I feel compelled by the glass of wine I just sipped to be honest.
I'm lonely. Heart-rendingly, agonizingly lonely.
For many reasons. Obviously because I'm still single. But that's a complicated reason. It's not just, oh wahh, no one wants to date me. I've reached this point where a lot of what I do seems utterly pointless because I don't have anywhere to pour out love. For three years now I've shut off my capacity to love, crammed it back in on itself, because loving meant losing myself, and it wasn't healthy, and I've been afraid ever since of loving badly and of not being loved in return and of being horribly hurt because I throw too much of myself into a person or people.
But after three years, not loving anyone is empty. I can be the best person my position has ever seen at work; I can be witty and funny, sparkling, the life of every party (and my friends, that's not an exaggeration...MP and I are a study in being the life of the party); I can smile at everyone I see and genuinely wish them a good day...But without loving anyone or anything, it doesn't mean anything.
It's 1 Corinthians 13. I haven't been living it. And I'm tired, I'm tired of not living it.
So here I am, all ready to go, ready to love...and I have my family and closest friends, and it's great. But I don't have a significant male other, and I don't have a church.
Church on Sunday sucked. Again. I left feeling more desperately alone and in despair than when I walked in. Again. I can't do this anymore. It's coming to where I want to say that the contemporary church has nothing to say to me or my generation. Has nothing relevant to bring to our lives. And it's pathetic. It's wrong. I WANT to belong to a church; I've been wanting it badly for over a year. But of the three churches I've attended with any degree of regularity, none of them have contained people who exhibited genuine interest in getting to know me. At one, I was hit on by a certain Wretched Tim, and he was the only one who wanted to spend time with me (and you can bet it wasn't for my sparkling wit or big heart); at the second, I was held at a distance with false smiles; at the third and current, I'm basically ignored.
Why? Why? Two weeks ago as I was walking out, I shook the pastor's hand, as I have every week since I started attending regularly in November (well, I sort of skipped December, but November, January, and February were regular months), and he asked me if I was a visitor. And something in me mewled and died.
I can't do this anymore. I don't have to convince the grad students that I've met through MP that I'm worth hanging around. People who have met me in public three times say of me that I have a dynamic presence, that with MP I draw the energy in a room. I don't have to beg them to see that I'm likeable. What the hell is wrong with the church that I have to work harder than I worked even in high school to show people that I have value? People that I've met four, five, six times, and to whom I've been extremely nice and friendly, won't have anything to do with me.
I have to sit down and compose a thoughtful, careful, deliberate essay on why the church's ministry to Christians of my generation sucks. But for now, believe that I hate rolling out of bed on Sunday morning. I hate selecting the nicest, most flattering clothes in my wardrobe. I hate pasting on the nicest, most winning smile in my repertoire so that CHRISTIANS WHO ARE SUPPOSED TO MODEL THE UNCONDITIONAL LOVE OF CHRIST will be nice to me. And I hate doing all this knowing that it won't make a damn bit of difference. Maybe they'll smile and shake my hand, but they won't invite me to lunch. They won't ask for my e-mail or my number. (I had to do all that. Hey, here's my e-mail. Here's my number. Let me know if you're doing anything.)
And most of all, I hate that I can't be myself in church. I hate that I can't talk about my favorite beer or my favorite whisky, I hate that I can't say that my favorite poet is a lesbian, I hate that I can't say, You know that chastity thing? It really sucks sometimes, or that I miss belonging so much I cry myself to sleep sometimes. I hate that I can't say, The concept of "witnessing" is a fallacy. Witness is a state of being. You don't have to cut and paste the name "Jesus" into every other sentence; just be who you are--that's almost always enough.
I hate that I can't jump up and down and point to a verse (because in church one seldom studies the Bible) and say, You know what I love about this?! Look at God's concern for women! Look here!
I hate that I have to slough off everything that matters to me to say, monotonously, God...Jesus...the Bible. Have to spit out all the prefabricated answers they've had us say since Vacation Bible School when we were seven years old. Have to swallow all the doubts, all the questions, all the real, life-changing insights, to talk about utter crap like "courage."
Courage isn't talking to a "non-Christian"; courage is walking into church on Sunday morning. And there's something horribly wrong with that.
There's also something horribly wrong about me sitting here wanting to learn how to love, futilely.
I feel like William H. Macy's character in Magnolia: "I have so much love to give."
What do I do?
End whiny angry passionate blog. More about boring professional rational organized work in the future.
24 comments:
Well, I don't know what's wrong with the people at your church(es), but I would be interested in hearing about your favorite beer, whisky, and poet. And, to the degree that our situations are similar, I can sympathize with your frustrations of loneliness. I don't have any solutions for it, but I understand that it's painful.
You know what is more painful, I think, than pure, basic lonliness? The slow realization that a religious community that you were brought up to love and admire is no more than a hollow, waasted shell. I encountered the Exact Same Problem as you, but at Grove City, at a certain church that about half the population attended. I felt ignored, marginalized, and frozen. It took me two years to realize that I needn't feel guilty for feeling betrayed by the church. I'm still trying to get over the sense of loss.
So what do we do from here? To be honest, I'm not sure. Just know that you're not alone in your experience.
There are so many things in this post that I want to respond to that I don't even know where to start. Well, let me start with saying that I completely understand what you're feeling because that's where I am. I'm trying to focus on God, and not my loneliness, but I have definitely been experiencing intense loneliness lately. I can't give you any advice on how to make it feel less achey or awful, or how to quiet that fear that makes you want to hide from love, because I have that fear too. I just have to believe that God will allow me to share my life with someone when I'm ready for it, and that if I prayerfully seek His help, I'll know how to accept love when it does come to me. What else can we do besides trust Him in ALL things?
As for your disatisfaction with church, I understand that too. I've gone to the same church my whole life, and there are so many things that I don't like about it (mostly the lack of love, but also the fact that I can't fully express my ideas about living my life as a modern women while still maintaining a standard of holiness). I went to a new church when I moved for college, and suddenly I understood the way church is supposed to be: full of love. Although it was difficult for me as a single woman to really make friends there (there were really no young adults in the congregation), I was really astounded by how much everyone cared about me... invited me out, gave me rides, cooked me dinner, asked about my life. Trust me, there are churches out there who know how to show God's love. I'll be moving for grad school this summer and what I'm really hoping is to find a church where they teach what I believe, where I'm taught how to live holy, but also feel comfortable expressing myself as a feminist, as a scientist, and a young woman. I'm hoping for peers who I can grow with (I've never had a circle of Christian friends), and ideally a multicultural congregation, which, sadly, is so hard to find. You'd think churches would be as integrated as the rest of the world, but they really aren't. What I would suggest to you is the same thing I plan to do: keep visiting churches until you find the right one for you, and once you do find one, get involved in a ministry that will allow you to get to know people more closely. As a college student, my schedule didn't really accodomate the church's bible study or choir rehearsal, but I'd really like to make an effort to join something at my new church this year. I think it helps to feel like a real member.
Also, the witnessing by living thing: I'm totally there with you. I don't feel comfortable trying to convert people, but I do feel a burden for their souls, so I try to be Christ-like, and you'd be surprised at how many people ask me if we can talk about God. People recognize when you have joy and peace, and they'll often ask you what your secret is. Living by example is often more effective than putting someone on the defensive by forcing your ideas on them.
Sarah, your post literally brought me to tears. Why? Because I am another young woman who suffers from the same bout of loneliness and (God forbid) depression. My church is full of nice people. We go out for lunch on Sundays, but there's no one I feel particularly close to... not the way I'm used to being close to someone. I'm so eager and welcoming to new people and I I've started working with the high school youth group and that has been really wonderful. It's wonderful to know I'm helping to influence young people in a positive way. And guess what? This past weekend I invited a bunch of them over... and THEY actually showed up.
A few months back I invited about 100 people to a mocktail party at my house. Sent out cute e-vites (two weeks in advance, with a reminder sent out two days before the party), spent A LOT of money, and really wanted a fun evening for everyone. FOUR people showed up (including my roommate)and they were all women. Since then, I've kept my distance from many of my "church friends." I doubt our friendships, and can't bring myself to really open up anymore. Needless to say, the church body is lacking the hospitality and social aspect. Of course, it also lacks ways to make single people a part of the many "family events." Not that we should go off and form singles congregations, but we need to feel love too.
Sarah, I can relate to so much of what you are saying. I've been lonely for so long that I yearn for any kind of human contact. For years I've deluding myself into the belief that, because I am shy, I'm an introvert. But it's not true. I'm the deadly combination of being shy and and an extrovert I'm also fiercely individualistic. As you can imagine, this combination of qualities doesn't exactly lend itself to dating well. I don't think I've even been on a been on a date in three years, let alone a relatively successful one. I have so much trouble meeting anybody, let alone someone that shares my interests and beliefs. Everyday at work I eat lunch with old ladies and there is no one here I can relate to. And meeting someone at church as been futile at best.
I spend a lot of time thinking about this. I think your point about the church ties into this. I don't necessarily think that the church can't minister to people of our generation. I think that mainstream Christianity in these times doesn't know how to handle individualism well. If you don't fit into a certain behavioral pattern that you'll have a hard time fitting in. Christianity has turned into the Jesus Fan Club and if you don't wear that phony membership card smile you don't belong.
I haven't gone to church in 3 or 4 months. Every time I go I just see a beautiful faith being sanitized with platitudes, poorly written praise songs or a saccharine sermon. I find the demand to constantly be pleasant overwhelming.
I don't think all churches are like this or all Christians are like this, but I'm starting to feel like people who are believers but are also real, genuine people with real thoughts are few and far between. I think people like this stopped going to church a long time ago. Also churches don't know how to handle single people that well.
I have planty of friends that I've met through church and our differences in belief and personal interests are fine because we are friends, but I keep thinking that the only way I could have a significant dating relationship with some people is to compromise some of my individualism.
So I keep asking myself, "is my indvidualism worth all of this loneliness?" I hope my answer is always yes.
You're not alone in your feeelings.
Y'all are awesome. I've been saying to Sarah, repeatedly, "It isn't us. It can't be just us." Because I've gotten the feeling from many Grovers and Grover-types that they, too, feel like two-dimensional people when they walk through the door of a church. In my church (I love the preaching, I love the praise, I love the adults/families. I just have a problem with the people MY age) I have actually been trying to converse with people when they have walked away from me. I've been floored and astonished by the rudeness among the young adults--the fakey smiles and the faux-concern. "So, how are you doing this week?" But they don't even have the attention to listen to my answer. They're already looking over my head for who they will talk to next. Ouch.
Evan, like you, I am fiercely individualistic, but not at all shy. I want people around, but I do not need them. I go to movies alone, to Barnes and Noble alone, drive everywhere alone, I even go to the ladies' room alone. It's astonishing.
I cannot do the fake thing anymore. I finally gave up when I got the announcement of the girls' small group: "We aren't going to do any specific Bible Study. Instead, we want this to be a space where we can be real with one another. So, we're calling it 'Real."'
Excuse me, I really wanted to study the Real Bible. It's why I'm here. I never knew I needed to schedule time in to be "real" with my fellow Christians....
So, I teach the Missionnettes. Those are some real girls. Really encouraging, really interested, really in need of a grown-up girl role model. And by teaching them, I feel called to lead a better life. They are my accountability partners, and they don't even know it.
I in no way meant to denigrate all churches. There is a great church here in Pittsburgh that I love going to for the sermons and the music. It is one of the best churches I've ever attended in my life and I'd probably go to more often if I didn't involve getting up to get ready to drive 20 minutes to go there alone every Sunday.
Since my tastes in movies and muisc are so different from most people I know I decided a long time ago that if I didn't go to movies or concerts by myself I wouldn't go at all. I probably need to extend this policy to church as well. For some reason that leap is harder to make with church. Probably because it is a place that is supposed to be open and welcoming and most times I just end up going, enjoying the service and then leaving without being spoken to once.
Marianne, don't even get me started on my small group. I'm going through the motions big time with mine. If I wasn't planning on leaving Pittsburgh in a few months I think I might have already severed ties by now.
Whew. It hurts to say it, doesn't it? But it's true. The church doesn't care; the church has no use for us.
How much longer can I bear to attend with (and pardon the cheesy metaphor) hands outstretched, only to have them slapped away every time?
Well-meaning people of our parents' generation subscribe this loneliness, frustration, and sense of abandonment to our not trying hard enough, not attending regularly enough, not getting involved enough. But I think that's as much a fallacy as the stupid evangeverb "to witness."
Again, I would like to stress that people I've met two, three, or four times through grad school functions REARRANGE THEIR SCHEDULES to hang out with MP and me, when I've done nothing but laugh and be myself, without consciously considering what other people think. (Example: One funny gentleman with a penchant for arriving late realized that he was missing us every week at the Club 23 gatherings because we showed up on time and left early. He has begun showing up on time more regularly than not.) Conversely, church people I go out of my way to approach with friendliness the five, six, seven times I've seen them give me a big, fake, toothpaste-ad smile and walk away from me as soon as possible. I have handed them my contact information. I have asked them to call me when they do things. They never do.
And it's incredibly, utterly stupid. People of our intelligence, accomplishment, education, passion, idealism and integrity are being let go to complete waste by a church that is in desperate, desperate need of what we can bring to it. Because the church is losing touch with the world, as the world become comprised primarily of people our age. We live in the world. We know how it works. We know how to love people.
And that's the most ridiculous thing of all -- the church doesn't know how to love people under 30. It doesn't even know how to love its own people under 30. How can it expect to impact the world with love, hope, and goodness if it doesn't know how to love the people that belong to it to begin with -- the people who could tell it how to love this generation?
The bride of Christ is crippled. We could be its hands and feet, in the present-day era. But the thing that renders us useless in the church is that 1.) we're young and 2.) we love. We love! The people who are experiencing this heartbreaking dissociation from God's church are the people who have greater capacity to love than any other group I've ever met. Matt, Lindsay, Jenn, Evan, Marianne, Dan, The Science Girl (I don't know you, but I can tell that I like you a lot), Trey, Gare, ALL the people I loved fiercely at Grove City and the people I've kept in contact with from home -- you know how to love. You know how it works. You know how to let people belong, and how to let them be who they are, and you know that above all else this pure, gentle acceptance without agenda is what keeps people going and keeps people strong. And that's what keeps us from fitting in with the church.
It makes me absolutely crazy. Because we have SO MUCH TO OFFER. And the church doesn't give a damn. The church wants to harness our energy, passion, enthusiasm, insight, shrewdness, and love to plow the same old ruts in a fallow field. When we know, WE KNOW, that the unbroken soil RIGHT OVER THERE is richer than anything history has ever seen. But the church just wants to say, "Giddup, old mare" and keep us where it's used to having people stay.
I could scream. I could scream.
But I've come to the same conclusion as Marianne. I'm done with playing the game where I strip myself of myself to try to appeal to these cardboard cut-outs of real people living real life. I'm real. If they don't want to be real (and not in that nauseating "Let's be real with one another" CRAP propogated by the sheltered fakey church people that Marianne mentioned), that's their problem. I'm done with being fake.
So I'm going to TRY to go to church and be myself. Going to try not to be afraid to be a postmodern Christian woman in a postmodern era. Where I can drink beer and whisky, read lesbian poets, talk about women's issues, social issues, RELEVANT ISSUES, and love people in a healthy, deep, normal way. Where the only time I ask someone if they're "toeing the line" is if I know them well, and have the right to ask, and ask because I really care.
I don't know if that's going to work. But if it doesn't work, I'm not settling for a cardboard cut-out Christian church life. I won't do it. Does that mean walking away from the church altogether? I hope not. But I don't know.
It breaks my heart that some of the most beautiful, amazing people I know have given up -- and it breaks my heart even more that giving up was the only logical option.
(Can't we, can't we start a Grover commune somewhere in Montana, if we're all lonely, fragmented, and without a community in about ten years?)
Church: Get it together. You're losing, and have lost, unspeakably precious human beings who could have been your greatest assets. But you don't care.
Start caring, damnit! Because some of us may have already walked away for good, and some of us are heading in that direction, but we still care.
If this fails completely, I don't think I'll ever get over the sense of loss. I'll still believe. I'll still have faith. But I'll be going it alone, and that's not the way it's supposed to be.
The bride of Christ is walking around without hands and feet, or at least fingers and toes, while we, the peole of Generation Y, scrabble around like a bunch of Addams Family Things. Grotesque? Yes. Funny? Only in a sick, sad way.
But I'm so glad, my friends, so glad to know that I'm not alone. Now if only the church would pick up its head, and listen.
I vote a hearty 'yes' to the Disheartened Grover Commune!
Ok, ok, I hate to rain on your blessed commune, but as the lone--for lack of a better word--"devil's" advocate of the group, don't you think y'all are being a bit harsh? Everyone here seems to agree that the "church" has failed them -- as if it can be dissected apart somehow from faith itself. Seriously, though, who IS the church? Is it really the pastor, or the pews, or the pulpit? Is it just "those people" showing up ever who never seem to give a damn? Or, isn't is faulty to think of church as wholly other? When it comes right down to it, is the church not THEM but US? With so much consensus about the mean people who show up for service but not much else, have you ever thought that perhaps other people in your church feel the very same way? It's not all Colgate and cream. Maybe we've become so caught up in the narrow idea that church is someplace that you go to and get from, that we've forgotten that it is rather something far more significant--it is everyone with whom you can serve and share a life of faith together.
That said, I confess that I have had my share of disillusionment with the traditional concept of a "church." In fact, I stopped attending for almost a decade. The first Sunday I attempted to go again in college (at a place I have since affectionately dubbed, "Fags Can't Come" after its initials of the same), the pastor gave the old hellfire-and-brimstone line about homosexuality (apparently related, it seems, to the attacks of 9/11). Um, maybe not the best way to kick things off with this newcomer. It was when I moved to Ohio that I discovered what “church” looks like: an old basketball court in a city building full of real people – people who strugged with loneliness and pain and betrayal, and people who shared my my dreams and hopes and interests. It is diverse, too, racially, economically, geographically: 30% white; 30% chinese; 20% SE Asian; 10% Black; 10% Hispanic & Pacific Islander. With those kind of demographics, getting to know each other takes special care – but there is so much love and freedom to be honest about yourself that I’ve grown to call this my home now. I’m no goody-two-shoes Christian to be sure – far from it! (You wouldn’t believe the trouble I’ve gotten myself into these days…) – but my experience lately has really changed my heart about what a church can be. Maybe in the end, that’s what we all want. I just pray that you don’t lose hope in “church” Just yet or write it off in some sweeping rejection. Line-item veto it, if you will. But don’t tell me that it that it doesn’t matter or doesn’t exist except for the white-washed few. Just look at me. I don’t just talk about lesbian poets: I am one :-P! (Or so some would say . . . )
See, Joey, here's the thing: We're not being too harsh.
I've visited probably 20 churches in the past 18 months, and they have all sucked.
It's ridiculous that a good church, the kind of church that really exists in bodily community, is a rare find (sounds like you've found one of the rare ones). Truly ridiculous.
So, no, we're not being too harsh. The sweeping experience I've described falls sweepingly true to the overall churches of my experience; hence, to the church overall.
And I don't know about the fakey people feeling lonely. Perhaps they are, but if no one's honest about it, how can it change?
Which is why I've decided to stop acting with the fake. We'll see if that opens up any doors, but really, Joey, the church -- the overall, contemporary, evangelical, Protestant American church -- is severely lacking in its ministry to our generation.
I could give to all these places. But I really should get something too. That's what being part of a body means, and that's community -- give and take. And frankly I'm tired of people calling me selfish for wanting some sense of being loved and cared about in church before I go all gung-ho and give the place/the pastor/the building/the people my all. Jesus said, "By this shall all men know that you are my disciples, that you have love one for another." Do we see that? Rarely. And when I come into a church as a stranger, it's the responsibility of the church congregation to communicate to me that love. It's not up to me to show the whole church that I love them. That must come later.
And it's not up to me as the newcomer to convince people to accept me; the acceptance should be immediate, the concern should be real, and offers of friendship genuine. I'm not saying I'll like everyone in the church I find one day (if ever); but I should be able to identify right off the bat at least one or two people that I could see having as friends.
No, the track record of the Protestant evangelical church is pretty crappy, and the good ones seem to be the exceptions that prove the rule. Because when I hear someone say, "I've found a great church," my reaction is, "Really? Wow!" -- more like I'd react to hearing someone say they saw a unicorn in their backyard than hearing someone say the sunrise was beautiful. A good church should be an everyday thing, not cause for a mythic sense of wonder.
Something's gotta give. Because this is totally unacceptable. And the church is dying because of it. Yes; I'll say dying. Because, those dynamic pockets of real Christianity aside, the overall church as I've seen it and heard it described is steeped in fakery, shallowness, and unconcern.
(This has nothing to do with you, Mom. You live it. But the First Baptist Church as a whole has little to give to people my age, and it's been that way since I was a teenager. I'll bet you could ask anyone my age there who is honest, who isn't a sheltered church person, and they'll tell you, at the very least, that it's a hard place to feel at home.)
It hurts, and if I'm supposed to be one of the criers lifting up my voice in the congretation calling for change, so be it. Because this sucks. And I don't accept it. It shouldn't be this way.
But what are we supposed to do?
20 churches in 18 months ... you aren't kidding, Sarah. Your frustration is palpaple. I'm so sorry it's been that way for you. For all my bluster, it's taken me a decade to find a church where I feel like I belong. You're totally right -- it shouldn't be that hard. I admire you for making such an effort and hope in time those Sunday-morning walls will crumble and reveal a true community that's been waiting--nay, dying--to emerge. But for any church that still plays pretend and so saps the life and joy of all its members, your indictment stands. No joke.
And please, if you ever find the First Church of Liquor, Lesbos, and Just Plain Lovin' (in a word) in South Bend, IN, let me know and I'll be THERE! Good luck, Sarah, and keep the faith! We're all behind you.
Okay, my rigorous sense of honesty compels me to say that it might not have been 20 churches in 18 months. But it's been 10-15, and definitely 20 over the past four years.
Church-hopping is only fun for awhile. But after a certain period of time it feels horribly uncomfortable. Here I go, again, dressed in my best, again, and I'll leave feeling lonely, again. It's how I imagine it would be to be the new kid in school (which I never was) about every other month. There's only so much fortitude and courage a person has before you feel like you're slicking on your lipstick for another blind date. It feels cheap -- it highlights my sense of aloneness. It makes me tired. It drains me. I mean, I have to have my perkiest, happiest, friendliest face on all the time. I can't ever relax and be me -- the witty, effusive, passionate me with a strong undercurrent of sarcasm. Nope, I have to be Barbie-cheerful. And it just wears me out.
I'm so glad you've found a church, Joey. And I hope it doesn't take me and the rest of us who are searching ten years to find a good place.
AHHH wow, so much commenting, my eyes hurt. I just kinda want to echo joey for a sec, there's no "us" and "them", we're all in this together. The church has "failed our generation" much the same way "our generation" has failed the church. hmm ... too many quotation marks in unparalell places. eh? what the hell. I'm a leader at a christian camp, I teach bible study, I give sermons, I lead small groups.
But at school, GC of all places, I stopped going to church, drink and smoke too much, swear worse then a sailor, and I'm an avid pornographer (don't be too shocked, I tell anyone who will listen these days)
Do I feel abandoned by the church? by other believers? yes. Why isn't anyone taking a personal interest in my spiritual growth? Who wants to mentor me? I've mentored like, five people in the past five years, now it's my turn, some one love me.
But have I also failed the church? absolutely. If we look inside our selves, memebers of the church invisible, we see people who have whored out the bride of Christ to any number things.
The same Grace and love we want from the church, is the same grace and love we need to keep giving. God doesn't look on us and say ... well, I'm tired of this brat not following my moral law, my commands, my suggestions even, I'm going to stop loving him.
In the same way, we can't stop loving the hypocritical, fallen, rude, mean, broken Christians.
That's the thing about grace, it's getting what we don't deserve. That's teh thing about giving grace, no one deserves it.
::puts soap box away::
PS SBP, marry me. I mean it. If you say yes then I'll come out to South Bend right now and we'll drive to vegas and get hitched. I'm serious. I'm in love with you. Or at least the you on your blog. I think.
PPS, the security word I have to type is , and I think that's funny.
I spent a lot of today driving by myself, so I had a lot of time to think about this. I argued with myself about this very issue that has been brought up about whether it is something wrong with the church or something wrong with our generation. (One of the side effects of living alone is that you get very good at carrying on both sides of an argument.) And as the two sides battled back in forth in my head, I started to think about my own church. I still go to the same church I've gone to all my life, at least when I'm in town. I feel accepted there, but I think it may be largely due to the fact that I grew up in it. I've had friends say to me, "I think I'd like to go to your church. What kind of groups or ministries are there for people our age?" And I have to answer that there simply aren't any. That's no form of acceptance.
This isn't to say that I demand that my church tailor special groups just for my needs. But it would be nice. And I know what would happen if I were to suggest it: I would be asked to lead such a group, to spearhead such an initiative, to, for all intents and purposes, do it myself. And I'm not in a position to do that right now. When people like me, who are already (semi-) active members of a church aren't willing or able to reach out to others, that's going to have the effect that we all seem to be seeing: people new to the church aren't going to feel wanted or welcome.
So I see both sides of this. I know it's a give and take. I know church isn't simply about showing up at a building and getting a dose of good feelings. To be an active member of a church means to contribute as well. But that burden shouldn't be placed on visitors. That burden shouldn't be placed on people who are only thinking about coming. And it shouldn't be placed on those who have no intention of setting foot in a church to begin with. The church needs to reach out to people. I totally agree with what Sarah said originally about "witnessing," but there still needs to be outreach. The church needs to let people know, "Hey, you will be loved here!" And then when people come, the church needs to actually follow through and love them. Until both of those things happen, the frustration and unhappiness we are seeing here will just increase.
Absolutely "Amen!" Matt.
After conversing about this with my mother, I think I'm going to adopt a much more strategic policy: I'm going to start interviewing churches. I'll look online or in the yellow pages, call up a church, and ask whoever answers the phone at least two fundamental questions: 1.) How large is your congregation? and 2.) Do you have any ministries or groups for singles?
I think I need to find a smaller church. Not teeny-tiny, but maybe 100-200 people. Because when a church is too big AND has ineffective outreach to our age group (and let's face it, our age group has a totally different approach to the faith, which is partly due to the nature of our generation, and it isn't a bad thing in any way; but it's different from the approach of the people who created the churches we grew up in. Our experience of Christianity, for those of us born and raised in the evangelical churches founded by our parents, is completely different from the experience our parents had), it's easy to slip through the cracks.
And you're right, Matt; the burden shouldn't be on visitors. I think I'm going to have to come up with a battle plan and find a church that already has what I'm looking for, but not go willy-nilly about it, because otherwise I won't go at all.
The frustrating thing is that finding a church is going to be a lot like an extension of my job -- doing research, making contacts, asking questions. But what else can I do?
And I don't have terribly much that I can contribute to a church at the moment; it's going to take me about a year to settle into my new job, and in the meantime I have very little time and energy to spend at church. And I don't have one particular ministry burning in my heart; what I really want to do is connect with people my age, be friends with them, and grow together. And that can only happen in a church that already has an effective means of reaching and utilizing the singles in its midst.
Because this singleness thing is a new phenomenon in the church, and the church doesn't quite know how to deal with it yet. For centuries, the focus of the church universal has been on family -- grow up, get married, have kids, badda-bing badda-boom, you're part of the church, whatever age you are (because the young marrieds in the church almost always seem to have each other. Marrieds, please correct me if I'm wrong). My church right now is doing an entire sermon series on childrearing, which you can bet makes me feel pretty useless. Sure, I can file these tidbits away "for future reference," but it emphasizes to me that my situation, which I have not chosen, puts me outside the bounds of normative Christianity.
But not outside the bounds of the trends of normative society -- the average marriage age is steadily increasing, and the church needs to catch up with the fact that more than half its young people under thirty are unmarried. This isn't just a worldly fashion; it's life. And these people need to be incorporated into body life. Because it's a unique situation in church history. We're not just clamoring for attention; we're looking for effective places to plug in where we, in our unique situations, can still be of use. So much of church ministry is geared toward family, and family is great; but the church ministries need to grow to continue to be relevant to the people of our society.
And singleness is certainly not outside the bounds of the faith itself. How many times did Paul wish people would remain unmarried, to be more fully dedicated to Christ? He didn't put singleness in value over marriage, but he also didn't put marriage in value over singleness. The church has been family focused for so long that it seems to have forgotten, or swept under the rug, the value of singleness, and lacks ways to make singles understand that they are uniquely useful, valued, and cherished -- certainly by God, and ideally also by the church.
And it's not like the singles in the church are planning to be lifetime celibates; this is a season, and because it's a season, the church needs to look into ways to create a strong community for the people growing in it, to make use (and I mean "use" in the most positive sense of the word) of them while they're single, so that when they marry, they can easily step into more family focused things with a greater awareness of what it's like to be single. And in this way the church can be one.
But I the visitor cannot do this. Maybe one of these days I can; but for right now, I just need a community. So I'm praying to find church that's already on the ball, and I'm going to do that shrewdly. Because walking blindly into a new church every week just plain old sucks.
Go Here!
Vineyard Community Church
1006 South Merrifield Ave. • Mishawaka, Indiana 46544
(574) 257-1924
Meeting Sunday Mornings
9:00 am & 10:30 am
If you're willing to really experience Jesus' love that can transform your life. Get real with this pastor. They want real people like you!
Hey, anonymous ... the church I go to is a Vineyard as well. Go figure! Sarah, you should definitely check it out :-)
Word up,
I think that Christian communities can sadly be among the most judgemental and unwelcoming and this seems to be built into the structure. It's not Christ's teaching, but it is how people work. So often, in church, we don't like to see other people with more confidence than us, we're unsettled if they exude more sexuality than us (lots/any) and we are troubled if they jeopardise our collective faith in what is the right way to live. Part of being one holy catholic and apostolic Church is feeling this need to keep our eye on where everyone else is at.
You seem to have said most of this yourself in your post at the end of Jan ("the truth will set you free").
Who can accept the totality of who we are? Who can show us and reassure us that we are in a community where we belong and we are accepted and where there is a place for us? Who can take tomorrow, dip it in a dream, separate the sorrow and collect up all the cream? Probably not a confectioner. But you know you have excellent friends. I trust you are feeling happier in yourself now and know that you are very much valued around here. Sorry for when I've undermined your confidence and been generally very manly without being gentlemanly. I hope you find the church life you need. Failing that or in addition to it, I hope you feel supported and welcome here. You know in what spirit this is meant. With kind regards,
Douglas
PS let me know if you need me to depart your blog - word is bond. You've opted for a kind of anonymity - hence my caution.
Douglas --
Thanks for your fantastic comment.
Yes: Things are looking up lately. This has a potentially large something to do with church, a large something to do with grad community socialization, and a large something to do with work.
Oh, and prayer. A huge something to do with prayer, which I have hardly participated in for the past three years.
Meanwhile, I do remember that you accompanied me to my car outside the skeezy Club 23 a week or so ago, and while I was not in doubt of my ability to walk to my own vehicle, I appreciated the company, as I tend always to be aware of possibilities, however improbable, particularly outside skeezy clubs, where probabilities increase. So that was a much-appreciated gentlemanly gesture.
I'm extremely thankful for everyone in the graduate school community -- it's among people such as yourself, Joan, David, Peter, Glenn and my fellow working person Laura (Marianne not being first on the list because she precedes "the grad school crowd"; we knew each other as hyperintensive, spastic college freshmen) that I am usually reminded that I'm not losing my sanity, that I do in some sense belong. Where else can we be ridiculous, hold thought-provoking conversations about culture, mores, ethics, and faith, yell "Bullshit!!" till our throats hurt, and toss in lines from musicals starring Gene Wilder?
I don't know. But I love it.
So while my confidence is fairly resilient, it's good to be assured of welcome, especially when plenty other facets of life (church, friends at work) are so uncertain.
And as for church: I'm of two minds. I still feel strongly that it's failing to connect with our generation. I want that to change. I also want to belong to a church now. If this means rolling up my sleeves at some point and trying to bring about the change I hope to see (which it might sensibly or conceivably come to; I can't expect something to happen Mary Poppins style, just because I want it to), or standing in the middle of a sanctuary and yelling to jumpstart the process, fine. I also don't want to be an arrogant brat -- so it's a delicate balance of demanding and working for change and accepting parts of the present reality.
But regardless, as you said, there are still friends. And my friends are incredible.
P.S. My sort of anonymity stems mostly from my profession -- I don't want to be terribly easy for employers to find; who knows what beans I'd spill and jobs I'd lose -- and also from a cop's daughter's desire to remain vaguely unfindable --I don't want creepy people to find out all about my life after hearing my name once. Certainly improbable, I know, but not impossible.
So no, I don't need you to leave my blog. (No "out, damned Douglas!" for you.) As you can see, most of those who comment here are in fact friends and acquaintances. So you're more than welcome.
Oh good, thanks.
Yes, that makes sense.
Today I got an email from someone called "Julian of Norwich" saying that everything's going to be fine. I invited her to Gmail.
I am single as well, and I go to a rather "impersonal" church, typically people don't "hang around" after services, they quickly RUSH home as soon as the services are over with, there are very little workshops or seminars, if there are "seminars" it's geared towards the less social aspect of it.
- Tony
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