Witness to Withness

Church

The body of Christ it is called by name
A place where persons could rise Christ again
They were hands and feet, mind and soul
Together they could save a life and make it whole

There are endless stories about church that floated around me like helium balloons in a room. Many of them had potential to burst, a few to soar to places unknown. I did not feel connected. This did not mean however that I was not aware of a lot of things happening around me.

         Church was a sore subject for me through much of my recovery and movement out of severe depression. I had been called to be a minister and the church seemed very far away from me when I needed the church most. At one point my mother made a point to tell me that the pastor of my church used my plight as an illustration that ennobled the church. He also made it clear to my mother that the only reason I did not get a visit from him was that he thought I had decided to be a member elsewhere. I can admit to being in a period of searching. I still considered myself a member of his church. As far as I was concerned he had no excuse and I was not comfortable with being "used" to further its objective of growing the church.

         The church has an annoying way of promoting an agenda of joy. It may help most persons to feel grounded in having something/a faith that is worthwhile, others like myself experienced as a needle working it's way into an already deflating a soul. A couple of stories reveal how this is true.

         Right after New year of 1977 when my depression was peaking I went to a church that I often attended with a friend. I was met at the door by a well meaning member (I have no doubt) who let me know that she had been born again and was happy as could be and she wanted me to get born again too. It served only to make me more distant from God and anyone else who called themselves Christian. I considered myself a Christian even if I was not bubbling all over with joy and at the same time I was wondering how God could love me in the sorry state I was in. The one thing that was very clear to me. The rhetoric of this well meaning woman was not helpful. The last thing I needed was a conversion experience.
         However this did not stop another church from wanting to work its magic. I will again admit I have no question that they meant well. My grandparents took my brother Craig and I to a church that was fervent about wanting to bring persons to a new relationship with God. After the service was over the pastor directed pew stewards to usher forth persons who were wanting to know Jesus as savior. My brother and I were new to the church and were brought to the front of the church while all watched. It was not helpful. I left thinking God had given up on me. What business did I have to believe that any experience that I had of God up to this point was viable.

         Even more disturbing than all this was the seeming indifference toward me by the place where I voiced that I was called by God to be a minister. What a fly in the ointment I must have been to the church at the college I attended. How could a called minister drop to such a low place? I have to admit that in retrospect that there may have been a lot of reasons for them to not come my way, one being a distance of twenty miles away and another not being sure about how to best work with me in the context of the family I lived with. And to be truthful, I never called them: What did I expect?

         There was a light in the tunnel in the midst of all the darkness that I felt had nearly suffocated me. I was invited to play basketball with a church group. I loved basketball and played often before my malaise. Friends knew this and invited me to tag along. It was humbling/disturbing to see my shots miss over and over again. I could not hit the broad side of a mall. Teams were chosen. I felt kind of sorry for my team knowing that I was on it. It was nearing the end of the game when I got the ball deep in the corner. No one even bothered to guard me. People on my team urged me on to shoot the ball. The score was tied at the time. Even in my depressive stupor where I felt little or nothing their request seemed retarded. I flung it up only because they said to and the damn ball went in. I was deeply affected. Even if it did not take away the depression it eased it. It was not all that lived and breathed inside of me. If someone believes in you great things can happen. At times without knowing it the church does become the body of Christ and the balloon that had seemed to burst into oblivion soars to heights it had not known.

Church was a sign of what could be as a result of... After all I felt called to help others in the context of church ministry. Some of the clues as to how this might happen were given seed here. As I indicated, there was floating of impressions about a place which I considered my real family in essence. It was just a matter of trying to figure out what my role was and whether I wanted to be a part of this family at all.