When I first moved to Colorado, my family started attending a church (let's call it Church A), where we stayed for four years until I graduated high school. It was the first church where I was actively involved in the youth group and in leadership. It was the first time I had a group of believing friends. It was the first time I had a best friend and close friends of the same faith. It was the first time I had real guy friends. It was the first time I had middle schoolers looking up to me and thinking I was cool. And it was the first time I felt like people actually liked me and thought I was fun to be around.
I was enthralled by this new social life, by this new source of identity. Unfortunately, along came high school drama, gossip and rumors, due to my own immaturity and that of others, both young and old. With everything going on in Church A, I was very hurt and bitter. My family and I finally left that church and moved on.
Now that I have finished college, I have moved back to my home in Colorado Springs. Looking for a new church home, I attended a church this morning (let's call it Church B) which I hadn't been to before but I had had several friends recommend checking it out.
I was shocked to find that, because it doesn't have it's own building yet, Church B actually meets at the same church I used to go to in high school, Church A, but in a different part of their building.
As I drove along a road I hadn't taken in over three years, parked in this familiar parking lot, and walked into this church building that held most of my high school memories, my heart suddenly felt so heavy. I felt a range of emotions, from anger to happiness to anxiety to remorse.
It was a very different service for Church B because today was the last Sunday it would gather at Church A's building. They were moving. Instead of a regular sermon, we instead broke into teams and served around the church building, cleaning and writing thank-you notes in order to show our appreciation for Church A in letting us use their building for two years.
My first thought when I heard this plan was, I'm not a member of Church B. This is my first time here. I don't need to thank Church A because they have done nothing for me. This is awkward and I don't want to be here anymore.
My second thought was, This is an answer to prayer.
As I stared at the walls of this church, it was slowly revealed to me that I had made Church A and its people an idol. Church A had become my home, it had become my identity, and it had become my god. When its people made mistakes and failed to meet my expectations -- as all churches, ministries, organizations and human beings do -- I took it personally, saw things through the narrow lens of a dramatic high school girl, and I ran away.
I realized these things as I walked through this church building, a visitor of another church body. It had never occurred to me before that maybe Church A hadn't wronged me. If it had, I can't deny that I was at fault too. I had sinned against the Church, tearing her down with my words and with my thoughts. And I had sinned against God, for making this group of people and my place among them an idol before Him.
This morning I found myself an old friend to Church A, cleaning its toilets and wiping down its windows. I wasn't serving Church A for the reasons Church B was serving them; I was serving them for the four years they took me in as a young naive girl. I was serving them to say, "You are not my enemy; I'm sorry for making it up in my mind that you were."
For years I had been wanting to visit this church again, to walk through its halls and rooms and remember some good times -- but I wanted to find a way to do this without necessarily attending the church service. God answered that prayer for me today in a way I never thought He would. He also answered a prayer I didn't know had been on my heart -- to finally be at peace in my heart with this Church.
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