(If you have ever been a part of a church that subtly steered away from true north and you have been wounded and/or left to question everything you once believed to be true regarding your faith, this one's for you. I wrote this 4 years ago for myself when a church I had once considered as family crumbled under the weight of sin. Although there are still times that I struggle within the body of Christ, God continues to bring healing, hope and redemption. Don't give up on the family of God--step inside the doors of a healthy church, full of ragamuffins like myself, who are determined to stay the course together in service and devotion to Him.)
Sometimes at church, during worship, I close my eyes and I forget where I am at. At that moment, my mind takes me back to THAT place; the place where I once belonged.
In these moments, silence and stillness surround me. Though my eyes are closed, the weight of my memories and emotions permeate to the center of my soul.
In that place where I once belonged, my mouth sings songs of worship to God from a heart that feels alive and loved, in that place called church.
I stand with one foot slightly in front of the other as I balance my weight on the angled floor of what had once-upon-a-time been a movie theater. The seats are an awful color, the carpet an even more horrendous color. Yet, somehow, I am at peace within the walls of an old downtown theatre in need of significant repair—my church.
In that place, the sound of worship is deafening, so loud in fact that I cannot hear my own voice. However, in my current state of closed-eye reminiscing there is nothing but silence. I stand in total stillness breathing in the sweet aroma of corporate worship.
I open my eyes and find myself propelled to the future, or what is now called the present—thousands of miles away from my tattered theatre chair—a place known as HERE— my new church. Glancing around at unfamiliar faces, I feel anonymous and unseen. My heart feels trapped somewhere between THERE and HERE.
I close my eyes again in an attempt to go back to my theatre-chair church. However, this time I feel the floor quaking beneath my feet as the walls of Jericho, the downtown theater church, begin to crumble.
The throne near the pulpit is struck with lightning as God declares His jealousy for a people who have placed a man on His sacred throne. I hit the floor at the weight of His anger, my dirty hands tremble at the rumbling thunder of His voice.
I quickly open my eyes again to HERE, but my heart beats rapidly within at the horror happening THERE, in real time, at my theatre church. The pit in my stomach serves to remind me that this is not a dream, it is a reality.
An earthquake shakes the building. Debris and chaos fill the old theatre church. Shaking, violent shaking and more shaking accompanied with clouds of smoke, loud screams, weeping, and finally darkness and eerie silence.
Adjusting my eyes to the darkness, the scene is comparable to a war zone: wounded attempt to help wounded while the majority of churchgoers are frozen in shock at the sight of it all. I cover my face with shaking hands, but my heart remains smack dab in the middle of the fallen walls of Jericho.
As time moves forward, the body of believers within the fallen walls of the old theatre church attempt to understand the present state of affairs. Battle lines are unwittingly drawn, brother against brother. Birthed from a crippling fear, a war amongst believers ensues. Feelings of ambivalence are in full swing as new believers, and seasoned saints alike find the essence of their faith shaken to the core.
My heart breaks as I watch from HERE. I can’t help but feel the pain and confusion and hurt of each wounded believer. From my viewpoint, I can only watch and pray and hope that God will heal the church, my church. I secretly wonder if my own heart might also find healing somewhere between THERE and HERE.
Years before Jericho’s walls came tumbling down, I was a loyal member of the old theatre church. And before Jericho’s walls came down, I still fought in the trenches for truth—me and a small army of rejected fellow soldiers. We wept, prayed and waited. Both in love and in anger; if such a thing is possible.
Secrets are exposed, lies are revealed; the sin of my own heart not exempt from the messy scene of a church that has forgotten her First Love.
Even from HERE I pray for THERE; the place I once belonged, the place I pray can recover from the devastation of sin. I pray that rebirth will coincide with the rebuilding of the church, as well as a recommitment to keep God on His throne. I pray that the church will remember the God who is Jealous and will return to her First Love.
I open my eyes, and I am HERE at my present church. Worship has ended. I quietly resign to my anonymous seat as the pastor prepares to give his sermon.
No one can see the weight of grief and sadness I am holding; scars and wounds inflicted within from the battles I have fought. I am wary of the longevity of the war. My life has been forever changed in the process of a bloody struggle against the rulers and authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.
My faith is frayed, my countenance weathered. Still, God remains my faithful friend through it all. My Protector and Defender. I secretly plead with Him to not abandon me.
I am no longer THERE, I am HERE.
The chain of inward disabilities which have held me captive loosen their grip on my heart as the voice of the Warrior Spirit within whispers hope from the ashes of a broken spirit.
I trust that in time broken spirits can be renewed and trust regained.
But mostly I pray for my heart to be set free from THERE so that I may live fully HERE—instead of trapped somewhere between THERE and HERE.
Stay the Course…
Sheila
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