My church wasn't a bad place. It was just a bad place for me. For many reasons and I take my share of the responsibility, I felt lonely. I felt the kind of lonely that had me in tears every Sunday before getting to church and after leaving it.
It hurt. Lots. It got so bad that I felt the pain of it starting Friday and lasting until Wednesday. You might think I'm exaggerating. I'm not - it was that intense. You might think I'm being dramatic - you're probably right. I come from a culture that is dramatic - they feel intensely and are very vocal about it. I inherited the intensity, I'm just not vocal.
I love community. I love sharing life with people and being involved in theirs. I love knowing and being known. I am loyal. I don't give up easily on people. Every time I saw someone leave my church - I hurt for them. It felt like a tearing apart and it broke my heart. Even those I didn't know personally.
And, now it is my turn and I hate it. I spent five weeks not going to church at all because it hurt so much and felt so lonely. Then God insisted. I spent the last two Sundays forcing myself to go to a different church, just to go. Still hating it. I told God that I was happy with just Him and I on Sunday mornings, listening to an online broadcast from IHOP church. But, He wanted me to go to a church here. Still hating every minute of it.
I truly wish I didn't have to leave my church. But, my last Sunday there utterly crushed me. There must be a church family out there where I won't feel so lonely, where I can connect with people, where I can give of myself, where people will notice quiet little me who has so much to offer but doesn't know how to do it, where I'll have somewhere to go for Easter and Christmas and won't have to spend them alone. I guess that is the hope to contrast against hating every minute of this process.
