This is something I’ve been thinking about for a while.
Years ago, I overheard a conversation in which one church member was discussing another. The woman under discussion was in the process of divorce and had kind of drifted away from her church “friends” in favor of people outside our Christian community. “Why” the originator of the conversation wondered. “Wouldn’t she want to go to fellow Christians for advice?”
I wasn’t part of the conversation and wouldn’t have had an answer if I was. That is, I wouldn’t have had an answer then, but I think I do now.
See, since childhood, I’ve been the posessor of a black hole of…need. To put it bluntly, I’m caught somewhere between so shy I make Rapunzel in her tower look sociable and…well, an attention whore. I say things people don’t understand. I act out. I sing and pout and whine and cry. And if that black whole isn’t filled, I act in silly, shameful and, yes, frankly sinful ways.
And during those times, I often don’t talk to fellow church members either. But it wasn’t until I overheard the conversation mentioned above that I began thinking about the “Why?”  I am, after all, a Christian. I have been since I was five. I can quote you all the “required” Bible verses, sing you at least the first lines of many classic hymns and teach little kids “Jesus Loves Me” in sign language (at least the chorus). I’m so far into the church culture that most of the surrounding world would have a hard time separating me from it.
Yet, with few exceptions, the people I consider my best friends don’t do the “Sunday Morning, Sunday Night, Wednesday Prayer Meeting” thing. They have Bibles but may go days without reading them. They believe in God, but don’t always talk to Him. And I am so much more comfortable getting personal with them than I am the people I’ve sat in the pew with for over a decade now.
So, as I began to think about the why of it all, it hit me. Non Christians are more likely to admit that they are sinners than Church People are. Therefore, they are more comfortable with my faults, failings and confessions than the worship crowd is. Whether my fellow church members know I am a minister’s child or not, they know me as a Sunday School teacher, a choir member and/or Kenny’s wife. With that comes an expectation of behavior. All day, all the time behavior. When I was living at home, I had a friend tell me that she was shocked to find out that I got into fights with my parents. She didn’t know ministers’ families acted so…real.
Well we do, and I do. And Church People have a hard time seeing that.Â
Once, when I was expressing disapproval over something I had seen on television, someone told me “Stephanie, you can’t expect Non Christians to act like Christians.” I thought about that and I wonder: Are the expectations of Church People too high? Do we put so much pressure on CHRISTIANS to act like Christians that we are, in effect, shutting people down, clamming people up and driving people away? Like I said, my friends, the ones I’m comfortable opening up to, aren’t shocked if I say “damn” or “hell” or wonder what some kind of drink tastes like or expound upon my never ending Johnny Depp crush. They don’t hit me with a Bible verse if I say “I think I’m in trouble” or “I don’t have anyone to tell this to.” They’ve been there. They have been broken. They know that they are sinners too and no amount of shock or distain or judgement is going to take that stain away.
See, I think that Church People (me included) take the whole “ambassadors of Christ” thing too far. Advice giving is great, but what hurting people want is someone to listen, someone to care. Witnessing can be an ego boost. So can the number of baptisms a church sees in a year or a sucessful Sunday School attendance. However, when you’re like me and the clouds are circling and there isn’t anyone to turn to and all you get is Romans, Romans, Romans, you don’t care about numbers or FAITH plans or any other cutsy little marketing tool that Church People have been so trained in that they can’t deviate from the script. You care about real. You care about really real. You care about someone who says “I’ve been there” and who isn’t just saying that to elicit some kind of made up intimacy. You care about someone who really HAS.
But church, outside of high school, may be the most clique filled place on earth. It’s a curse and a trap and before you know it, you’re in a role and the only way to survive is to push the hurt, the pain, the “I’m falling into sin here” down and to play that role for dear life. The problem with a role, though, is that it doesn’t allow for deviation. My role is two fold. I’m the crazy not quite grown up girl who says things that make sense to -her- but leaves everyone else scratching their heads on the one hand and the happy to be with the little kids classes teacher on the other.
And you know what? I AM happy to be with the little kids classes. They aren’t Church People yet. If they are sad, they tell you. If they are sorry, they apologize and no amount of coaxing is going to make them say “Sorry” if they don’t really mean it. And you know what? They love Jesus. They love Jesus and they haven’t got any veils or mists or clouds yet to obscure the Gospel. To them, it’s just love, no matter if they deserve it or not. No matter if they threw tantrums or spilled glue or cut their neighbor’s paper, they know they are loved.
I wish that my friends and I could find that kind of love amongst the Church People, but I’m afraid we can’t. Not yet anyway. That’s okay though. I’ll hang on with the children and the “sinners” and somewhere between the “I’ve been there’s” and the “Jesus Loves the Little Children’s”, I’m sure to find what I’ve been looking for. And there will be no Church People allowed.