Losing a Loved One

She once was home, a place I visited weekly to grow and create some of the best memories I have. She was full of love, happiness and laughter. She was beautiful, inside and out, always manicured, always pure. Her steeple stood tall, as a beacon for all who fell to sin. Her name was spoken with pride, to which others nodded in fondness. Her brick walls stood as firm as her inhabitants' faith; never wavering, always growing. She echoed songs sung to the Heavens, and sermons spoken with such fervor and truth. That has long since past, and she has grown cold and harsh. Her arms no longer outstretch to visitors, her name now often followed by a shaking of the head or rolling eyes. Her insides have grown judgmental and cruel. Her traditions wear her out, making her uninviting to those around. She is my church and She is dying.

I came to a harsh realization last night. I attend a dying church. A church filled with politics and traditions, when it should be filled with mercy, love and Christian truth. I attend a church where you are expected to volunteer for everything until you are approximately 45 years old, then you are allowed to sit on the pew for the rest of your life. Not just any pew, however. Your pew. The same pew you and your family have warmed for the last 50 years.  But be wary, you must only volunteer for something that has been done before. Do not, by any means, introduce a new idea. And, if anything, please, please do not suggest that we end any outstanding traditions. Because, after all, if we've done it for the past 100 years, it must be right.....right?

I am angry, frustrated, embarrassed but above all, discouraged. I am burning out and that is a tough
feeling. I feel my faith shriveling, like a big, juicy grape to a small raisin. It is not easy for me to wake up and go to church on Sundays. Not because I want to sleep longer, but because I know that when I get to church it will be exactly the same as the past 20 years. People will come, people will sit, people will leave. There is no urgency there. There is no fire. There is no passion for what we, as Christians, are called to do. As a result, I have been left with the following question:

How long do I sacrifice spiritual growth to honor loyalty?

Yes, I could leave. I could wake up on Sunday Morning and go to another church. I've actually tried, already. But the whole time all I could think of was my home church. Of how there is this beautiful sanctuary, begging to be filled by new faces. Maybe it's because I am a fixer. I fix things and I organize things. And I truly believe that things can be made right. I just wish there were more than a few of us who felt this way. I'm not naïve enough to think that a church shouldn't have any problems. Where there is more than 1 person, there will be disagreements. But a church shouldn't have these problems.