I never thought I'd say this, but I'm churchless

If you had asked me a year ago if my home church closing would upset me that much, I would have shrugged, said I had known it was coming for years, and I wasn’t that close to the people there anyway. However, as events have unfolded over the last six months, and as the long expected reality is finally coming to pass…it’s been a lot harder than I ever thought it would. I have found myself as of this year in the position where I have lost contact with my church for the simple reason that the only people from there who kept in contact with me were my parents, and I don’t even know if the doors are still open. And, knowing that I am absolutely on my own has been sitting heavy on my spirit this month.

I have a pretty complicated church history; on the one hand that has made being where I am harder as I didn't grow up with the 1000 rules of righteousness (not a real thing but they may as well be), but I don't regret for a moment the wonderful men and women of God who impacted my life because of where my family was. I learned hymns and 90's praise songs, I got to serve in different capacities, and at a moment when I personally really needed it I ended up at the Chapel.

It's taken awhile, but on the one hand I'm glad the Chapel is closing, because it has been a dead church for several years, only kept alive by grim adherence to tradition and (I assume) habit. Where there is no vision the people perish, and churches do too. Due to a complex mix of circumstances, personalities, and the fact that we are operating in a predominantly Baptist culture, the time has come where the best thing is to allow the last few members to find a new body where they can do more than desperately perform traditions.

Don't get me wrong--while this church has not nourished, barely supported, and honestly not even bothered to communicate with me while I represented it overseas, I don't bear them any ill will. They filled a much needed space in my life in my late teens and early 20's, and I am thankful to them for that. I am sorry that things ended without anyone there being honest with me about what the state of the church was, and that there likely won't be a clean end. I am sorry to see a body of Christ cease to be, and sorry that nothing was done to save it. However, while I process through knowing that without my few close friends and my family I would be absolutely adrift and on my own out here, I have hope.

Most people don't make it to their 30's without getting to choose a church for themselves, but here I find myself facing that very thing for the first time. I've done some preliminary research on a church or two I think might be a fit, and I look forward to getting to visit them in July and August when I'm Stateside for the break. I have hope that there exists a body of Christ where I can find teaching to feed my soul, ways to serve, and for the first time in a long time, healthy Christian fellowship. I have hope that I will find people my own age to connect to. I have hope that I'll have that grounding in my life again. And I have hope that I can be a part of a growing, active branch of the body of Christ.

So, as with so many things in my heart over the last few days, there is bitter mingled with the tang of hope. Sorrow for what was, and a promise for what will come. I'm looking forward to standing while singing, being free to raise my hands in worship, and to hearing fresh sermons. I'm looking forward to holidays observed and new ways to serve. I'm looking forward to this aspect in what is pretty much going to be a complete reset of my life, even while I mourn a bit for what is lost. Excelsior!