Church and the conversation in my head about going back.

One of my favorite historic neighbor churches and its red door

It seems counter-intuitive to have church on my mind, but sometimes I do. My belief in salvation through resurrection washed away long ago, like an un-baptism, and still, I think about church. Long chapters of my life were written there. I talked to Jesus a lot. I believed in Jesus a lot. Church was important. It isn’t now, but it was. In surprising ways, some of its influences remain. Hymns will spontaneously start to play in my head, often when I’m gardening. I hum along. I pray sometimes. It sounds in my head much like when I prayed to Jesus even though now it’s prayer to the universe. Church must still echo around in me somewhere.

I grew up in church. Our church represented a moderate, level headed approach to christian spirituality. My home church and the churches of my friends provided safe and nurturing community. In many ways these churches helped raise me. College and beyond, I gained experience with the larger christian Church. I learned of its toleration, if not promotion, of judgment against otherness. A comfortable home for racism, gender discrimination, class-ism. I started to see church as the antithesis of how I understood the gospel stories. By the time I turned twenty five I was disillusioned, by the time I was thirty five, I walked away.