Church Hurts

So there are some things I really enjoy about visiting churches. It's nice to hear a variety of sermons and to just be able to listen without having to worry about audio/visual equipment. I like seeing different ways that different groups do certain things. I love learning new songs of praise. Most of all I love, love, LOVE being able to sit in a room full of peope I don't know and feel a common bond with them--we all share a deep love for Jesus!

But I miss the sense of community. I used to have one--a community, I mean. We were very close-knit, and very intune with one anothers' lives. Now I slip in and out of a pew, my presence barely noticed, in a building where no one knows my name.

And there's the pain. Experiencing the death of our community was one of the most painful experiences in my life. I trust that time will soothe my wounds and dry my tears, but right now the pain is still very fresh. I am so thankful that God poured his grace into my heart in a very real way, freeing me from the bonds of bitterness and resentment. That grace has made it possible for the healing process to begin. Even without the anger, though, it still hurts.

Every church I visit serves as a poignant reminder of what we once shared together. A passage of scripture is read and I think about something that someone once shared during our Communion service at Cascade. Someone thanks God for the nursery workers and I relive moments spent soaking up the love of adults who cared for me in Cascade's nursery when I was a little girl. We sing a song and I remember the joy I experienced leading the congregation in worship of our amazing Creator. It makes me sad to think that I may not get the opportunity to serve in that way in the future. I miss ministry. Since Cascade was so small, I had many chances to serve in various capacities that will not be available to me in a larger church where there is more talent to choose from. Since for years I felt that God wanted me at Cascade to serve, challenge and encourage the body of Christ there, I left much of my sense of purpose behind when I left Cascade (not that I no longer have purpose , but that I'm disoriented and unsure of how God wants to use me now).

Thankfully, the busyness of the week usually takes my mind away from what I've lost, but there's no escape from it on Sundays.

This Sunday at Hinson Church we were singing "Blessed Be Your Name" by Matt & Beth Redman. Not only did this flood my mind with memories of playing the song with the worship team at Cascade, but the words resonate with my heart as well. The second verse says:

Blessed be your name when the sun's shining down on me
When the world's all as it should be, blessed be your name
And blessed be your name on the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering, blessed be your name.

As I sang those last two lines, tears began to stream down my cheeks. These past months have been difficult, and yet as I've sought comfort from God I have come to know him in a different way, giving me yet more reasons to trust him and to praise him. Although there's pain involved, I know that without the pain I wouldn't be seeking him in the same way, and so I'm thankful for it. Just like a sliver in my nephew's hand sends him running to someone to take it out, so my pain sends me running to the arms of my Father in heaven for comfort. And as many of you who have walked through much deeper valleys than I have experienced know, the arms of the Father are a good place to be.

You give and take away
You give and take away
Still my heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be your name