Letter to the Church from a New Member

How did I come to ask to belong to Madison Presbyterian Church?

I have been chasing God my whole life, at first accepting everything I was told without question, without wonder.  I almost caught God that time.  I was, after all, a child in church.

Then later, there was more chasing, trying to define God by taking everything the church had to offer.  Without question, it felt so good to know all the hymns by heart, to sing, to be good at Bible drills, to perform.

I learned, grew, changed.  I baited God with my time and my children.  Again, you can almost capture God when you use a child.  I glimpsed the eternal everywhere and still, I couldn’t figure how to define the God I was chasing.

And, I was beginning to have questions.  Questions that were free of the answers I had already found.

I hunted God in service and leadership. Teaching, listening ministry, worship, fellowship.  I lost ground in a divided church, trying to solve problems, maybe even choosing sides.  The bigger and deeper the questions, the less worthy I have felt to try to answer them.

I have not been able to pray God to me, to teach God to me, to work, to serve, to study, to lead God to me.

I have been unable to attract God by calling out in words that sound like God words, singing louder, behaving better.

I have not been smart enough, powerful enough, good enough, or right enough to trap someone else’s certainty.  I have been unable to own God.

How, then, can I ask you to call me a Christian?

………………………

I am so grateful for the support of a few holy friends while I have spent years outside a meaningful church relationship.

And, somehow, I found myself in a new town, still chasing God, now using my grandchildren.  (God does love a good kid!)

Could I dare step through the door of any church again? Could I?

I thought, “They can probably smell my insincerity, my faithlessness, my desperation!  Will they notice me right away?  Maybe there is still enough time for me to have a few quiet moments.  Some peace.  Nobody will know me here, not yet.” 

I stepped inside the doors of this sanctuary anyway and awaited the inevitable disappointment.

I thought, “It makes me so sad.  God might not be here either.  Is it worth the risk?”

And then, the music was still there.  The prayers were still there.  Moments of peace and hope are still here.

I thought, “It truly is a sanctuary, a safe place, when nobody knows you are here!”

Then, quietly, I tiptoed out.  Yes, I was safe.  I could start to breathe by the time I retreated to my little house.

…………………..

So, I was new.  Maybe you wouldn’t pay too much attention to me and I could safely keep my fear of faith a secret.  And, for a while, I eluded you.  You missed me.  Didn’t know I was here watching.

Then, gently, one by one…you came to me.

And, the old ugly questions began to bubble inside me.

I tested your waters.  I offered suggestions.  Such an arrogant thing to do.  I was not right to do it and you called my bluff.  What happened?  Somebody listened.  There was evidence that I had been heard.  Somebody cared?

I checked out every class and Bible Study, choir, retreat and committee and found thoughtful people I could admire, people who patiently allowed me to examine their Jesus with a magnifying glass and a fine toothed comb.

Carefully, bite by bite, I offered you what I have.

First, the insignificant things:  suggestions, help, a voice.

Then, the big stuff: a question, a prayer, my children, my grandchildren.

You kept welcoming me.

From you: a word, a card, a hug, a tear.  All were tiny invitations.

The Love drew me in.

I did not run away.

Still, I will hide myself from you.  I will rarely feel worthy to risk your seeing the real me.

And, even so, the kindness in your eyes draws me even closer, gives me new courage to offer something more.

I have found here at Madison Presbyterian Church, case by case, test by test, room by room, and heart by heart, real people who are authentic and filled with grace.  You are an interesting collection of people committed to love each other and, at least, one more stranger.

I have been accepted here, heard here.  My gifts are opened and appreciated here. My heart is full.

God, the unique expression of love, has caught me.  God has caught me, here.

Chasing God is exhausting.  That is to say that I am not as genuine as you are, as loving as you are, as patient as you are. 

Still, I bring you the gifts that I brought with me that first day.  I bring you my anger and my defensiveness, my fear and my frustration, my doubt and my arrogance. I bring you my pretending, my anxiety, my insincerity, my faithlessness and my desperation. 

And, by asking you to take me in, I am daring you to use these gifts for something good.

I want to be more like you. Just remember, you get what you ask for.