Two months ago I started attending a church… after around 5-6 years of swearing I was done, and after one infamously sarcastic Google search for what I thought was the impossible… a church that accepted even doubters and unbelievers.
For two months I’ve watched people in this church – leaders and laity – being authentic, accepting and loving. They’ve invited me to sit with them and welcomed me to their classes, groups, and discussions. They’ve never once pressured me for information about myself or pushed for any commitment from me. They’ve listened, they’ve shared, and they’ve loved.
When I first started going, I’d physically shake and my blood pressure would go hypertensive, which is very unusual for me. But I was actually IN a church building, and that was a terrifyingly dangerous place in my mind. And this was a different kind of church than I was used to (thank goodness!), and the unfamiliarity was also scary. But there was something incredible happening and I knew it, and I knew that this church was part of it.
I asked God at the time to please provide answers to some of my many questions without me having to ask. That prayer has been answered many times over, and is still being answered in amazing ways but I’m not afraid to ask questions now. This is a safe place to wonder, to question, to ask. Even to doubt or differ.
The last two months have brought healing to 22 years of deep wounds, and a restoration I didn’t dare dream of.
I’m so incredibly happy that I’m joining this church tomorrow. No, membership there changes nothing. There’s no extra perk to joining, unless you count getting a name tag, and no one will expect anything more or less of me. Nothing changes because they will continue to do just what they’ve already done and be what they’ve already been. But it means a lot to me, and it’s my opportunity to say, “me, too.”
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