Fullness & Shalom
God put me on this earth…
So, that we can bring the true fullness of Jesus to the world.
I returned to church in my mid-twenties. My heart was broken. There was a gaping hole the size of my first love. The man who was supposed to become my fiance had suddenly died. I was wounded and confused. I had dealt with depression in the past. I didn’t want to slide back into that place, folding in that despair with this grief.
I grew up knowing Jesus. I still knew Him I just hadn’t been in touch for a while. But, I still knew Him well enough to know that He would be the only salve potent enough to soothe.
So, I sought out the church I knew had been started by the Assistant Pastor of the church that I had attended as a girl. I had grown up with that family. They knew me and I knew I would be loved. I guess I had expected their church to be something like the one I grew up in. Welcoming, comfortable, diverse.
My first Sunday, I was excited to once again feel the joy of worship (that pastor was responsible for instilling my love and understanding and heart for worship). I remember getting ready in the morning not being sure what to wear. Our old church was pretty come-as-you-are. I put on a casual dress...nice but not too nice. When I arrived, I was glad I did. I felt sucked back in time to the predominantly black Pentecostal church that serves as the setting for all of my first memories of church. There wasn’t one woman in pants; and the HATS! There were two thrones on the stage. The men were in suits and dress shoes. This wasn’t what I expected. There were a few faces that I recognized. I don’t remember if I was greeted or not...but I do remember feeling out of place. But as the music started, I remembered why I was there. The pent up hurt oozed from my heart as song, from my eyes as tears. The comfort swirled around me in the chorus of voices singing to Abba. Despite the discomfort, I knew I would return. I’d return just to have those moments to get lost in worship and feel God’s embrace.
I had hoped that over time the discomfort would lessen. A natural introvert, I am generally somewhat uncomfortable in a room full of people I don’t particularly know. It didn’t get easier. I was hoping to reconnect with my childhood friends, the PK’s. But, we were all in our twenties and they had each moved away. I was shy and no one else reached out. I knew I needed to connect, I knew I needed to talk. So, at some point after a Sunday service, I approached the pastor hoping to connect with the man who had known me since the age of two. I needed to talk to someone about the hurt I was feeling. I was intercepted by a man who I learned was an arms bearer, who informed me that the pastor did not speak to attenders after service. He also did not speak to women alone, so I would have to call during the week to make an appointment when his wife could join us. I guess it made sense….but it struck me off. In subsequent months I noticed how easily white people who visited were welcomed and embraced in a way I never had been. I went to midweek studies, I joined the worship team. I still had no friends. This didn’t feel like church.
What wrecks my heart is that people have these experiences all the time. People come to church seeking the fullness of Christ and instead walk away having only experienced the brokenness of His Church. I returned and I stayed because I knew in worship I would find a glimmer of the hope, love, peace, and joy I was searching for...that I needed. But there are too many others who don’t know and get met with rejection, distance and judgement.
God put me on this earth…
So, that we can bring true shalom to our communities.