Last spring someone asked me if I graduated from church or dropped out. Although the metaphor is probably inadequate, I'm a drop-out.
Brian, a former student of mine, once wrote, "I have skipped classes to go home and read a book or watch a documentary. If there is a better testament to the failure of school than that, I can't think of one." The same has been said of church. I and many of my friends have skipped church to practice our faith through means that felt more authentic, community focused, and true to the faith than what we found in the church building. For years we found ourselves dipping out before we eventually dropped out. What can be done? At the school where I've taught for almost 20 years, we are reducing our drop-out rate by responding to the individual student, rather than the whole group. When we are at our best, our at-risk students (and really aren't we all at risk?) know they are each seen and they each matter. And, it's those deep, personal connections that can make all the difference. It's those deep, personal connections that make all the difference at church as well. I was blessed by some deep, personal connections at my former churches, and I miss those. Sometimes, though, even personal connections cannot overcome systemic issues. And, no matter how hard the leaders try, some drop outs are inevitable at school and at church. When asked the question, I also chose drop-out because I have felt the shame of a drop-out. I have seen myself as a person who couldn't handle what many others seem to find easy and rewarding. I have felt like I gave up and took the easy way out. I know that church will never be completely easy -- no organization is -- but I decided just over two years ago that church doesn't need to be that hard. And, maybe the easier option is easier because it's where I'm meant to be. Leaving my church brought some guilt and shame for me -- as well as some pain for the people I left. Dropping out was also hard because the typical church was woven into my culture and history for four decades. Yet, leaving my church also forced me into greater ownership of my faith. So, when all is said and done, I did drop out of a church. Yet, I have no plans to drop out of the church.
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In the beginning, we were disillusioned by our church experiences. We longed for a place to experience belonging, to imagine other ways church can look, to grow deeper in our faith, and to find support for our work as the hands and feet of Jesus in this world. Year one was both refreshing and hard as we learned how to love one another. We found rest and safety while we also negotiated how to move forward and address our differences. Year two, we evolved to find our rhythms and establish some roots. We began to use the lectionary as a guide for our discussions and meditations, and we made changes to enhance the children's experience, especially emphasizing our relationships with them. Year three, we continue to evolve. Our demographics have shifted, making us less homogeneous, which has enhanced the experience. The children are staying with the adults with more frequency. We are still learning how to best love one another and God as we face demanding careers, serious health issues, and challenging relationships. In reflection, I can't help but to think about roots and ruts. Roots provide stability and nourishment while ruts keep us in one spot and limit our perspective. As a house church community, we value the roots and steer clear of the ruts. Our rhythms, routines, and rituals have value; our constant evolution has value; and we aim to honor both. My prayer for our little house church is that when all is said and done, we can say we maintained our roots and steered clear of the ruts. And just like the rest of God's creation, we never stopped evolving. |