pictures of pages she thinks I would be interested in.  Once again, I'm reminded of my mother's opinions and desires.  In 2002, she had high hopes for me and the future of our family.  Apparently my dad is still hanging onto these hopes, evidenced by the friendship with my ex.

A few nights ago I sat at a table with women from my church...listening to them talk about raising their kids in today's dating culture, teaching them about sexual purity and healthy relationships.  These women love their kids fiercely and want the best for them in life.  Not unlike my own mom.  This conversation put me back into the mindset of a teenager, kinda made my heart scream with rage and bleed with sadness.  I wanted to tell these moms to make sure they taught their kids what to do when they failed, when their reality didn't measure up to their dreams, when their perfect girlfriends turned out to be closet whores addicted to porn.  Too harsh?

My ex was the perfect boyfriend, according to the 1990's purity culture.  He fit the list of "future husband qualities" that I'd written and kept tucked away in my Teen Study Bible.  I majored in Nursing at Oklahoma Baptist University, he was a Pastoral Ministry major.  Together, we had a solid plan for the future.  Graduate, get married, make lots of money, have some babies, live our lives for Jesus, and then lovingly and attentively care for my aging parents....oh wait, whose plan was this again?

Their dream of having a perfect daughter has skidded to a halt in a spectacular crash and burn.  I dropped out of college.  Dumped the perfect boyfriend.  Shacked up with "some guy from work."  Stopped going to church (actually became an atheist, but they don't know that).  Got married in an attempt to "fix" the issue of shacking up.  Nearly killed myself with alcoholism.  I know my parents are disappointed and confused by my lack of involvement in their lives as they grow older.  I can sense their fear that I won't step up when they're no longer able to care for themselves.  They want grand-babies.  They want holiday dinners with the glow of family, frequent weekend visits and long telephone conversations.  My dad wants to stand in a picket-fenced yard beside his son in law and talk about wood working and house-remodeling.  Their lives have not turned out the way they hoped because I have not turned out the way they hoped.

I've done my best to hide my failures from my parents.  They vaguely know the events that have happened, but they aren't aware of any ugly details, my thoughts or reasons.  I don't trust them with this information.  Sometimes I wonder if I've missed out on some fabulous parental wisdom because I've chosen to hide so much from them.  Over the years I lost sight of my own identity because I've been so busy trying to be the daughter they've always wanted.

I want redemption.  I want to find my own identity, not as my parent's daughter, but as a wild and free child of God.  I want freedom from my mistakes, the failed attempts at living a life that wasn't even my idea.  I have no idea what that looks like, but I'm thinking it involves letting go of my own expectations of myself.  I chose to take on my parent's ideas as my own, but I can also choose to leave them behind.  This rosy dream died a long time ago.  I've been alternately denying and grieving this death.  It feels like it's time to move on, step out and move forward.  I just....don't really know where to go.

a fresh start

Hi, my name is Angela.  I'm a recovering alcoholic, eating disorder sufferer, abuse survivor and ex-atheist.  I felt the need to create a new place to write.  My old space held a lot of dark baggage and I was struggling to write freely.  I don't want to let go of my old domain just yet because it's a chronicle of the darkness I've lived in.  A lot has changed and I want to detach a bit from the "old me" without forgetting who she is.

As of today, I've been sober for 74 days.  I hate that I had to start over.....but I'm beginning to realize that recovery is both simple and complicated.  It's a choice that I make daily, but it isn't something that I can do in my own power.  At the end of the day I can't take credit for my sobriety, yet I can be proud of my own part in it.  I'm not a hardcore AA'er but I have a deep respect and love for the program.  I didn't find my freedom solely through the steps.  At the risk of sounding like a Christianeesy lunatic....I found my freedom through Jesus.  A small part of me is in a panic over writing that sentence just now.

It recently dawned on me that my preoccupation with God is part of what's keeping me sober.  Faith does not come easy for me.  I. Question. Everything!  Church terrifies me, the Christian community baffles me, the Bible intrigues me....yet the Holy Spirit pulls me close, reins me in.  The more I focus on figuring this God stuff out, the less desire I have to destroy myself.  Funny how that works, huh?