Long walk to church, not to go to church, but hours after the service was over. We walked 30 minutes with Jeremy to a youth leader meeting. I love that he skips church with me and Ava every-other Sunday. Family day. Love it. I skip it EVERY week. I've stopped trying to think how to rationalize this skipping of church. Well, not really. I TRY to stop rationalizing. I've become non-church-goer, and I'm feeling what it feels to be on the outside. Somewhat ostracized, but mostly non-understood, I think. It's strange to others, I think, to know that I'm a Bible School graduate, and formerly very involved, and now not going at all. And GOING is what one does if one is a “mature believer.” It's starting to feel like an experiment on my end, to see how Christians act when one of their own stops getting with the program. But that's not why I don't go... Simply, I don't like the unspoken rules I used to impose upon myself. I want to be rule-free (I started to look up some Scripture – I think it was Galatians or Ephesians that talks about freedom from observing certain dates and rules... and I realized that it's most of Paul's writing that tries to pound into the readers that it's time to be free from Religious rites...etc.). For me, breaking the rules of church has been horribly hard. Lonely. Lots of being misunderstood. I really just want to be able to follow Christ. Not Christians. I may be a church-goer again one of these days. For now, I'm still under some guilt. (And I want to be guilt-free before I go again.) Why else would I explain my absence to the church people as needing to give Ava her naps (which is true, but I could go on our “family Sundays” and have Jeremy be with Ava. Thank you, Ava, for the easy excuse). Part of me likes this breaking away from tradition, and part of me feels like a big fat sinner.
I love Jesus, but want to know Him and love Him more. When I tell my traditional self that “I love Jesus”, it tastes like a lie. For, if I were a real lover of Christ, I would be in church, heading up some programs, reaching out instead of in. There's still so much I don't understand, and I suspect at times that I'm on the wrong track – because it is a lonely track. I feel like a liberal, wishy-washy Christian who doesn't want to commit, and who thinks of Jesus as a nice example. And idea more than a Love.
Anyways, I'll figure this thing out. (Like it's in the brain.)
The 30 minute walk to church, and 30 minutes back was nice. It's sunny, warm, and finally the humidity has settled down after 2 weeks of unbearable wet. I got a slushy coffee thing, and let Ava play in the nursery for a bit. Said 'hi' to some of the regulars. And realized that even when church isn't in service, I feel like an outsider. It's such a strange feeling. I was always in that clique. Not realizing that it was a clique. I guess you don't realize you're in one when you're in one, and you believe you're accepting of others. Believing that and doing something about it are worlds apart from each other.
I listened to Hannah's mix on my phone's MP3 player. So calming. Thought about our town – how it's not so bad. It feels like Oregon today, warm, almost dry, all the plant-life in absolute fullness. I noticed smells of asphalt, hints of an autumn smell, and house smells: rotten wood, laundry detergent, stale cigarettes. I listened to the lyrics and realized, again, that poetry still lives. This thought came when I heard the line: “What I am to you is not real” (Volcano, Damien Rice). Love that. Love.
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