I’ve really been missing someone to talk to about my faith. The Christian world calls it “fellowship.” Ever since I came to faith I’ve had at least one person in my life that I could discuss things with. Of course, some relationships weren’t so healthy (Mike, Max) and some were a little dysfunctional (Audrey) but there’s always been someone. Now, there’s no one.

I will accept the responsibility for this problem, I suppose, because I haven’t been to church regularly since I got pregnant. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out that there’s still some underlying shame hanging around. The concept of God’s forgiveness is so easy to preach and so difficult to accept.

My church is a very wealthy church in a very wealthy part of St. Louis. I only got plugged in there in 1998 because the guy who brought me to faith suggested I try it. I did. I loved the pastors, I loved the preaching, I loved the building, I loved the people and I stayed - despite my ever-present feelings of inadequacy and inferiority when faced with wealthy people. (It’s nothing they’ve ever said or done - it’s my own problem.) Although I know that most of the congregation won’t look down on me or say anything about it, I think I’ve been hiding out, more or less.

Pretty quickly after I started attending the church, I got plugged into the singles group, and that was great. Suddenly I had a group that I really enjoyed, a bunch of people who believed the same things I did, who could explain things that were confusing me, who could help me out when I needed them, and vice versa.

Then they started getting married to each other! It was weird - there were four marriages in a year out of the group. I got older, and the singles group got younger, and my married friends were all hanging out together, as happens when your life changes like that. By 2003 the group was pretty much disbanded, and the majority of my friends had moved due to job changes or finishing seminary.

In August, my Bible reading fell off to pretty much nothing. I had no friends left at church, really, and I was hiding from my shame (although I couldn’t admit it until … well, today).

There’ve been times when I could hear God calling my name, through an empty feeling in my chest that nothing could really feel. But could I bring myself to attend church again? No. Either Sunday morning service came too early, or I was just too busy to attend Sunday evening. I had an excuse for everything.

Stephen really doesn’t have much of an interest, I think. I’ve brought it all up several times and he seems little more than lukewarm. That reminds me of this:

“To the angel of the church in Laodicea write:
   These are the words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the ruler of God’s creation. I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm – neither hot nor cold – I am about to spit you out of my mouth. You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.”
Revelation 3:14-17

It’s frustrating. So here I sit, listening to Nichole Nordeman and Jars of Clay, trying to pick apart the reasons I’m not in fellowship with other Christians, and not liking what I’m finding. Regardless of Stephen’s lukewarm attitude, and regardless of my feelings, I know that God has forgiven me for my sins (including the premarital sex that created Ryan) and it’s past time to get back together with a church. My church, or another church. Somewhere. God saved me (saves me!) from the depths - from myself - and I miss him.

Asking for matches,
michelle