I started this school year committed to making Sundays a true day of rest. That goal evolved over time into Saturdays spent doing what I find restful, even if that is organizing a closet or pulling weeds. This summer when my kids have their weekend baseball and softball tournaments, my day of rest might become Monday. The point is, I will honor a Sabbath. The point is also that I'm not convinced going to church is a good Sabbath practice for me. When my family attended a mainstream evangelical church, mornings on the day of rest used to result in sharp words, frustrated sighs, frantic rushing, and then the silent treatment. (Can anybody relate?) It was ridiculous. Reflecting on those miserable Sunday morning years, I see more clearly what was hurting our family, and it was more than pushing the snooze button too many times. In fact, I would usually be up hours before we needed to leave for church, but I always drug my feet. Why? When we went to church,
Now, when we gather with our small faith-based community in homes,
When I look at these lists, I'm not surprised I was dragging my feet and wringing my hands each Sunday morning. So, what does Sabbath look like without going to church? For me, it looks like silence, reflection, and contemplation, as well as prayer, nature, and joy. Sabbath looks like me sitting quietly in my thinking chair in front of a bright and warm window and under an afghan my grandma crocheted. In the summer, Sabbath is me on the deck, sipping tea, reveling in God's creation and blessings, and writing down my reflections in a journal. When I was a child, we went to Sunday School, morning church, and evening church every Sunday, so it's not surprising that for decades I connected Sabbath with church, rather than rest. Yet, the hustle and bustle of modern church life eventually lost all resemblance of a Sabbath for me. And that is just one more reason why I am leaving church to restore my faith.
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Leaving church has required me to be more responsible for and deliberate with my spiritual journey. A vital part of that is finding and pursuing spiritual instruction, and my favorite are the works of Rob Bell. Rob frequently talks about humanity's need to take a Sabbath, to observe a day of rest. By nature, I love to be doing, accomplishing, and progressing, so for over two decades Sunday has been synonymous with schoolwork for me. Most Sunday afternoons and/or evenings I grade essays. Each essay takes 10-15 minutes, and a typical batch has 60. I love being a teacher, but grading essays can be draining. So, this year I'm figuring out how to grade less without negatively impacting my students' learning. I found a lot of research and groups to help me, and I'm making strides. But, more pertinent to this blog is that I also decided to make Sundays my day of rest. It worked for about a month. One Saturday morning while sitting in my thinking chair and soaking in the morning sun, I realized that my Sabbath was already naturally occurring on Saturdays. What's more, my rest does not have to look like another's rest. Piddling around the house as I take my time organizing a closet or pulling weeds is rest for me. Once a friend, who had noticed me pulling weeds for several days in a row, approached me and said, "You could take care of those weeds a lot more quickly with some spray." I smiled and replied, "I know, but this is my quiet time. Something about the steady pulling, the sun, and the air is sacred for me." Rob Bell is teaching me a lot these days, and honoring a Sabbath is one of the greatest lessons. We need to honor the natural rhythms of God's creation and take time to rest. And, I'm just starting to figure this out after leaving church. Ever since we began dating as sophomores in high school, my husband Josh and I have attended church together. In high school we mostly attended the church I grew up in, a Baptist church with German roots in a town of only 300. On a few occasions, I attended his church, a charismatic church in the heart of our state's largest city. Once we started college in 1996, I found a new church near my college, and Josh joined me there. That church became the place we would marry, dedicate both of our children, and attend for over two decades. But, it was always the church I chose. For Josh, that church was fine. It was easy. It was routine. But, when we decided together to leave and commit to a small home church, not only did church become more meaningful, but marriage became more fun. Why?
For the first time in 25 years, we truly chose our faith community together. For the first time, we are connecting deeply with the people in our "church." In short, we went from passive and anonymous to active and intimate. An experience like ours is not possible for all couples, nor desirable. But, maybe this next part is. No longer are we going to church, stuck in routine and expectations. In fact, in leaving church, we found ourselves more than ever before being church. And, that's good for marriage. Our small faith community gathering last night inspired my husband to write this as our day began.
"For me, my faith has been strengthened by doubt. In fact, until I doubted, I don't believe I even had faith. I was sure everything I'd ever been told in church was right, so I didn't need faith. Who needs faith when you 'know'?" I am grateful Josh and I have joined a small faith community where doubts, questions, and frustrations with faith and God are shared, heard, and discussed. I am also grateful that leaving church increased the frequency of conversations like this for Josh and me. In fact, leaving a large church that could let us be passive and anonymous for a different faith community that needs us to be active and intimate tends to affect a lot of areas of life. Next weekend, I'll share more about why leaving church was good for our marriage. |