My Community Church Story.

My journey into the community church setting was not a deliberate one; it wasn't a response to mistreatment; it wasn't because of a sudden scriptural enlightenment; it wasn't a rebellious last stand against my upbringing. Do people make changes because of these reasons? Absolutely. But I was not one of them.

I fell in love.

I fell in love with a guy who worships Jesus with an acoustic guitar in his hand. I fell in love with a guy who hates showing emotion, but can't get through a service without tears streaming down his face. 

And I thought it was going to be a deal breaker. The first few times I attended, I sat the entire service with my arms crossed. People even warned Justin that I was ice that just wasn't breaking. 

But I fought. And I cried. And I discussed. And I studied. And my heart was broken that the legs that I thought I was standing on became increasingly unstable--their stability crumbled by a first-time unbiased look at scriptures I had read a million times. 

The other started slowly at first. 

"Is your fiance a member of 'the church'?"

"I go to a community church in Jonesboro." The awkward pause. The belated response of "Oh." 

Feeling ashamed to be Facebook tagged at church because others might think that I "gave up my religion" for a boy. (I've been told similar before). 

Am I a tad oversensitive? Probably. But these are subtle things that many experience when they enter a slightly different church setting. 

I should be overjoyed to talk about my speaking engagement at a women's conference or the wonderful praise team and worship band we have, but instead I feel like these are things that would elicit a weird subject change rather than more questions. 

I write this, not to be controversial or hurtful, but to bring awareness. Most people have been nothing but kind to me. But I also know that many are oblivious to how glances and certain phrases make other people feel. How the wrong inflection of 'the church' can tear down someone's spirit. How confusing "leaving the faith" with "leaving my church" is a detrimental point of view. 

When someone who wasn't jaded before becomes jaded accidentally after the fact, what insight does this leave in regard to influencing young people who are still there? I assure you that their staying has little to do with "kids these days," Beyonce's lack of clothes or the church next door's rock concerts. It has to do with so much more. So much more. And we're ignoring that. 

I have debated writing this for quite some time. Recent events have helped me finish it. Because I feel like others need to know what muted ostracism feels like. 

The worst part of all this is coming to grips with how judgmental I was. How I could go to a Casting Crowns concert and the next day wonder why you played them at your congregation. How Rated R movies seemed like a better option than a youth rally at a different denomination. 

Looking back, the double standards in my head were atrocious. But I'm proof that it's never too late to change your heart. 

I promise it will change your life. 

The Job of Your Voice

You know you haven't blogged in forever when... it takes you like 238 times to get your password right. Oops.

I could shower you with a ton of excuses right now. I'm good at excuses. Like if there was an American Excuse Ninja competition, I'd put that female 5 ft gymnast alien that's going viral to SHAME.

But here's the bottom line, people: I was discouraged. A wonderful job opportunity fell through (I would have been able to blog and Facebook for a living, folks. Hello, that had my name all over it!) Everyone around me seemed to be starting their medical residencies and popping out kids, and I felt like I was Captain America--frozen in time--waiting for my chance to resurrect itself centuries down the road. I realize I just made an American Ninja and superhero reference within the first few paragraphs. If that doesn't say "marriage," I don't know what does.

I would read these blogs (cough, cough, Matt Walsh) that were clearly cookie cutter written to get certain groups riled up and tons of views. If there was a poster of preaching to the choir, these bloggers would be on it. This would defeat me even more. What's the purpose of writing, I would think, if 2 million people would rather read a whiny mom blog about what her kid-less friends don't understand? 

In this social media driven world, it's hard not to get immersed in numbers, in shares, in hits. What I didn't realize is that I was applying the failure that has plagued my professional endeavors to what was once an escape from all that. As author Meg Rosoff says,

"Your writing voice is the deepest possible reflection of who you are. The job of your voice is not to seduce or flatter or make well-shaped sentences. In your voice, your readers should be able to hear the contents of your mind, your heart, your soul." 

My job is not to flatter a topic, whether I agree with it or not, for the sake of popularity. My job is not to base the weight of my experiences on how many people "shared" them. My job is to relay the depths of my heart.

And it's time I got back to that.