We call it the “service” but it really isn’t service at all. Come to think of it, I can’t think of a single time all week when we, as a church, actually perform “service” together. I’ve been thinking about change. What if we really started using Sunday mornings for worship and instruction and Sunday nights for “service”? Why do we keep on doing what we do, with no biblical injunction to do it? Is change possible?

Not anymore.

Not because I wouldn’t love to.

Because I’ve been made to feel unwelcome, and unworthy of the family in Christ.

I have loved God since I was about 8 years old. I accepted Jesus as my Lord & Savior & was baptized in the water when I was around 12. I was a happy little Southern Baptist attending Emmanuel Baptist Church in Bristol, Tennessee. Howard Robinson was my pastor & Brother Haven Booher was my Sunday School teacher.

I was the oldest of 5 kids whose father & mother never even graduated from high school; we were the poster family for American poverty, not that I am complaining (well, not complaining now, anyway–kids can always find something to complain about). As an adult, three and a half decades later, I finally see the blessing in all we didn’t have, because I now have a deeply personal knowledge of what it’s like to be without & to not be sure where your next meal would come from. It all so badly back then to be so poor & to never know the true meaning of “home”.

But then, I found God, and He was the first experience of “permanence” in my young life, and as I learned more and more about God, I found myself feeling something I had never felt before: hope. I fell in love with God. I remember one of my most favorite hymns as a child, and I still sing it today: “Oh, how I love Jesus; oh, how I love Jesus; oh, how I love Jesus because He first loved me!”

Becoming a Christian, was/is the most profound, moving event in my life, and I cherished being a follower of the Living Christ. I knew that this was meant to be my life. I had no doubt, no reservations, and (no longer any) fear.

I loved going to church…until I learned about how different I was; and how that “difference” would not be tolerated in my newly-found family.

As I grew older & learned more about myself, I came to understand that I am gay, and–though I never dared share my “affliction” with anyone else–I realized that because my heart worked too differently from most others’ hearts, all the promises and all the beautiful words & songs didn’t actually apply to me. Slowly I began to withdraw from my church & from organized religion all together. I couldn’t risk being found out, and I couldn’t bear the thought of my “forever family” abandoning me, so–in my young mind–I figured it was best that I leave instead of being “asked” to go.

It’s a long, ugly story that I won’t go into right now, but suffice it to say that it wasn’t only my heart that was broken, but my entire life. All I came to know as truth was now the truth for “them”, not for me. By dint of my flawed heart, I was apparently immune to God’s unconditional love…or, at least that’s what I have always heard from the loudest voices of Religion. I never felt strong enough to stay where it was made abundantly clear that I was not wanted, unless I was willing to become someone and something I could never be.

So, now–at 47 years of age–I still fight that battle with Religion, but I have come to understand the difference between God & those who claim to speak for Him, and I have sought my Lord’s help to heal my spiritual wounds, and to bring peace to my war-weary heart & mind.

I may not attend any church, per se, but I continue to love God and sing His praises & thank him for slowly-but-surely healing my (still-gay) heart every single day of my life.

Though I am not welcome in most churches, and though I am still seen by so many as an enemy instead of a brother, I have never lost my faith in God, though I HAVE lost a faith I should never have had in the first place: a misplaced faith in those who proudly claim to possess a perfect knowledge of the Father’s heart on the subject of homosexuality, and who dare not allow even one moment of doubt into their beyond-sure minds.

Through all I have endured all these years, and the rivers of tears I have shed over & over again, one immutable truth remains: I still love Jesus, because He has always loved me…just as I am.

As far as when church happens, it happens when ever two or more believers get together to pray, have a meal, or study the Word. I used to lead three Sunday morning services and a Saturday night service. I liked Saturday night services more because we didn’t have the time constraints that existed on Sunday morning. I think that service times like musical style is a reflection of the way that God made us. Sunday, Friday, Monday doesn’t really matter. I don’t think you can really theologize when church happens just like you can’t theologize a ministry methodology.

I hope you and Alyson are doing well and will talk with you soon on twitter!

Peace,
Nathan