Let’s Talk about Church

I am hearing from a lot of you who are wrestling with your experience of church, and I get it. Practicing your faith in a changing world is challenging no matter what religion. Whether you are happy with your church, feeling empty without one, or fall somewhere in between, I offer you my personal story in the hopes of opening up a safe place to talk about this issue that is weighing heavy on so many hearts. While I share this story from the perspective of a Catholic, this story and this ministry weaves through the many Christian denominations and beyond.

My Foundation

Growing up, I loved going to church. My family belonged to a warm and welcoming parish full of love. Joy was always bursting out of Father Dan through his grin and his homilies. Attending every Sunday with my mom and dad and sister gave me a sense of stability, security, and a foundation of love and belonging. Going to church meant being with my family and belonging to a loving community. I had so much fun finding this picture taken the day of my First Communion. 

My Time Away

When I went away to college, I didn’t go to church very often. On the occasional weekend when I felt depleted, I would attend with the hope of getting a jolt of peace. My parents divorced while I was in college and being in church by myself while away from home made me sad. I had always associated church with being happy, being with my family, and belonging to a community, and I felt broken and alone in all of those areas. 

As a young adult working in TV news, I attended a little more, but weekend work meant it was only when I could, and I wasn’t too motivated because I felt lonely and sad when I attended. When I met my husband, we started going to church together, and when we married and moved to Kansas City, we joined a parish and began attending more regularly. 

“The Way it’s Supposed to Be”

When my daughter was three and my son was one, we moved to California, joined a parish, and became active members of the community. Our kids attended Catholic school, and I was very involved in parish life. I was chair of the stewardship committee for many years and on the pastoral council for a short while. The above picture is from my son’s first communion. I loved that time in my family’s life, belonging to a thriving community, and seeing my friends and the kids’ friends at church every Sunday. Even on the many Sundays when there was chaos, yelling, and tears to get everyone dressed and to church on time, once our family of four was settled in the pew, I felt at peace. Everything was in alignment, “the way it was supposed to be.” Church. Family. Community. 

My Loss and My Questions

And then my whole family changed. My daughter moved out of state for college. My 16-year-old son died of a brain aneurysm a year later. It was suddenly painful to attend that same church where I’d felt such peace. My husband is okay with me telling you that it is still painful for him. Sometimes we go together, and sometimes I am by myself. Throughout my life - without me realizing it - my brain had become hard-wired to associate church with family and community. In his book, The Human Condition, Fr. Thomas Keating would call this my “program for happiness.” 

The pandemic and not being able to physically attend church gave me some breathing time and opened up a space for questions to surface. While I know some feel threatened by questions and believe them to be a sign of dwindling faith, what I have seen in myself and witnessed in others is the exact opposite. Questions can draw you deeper into your faith as you listen and discover where God is in them. Questions surfaced that were helpful in my growth. Were there expectations that I needed to let go? Some that came from within were scary for me to hear. Did I need church if my relationship with God was still being tended to in profound ways? 

A New Way

Recently, my husband and I joined a new Catholic church.  I went by myself at first. It felt weird and sad, but this time I felt called to sit with the uncomfortable feelings. The music and people and pastor give a beautiful, positive energy. What felt “off” about it? 

Looking back, I realize I ran away from church during the times when I wasn’t experiencing “church, family, community.” If I felt I didn’t belong or was sad sitting alone, it seemed wrong. It went against the hard-wiring in my brain that associated church, family, and community as one thing. 

More recently, I recognize how God is inviting me to experience church in a new way. I am entering with a different relationship with God than the one I had when my kids were young. It makes sense that my relationship with church will be different as well. What is this new way? I am not sure. Yet I have a desire to be with God in a space that holds tradition, rituals, and an establishment that is bigger than me, because that helps me experience God as bigger than anything I can understand. It is God that is drawing me in. I am simply walking in it and trusting in the mystery. 

Listening and Trusting

Walking in trust means listening “with the ear of my heart,” as the Benedictines would say. I am listening for the expectations I am called to let go and the ones I want to keep. I am listening to the pieces of my past I need to grieve. I am listening to the elements I want to embrace for the future and share with a hurting world in need of God’s love and mercy. It was my faith-filled community, sacraments, practices, and ritual that held me in my darkest times. There are priests and Sisters who continue to hold my family in ways that can only be described as the mercy of God. I hold all of it in prayer and continue to listen to the questions in my heart and the questions in yours.

You may recall we offered a “Questions of the Heart” survey throughout the month of July. Knowing there are many people adjusting to what church means to them after the pandemic, we asked, “Do you belong to a church community?”

43% answered, “Yes, and I am satisfied with my church community.” 

29% answered, “Yes, but I am unsatisfied with my church community.”

21% answered, “I am unsure how to answer this question. I am in transition.” 

For the Satisfied…

To those who are satisfied with their church community, I invite you to have compassion for those who are questioning or are feeling lost. Every story - yours and theirs - deserves to be listened to with love and respect. I will never forget the time I was standing at the church door as a member of the welcoming committee. A woman came up to me in tears. “Thank you for being here. This is the first time in ten years I’ve been to church. I haven’t been able to come since my husband died. Pray for me that I can get through this morning.” I didn’t understand. How could it be hard to come to church when this is a place of comfort? I judged her faith. I was unaware of the complexities of grief, let alone the many uniquely personal experiences people have of God. 

For the Unsatisfied…

To those who are unsatisfied or in transition, I invite you to carve out gentle time for yourself to reflect on your story. Honor it. Respect it. Listen to where God is in it.

What do you appreciate about church? 

What do you grieve?

What type of community do you long for? 

For All of Us…

To everyone reading this, I invite you to ask yourself, “What do I associate church with?” “Am I open to seeing church as more than that one association?” I remember a time when I was stewardship chair and working passionately to help bring more of a sense of community to the parish. My pastor said to me, “Church is more than community. That is one element.” I stared blankly at him. I had no idea what he was talking about. 

Each person who walks through those doors – or who does not walk through those doors – makes that choice for different and deeply personal reasons. Every life story - the joy and the trauma - contributes to a unique image of God. Likewise, each one of us has a story to tell about our experience with church. 

There are stories of abuse and abandonment, and there are stories of church as a lifeline.  

There are stories of disillusion and frustration, and there are stories of joy and merciful outreach to the marginalized and poor. 

All stories are highly personal and emotional. Many sitting in church with dwindling numbers feel sad, threatened, maybe even abandoned. Many who are leaving feel sad, not heard, and perhaps abandoned as well. The thread flowing through everyone is a desire for God and longing for connection that helps us experience the fullness of life. We are not called to live isolated lives. For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them (Matthew 18:20). 

It is important that we listen to one another, respect each other, and hold sacred space for one another as we talk about this very important issue. It is through the openness to listen - to ourselves and to each other - that we can discern how God is calling us deeper into relationship and calling us to be Christ for one another in a challenging world. 

Share, Connect, Find Community

If this reflection moved you, I invite you to take a look at Sacred Circle, which is all about listening and connecting in a safe and welcoming environment. This is a free, drop-in offering held twice a month.

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We would love to hear your comments. What is your experience of church?