Faith and Church Attendance : Can You Have One Without The Other?

Disclaimer – Very personal blog entry here.

Confession.  2014 was a very difficult year for me.  While there were some good things I definitely celebrated over the course of 2014, I experienced some significant setbacks that left me reeling.  So when 2015 rolled around, I’m not sure if anyone was happier to see 2014 go away than I was.

For as long as I can remember, I have always gone to church.  Always.  When I was growing up, there was no question where I was going to be every Sunday morning … first Sunday school and then at 11am worship service.  Mama and Daddy made sure of that.  I went to church sporadically during my college years (ie. when I was home from school).  But when I ventured out on my own and settled down in my current hometown, I found a church, and I faithfully attended.  Every Sunday.  Without fail.

For the first several months of 2014, I still regularly attended church.  Even with every disappointment and difficulty I was going through, I still got up and made my way to weekly worship service because I enjoyed it.  There was always a good word.  There was always a good song that ministered to me in some way.  There was always something good I could get from service that kept me wanting to come back the following week.  Well … one Sunday morning, I woke up and decided that I would stay home and relax that day.  The next thing I knew, one missed Sunday morning turned into nearly a year of missed Sunday morning services.  Before I knew it, I had become a faithful and devoted member and president of the deaconess board at Bedside Baptist Church … which was just around the corner from St. Mattress Cathedral.   

During these months of my self-imposed sabbatical from worship service, several thoughts ran through my mind over and over again.  How much of my previous church attendance was just plain old habit … 40+ years of habit?  Was I going to church simply because it’s what I had always done?  While I missed seeing the people and friends who attended the church I was going to, why didn’t I miss going to worship service?  Why was it so easy to stop going and why didn’t I feel bad about not going?  And more importantly, had my faith been so shaken and had my heart become so hardened over things that had happened and were happening that I no longer saw or felt any need or benefit to keep going to church?

Even with all those questions, I still had a couple more.  I’m old enough to know that the storms we go through in life are just temporary and how important it is to hold fast to your faith, stay in prayer, and just keep pressing your way through.  So then, what kind of Christian was I to fall out of fellowship with my church?  There had been no scandal at my church.  Nothing out-of-the-ordinary was going on.  No one hurt me or made me angry enough to want to leave.  My pastor wasn’t making any crazy requests to the congregation for a luxury plane to fly on mission trips.  (Ok.  Lemme just go on ahead and stick my hand out for somebody to pop.  Lol.)  And sure … there were things that happened and didn’t happen at my church that I wasn’t pleased about, but it is a great church with good people.  I just had no desire to be there anymore.

And … who was I to question and be mad at God for placing all these obstacles in my path?  After all, He’s God, and I’m just little ol’ me.  But that’s exactly what I was doing.  I was angry at God because it seemed like every time I turned around, there was something happening.  Disappointment after disappointment.  Bad news on top of bad news I was already dealing with.  Health issues.  Folks that I had to give mental funerals for.  It was too much.  And why the heck was God picking on ME?  Couldn’t He see a sistah was going through some things and give me a break?  He’s seen me struggle.  He’s heard my prayers, but my prayers were falling on deaf ears because He’s still not helping a sistah out.  What gives, God?

The first Sunday I didn’t go to church was really no big deal.  The next Sunday rolled around, and I decided to take another week off.  After a few weeks had passed, I concluded that maybe I just won’t go to church anymore.  When I go to church, life is hard.  When I don’t go to church, life’s still hard.  So, what does it matter, right?  What’s the difference?  

Even though I haven’t regularly attended church and even though I called myself being angry at God for this seemingly continuous and unrelenting storm I’m in, I found that I must have picked up something from all those 40+ years of going to church.  (If not, I’m an extremely slow learner, but I digress.) 

Admittedly, I don’t pray as often as I should, but I still pray.  I mostly pray for others, and I still pray that God will reveal whatever lesson He’s trying to show me (and I really pray He does it quickly). 

I don’t pick up my Bible as much as I should, but He still puts people in my path that can give me a word, and oftentimes it comes when I least expect it.  Several days ago, a coworker posted something on Facebook that was EXACTLY what I needed to hear on that very day.  A few weeks ago, it was from a man who recognized me from my church.  I was in the checkout line at the grocery store when I looked up and saw him staring at me.  I smiled and went on about my business.  When I turned to walk out of the store, he’s waiting on me and tells me he needs to see me back at church.  He told me no matter what I’m dealing with, it wasn’t too big for God.  Although he looked familiar to me, to this day I have no clue who this man is, what his name is, or what he thinks he knows about me.  All I know is that it was meant for our paths to cross at Food Lion that day.

And yes, I feel like I’m still in my storm, but I have found when things go well, I catch myself telling God “thank you”.  I thanked Him for sparing my job recently when others around me were let go.  I thanked Him for the good report my daughter recently received after having to undergo testing at the pediatric cardiology department at Duke Children’s Hospital.  I guess somewhere deep down in all my hurt and anger, I know all the good things that happen are also a part of God’s plan for me. 

(But again, though.   God … can we push this big reveal along?  Please and thank you.)

So then, my question becomes is it possible to still have faith even without seeing the inside of a church in months?  To answer my own question, I guess it’s a yes.  My faith has been shaken.  My faith has been tested.  My faith has been tucked away on my mental shelf … but it’s still there.  If it wasn’t there, I wouldn’t have been able to pray at all even though I don’t pray (or praise) like I should.  If it wasn’t there, I wouldn’t be able to tell God “thank you” even though I’m angry, hurt, and don’t understand why things are as they are.  If it wasn’t there, I wouldn’t read the countless scriptures my sister emails, texts, or quotes to me on a near daily basis … and I do mean countless.  It’s still there.  I just need to get all out of my feelings and tend to my mustard seed.

Will I go back to church?  Eventually.  When?  Who knows?  But what I have learned about myself over these past few months is that I am far from being a perfect person, let alone the perfect Christian … if there is such a thing.  I am still a work in progress.

Y’all pray for a sistah.  

Finally ... It's Down

The South Carolina capital ... without the Confederate flag.

A little over a month ago, I wrote a blog entry (see "Pardon Our Sensitivity") about the Confederate flag after some recent events that happened in North Carolina.  In that blog, I talked about growing up in South Carolina and how it had been made clear year and year and over and over again that the state government in South Carolina was never going to remove that flag.

A couple weeks after I wrote that blog, there was the shooting at Emanuel AME Church in Charleston.  And days after the shooting, there were renewed pleas and protests in getting the Confederate flag removed from the state capital.  After weeks of heated discussions, several rallies in favor of and in opposition to the flag, and many hours of debate on the state senate and house floors, the flag is down.  It's came down TODAY.

I never thought I would live to see this day.  Never.

But ... I'm glad the day has finally come.

The debate over the removal of this flag has gone on in South Carolina for as long as I can remember.  I never understood the debate because the flag should have NEVER been on the capital grounds in the first place.  For some people, the flag means "heritage".  For others, it means racial oppression.  How in the world could something so divisive be allowed to fly for so long on a state capital when it clearly isn't representative of all the state's people?

While I am happy, grateful, and thankful the flag is not on the state grounds anymore, today's removal is a bittersweet victory.  I'm still saddened that it took nine innocent people getting killed in order for lawmakers in South Carolina to realize the flag needed to go .., something many of us have always known.

Facing Facts - I'm Old

I will be the first to admit that when I turned forty a few years ago, I was all in my feelings about it.  I don't know if I was just going through a mid-life crisis or if I was just thinking too much about all the things I still wanted to do before my time here on Earth was up.  My bucket list was pretty long, and at forty, I had barely scratched its surface.

When I was younger, I was always under the impression that forty was old.  Ancient.  Over-the-hill.  Half-way to the grave.  I remember my Mother having a minor health scare at age forty.  I remember my Grandma Frances telling folks she was 39 my entire life.  I've been doing that, too ... celebrating the anniversaries of my 39th birthday for the past few years.

Well ... I've recently come to a realization.  I AM old.  Surprisingly, though, I'm at peace with it.  I am in good health.  I look good, as I am often told, "I never would have guessed you were THAT old".

Here's how I know that I am old.

1.  I find myself more and more these days starting off sentences to my kids like, "When I was your age, I ..."  My toddler daughter is still too young to care when I say that, but I get big eye rolls and hefty sighs from my son when I do ... probably because he knows he's in for a long story when I say that.

2.  I am a lover of music.  Always have been and always will be.  I find myself dissecting new music I hear on the radio these days and can quickly identify the songs that are sampled in them.  If my son is with me when I do this, I always hit him off with, "Lemme pull up the original song on my iPod."  He hits me back with more eye rolls.
 
3.  ... and speaking of music, some of the stuff that comes on the radio these days?  Straight garbage.  Seriously, anybody can have a hit record now.  No matter the message, if it's got a catchy beat, it's a hit.  If I'm not listening to my iPod or CDs in the car, the radio stays on my local R&B and classic soul station.  I don't even wanna know what a flick of the wrist is or what the hell a trap queen / king is.  Whatever it is / they are, it just sounds stupid.

4.  ... and while we're still talking about music, I know I'm old when I find myself watching music award shows (the Grammys, the AMAs, and especially the BET awards), and I'm on my tablet trying to Google people to figure out who they are and what the heck they are performing.

5.  I remember my grandparents and my parents keeping weekly pill boxes for all their medications.  And what do I use now?

Yeah ... that good ol' weekly pill box.  While I could stand to drop a few pounds, I am in relatively good health.  I am on no doctor-prescribed medications, but I take vitamins and dietary supplements so my body won't break down completely on me.  It's just easier to keep up with them all in a pill box.  So, I bit the bullet and bought one a few years ago.

6.  Just this past weekend, I did something I told myself I would never do.  I knew I was going to be outside for a little while, and ... well ... hot weather and ample breasts don't really go together.  So ... I used baby powder to help cut down on the wetness.  All I could think about as I powdered myself were all the old women (grandmothers, great-aunts, older cousins) who hugged me as a child at reunions and how I would always have baby powder on my shirt after we separated.  I could do nothing but laugh at myself and hope that if I hugged someone that day, I wouldn't leave them the gift of a white spot on their shirt.

7.  My husband and I will be needing to buy a new car in the near future.  While we both are of the same mindset that we will drive our current cars until they just refuse to move anymore, we do recognize that we are in need of another vehicle.  While we aren't actively shopping for a car, we have narrowed our list down to a few vehicles.  One of them is a ... (gulp) ... BUICK.  I swore on a stack of Bibles when I was growing up that there would be two cars I would never, ever buy.  One was an Oldsmobile, and the other was a Buick.  I considered those to be old people cars ... and here I am thinking about buying one.  Wow.

But those Enclaves, though ...

8.  The older I get, the more I sound like my parents.  The sayings I grew up hearing have somehow now made their way into my everyday language.  Just like my Daddy, I tell my son to turn off the lights when he leaves a room because he "ain't paying any light bills 'round here".  My sister and I were good kids most of the time, but on several occasions I remember my Mama saying she wished she could take "a slow boat to China" whenever she needed some down time.  Why does that boat ride sound so nice now?  And did you know that "Slow Boat to China" is a real song?

9.  I find myself thinking of and dreaming about retirement more often these days.  I've been in the workforce now for 20+ years.  I'm tired.  Between my full-time job, my side hustle business, and running around with two active children, I daydream about the time when I can sleep late, take leisurely strolls through my neighborhood or go mall-walking while wearing a fanny pack, and travelling the world.  At my age, I still have about 20 more years before I retire.  That seems so far away.  (sigh)

10.  Do old women still wear pantyhose / stockings / knee highs?  Because if so, then ... yep.  I'm old.

11.  Judging from the looks, side-eyes, and blank stares I get sometimes from my kids, I'm old.  A few months ago when we were playing music at home one evening, "Rollin' With Kid-N-Play" came on.  What?!?!?  Instant dance party.  My husband and I broke out dancing, and even did the Kid-N-Play.  I wish the cameras could have caught the looks my son gave us.  Priceless.  And afterwards, he asked us with hints of disgust and bewilderment in his voice, "What was that?"

12. I also know I'm getting old when my friends and classmates have children graduating from high school and college.  One of my husband's classmates just had a son graduate recently from law school.  How old are we?!?!?

And my niece ... Lord!  I remember when she was born.  She was the flower girl at my wedding.  I remember spoiling her rotten and taking her to Chuck E. Cheese when I would keep her on weekends when she was little and taking her shopping when she became a teenager.  Now ... she's my Sorority sister and is in graduate school.

And my nephew!  I remember burning up the interstate when my sister went into labor to get there in time for his birth.  I remember how not one summer would go by without him spending at least a week with my husband and me.  Now ... he's a 6 foot, 4 inch tall college sophomore.

... and my son!  He just turned 13.  THIRTEEN.  He's getting tall, he has pimples, and a mustache.  A MUSTACHE!!!  His voice went from El Debarge to Barry White overnight, it seems.

Where did my babies go?

My son, niece, and nephew ... in 2007 and 2014.

13.  In my younger days, I was all about wearing cute, fashionable heels.  These days, I'm all about comfort.  While I still have several pair of killer heels on my shoe rack in the closet, they are reserved for Sundays or special occasions.  Everyday footwear is now dominated by Clarks and sneakers.  I still haven't brought myself to buying a pair of Hush Puppies, but they are in my future.  Oh, yeah.  I even got my eye on a pair.

14.  I used to pick at my parents and grandparents for going to bed early and waking up at the crack of dawn.  Guess who does that now?  Yep, that would be me.  I'm so glad there's a 10pm news broadcast because the chances of me staying awake past 11pm are pretty slim to none.  And ... I find that I'm up early in the mornings, too.  Sometimes I'm up doing chores (laundry, cooking, or whatever).  Sometimes I'm up just because that's about the only time all day I get time to myself.

15.  I can't see a damn thing anymore these days.  I've had to change the font on my computer screen at work from medium to extra large.  When I read stuff, I do a Fred Sanford and move the book or papers back and forth to try to focus on it.  AND ... now?  Bifocals.  My Grandma used to wear bifocals, and now I do, too.  When the optometrist hit me with the B word, I felt some kind of way about that.  What's next?  The large print Bible by my nightstand?

16.  And of course the older I get, the more I hear about my old school, hometown, or former work buddies who have passed away.  It's happening more and more frequently in these last few years.  Sad.

There are still times when I feel some anxiety about getting older.  Some of that is because of my vanity.  I may be getting old but I'm not trying to LOOK old.  Some of the anxiety comes because of the unknown.  But ... I've learned to take it all in stride.  Waking up everyday pain free, with the activity of all my limbs, and able to have another chance to do something and to be great is a privilege denied to many.  I'll take it.