Detox

I was a good Christian.

I was on the Worship Committee. I went to regular meetings. I volunteered to do plenty of things. I spent many mornings rewiring network problems or solving PC problems at the church office. I played guitar and bass at the front of the church every month after attending practices. I even used to lead Worship. I was an elder-in-training, and was close friends with the pastor. My kids were always getting smiled at by everyone on Sunday mornings. My trip to Nicaragua was well-funded by donations from people who were truly interested and sincerely cared for me. I was on the Pastoral Selection Committee. I preached a couple of times, and the pastor was looking to get me to preach on a more regular basis. Our kids are learning Greek so they can read the New Testament in the original language. Scripture covers the walls at our house.

I was a good Christian.

Then we left the our congregation to plant a small house church. There were no more meetings to go to. No more practices to attend. No more smiling handshakes. No more public speaking. No more things that only I could fix. No more people telling me what a great asset I was.

Suddenly, there wasn’t much left. I missed all that, because that’s what I was living for.

I’ve spent the last couple of months realizing that I was too busy being a Christian™ to be a Christian. It’s been devastating to look up to God and feel how shallow and useless I was, and how wonderful I thought I was. I’ve spent a lot of time weeping. I’ve spent a lot of time asking forgiveness. I’ve spent a lot of time receiving forgiveness.

Now I’m responsible for my own faith. I’m reading far more scripture than I ever did before. Not studying to learn more, just reading for pleasure. I keep reading past my “daily allotment” because I want to keep going. I’m talking more to God about His incredible grace and mercy than I ever did before. I’m far more confident in my faith because it’s mine, not something that I use as a front, or something that’s told to me, or something that I feel like I should have, or something that’s expected of me. The great part is that I’m finding that my faith and my knowledge and my worldview are deeper and more solid that I ever knew, because I never needed to challenge them before. I feel like I’ve woken up from a long sleepwalk.

Before I go any further, don’t get me wrong: I’m not blaming the organized church for that. I can see some of the issues that we’ve had with the church affected me personally more than I thought. The combination of my personality and the opportunities for participation without depth let me cruise along riding high. But the issue was that I used the system to get along, rather than using God.

I’m not encouraging Lone Ranger Christianity. Christians need churches. However, I think that stepping back and having to detox from the system has opened my eyes and my heart to a whole new level. It’s time to rethink what church means. It’s time to rethink what prayer means. It’s time to rethink what faith means. It’s time to rethink what service means. It’s time to rethink what giving means. My answers may end up being the same as those I had before, but at least I will have thought about them and prayed about them and struggled with them, and I’m not sure how many people that I know have done that. Where to from here? I have no idea. I’m still waiting for orders from headquarters.

So, how would your faith fare if you left your church tomorrow? You don’t have to quit (I know I’ll get nasty mails if I suggest that). What if you went to a country where there are no Christian churches? How’d your faith hold up?

Comments welcome.