Looking back
Why I left the church...but not the Lord...
As a kid I overdosed on church. My parents brought us to Sunday morning and evening, Wednesday night, week long revivals, missionary week, summer Bible school, 5 day club,
camp meetings were our vacations and on it goes. On Sunday nights we'd have to go to a Nazarene church that my dad grew up in and it was so boring. It came with a lot of 'thou shalt nots' such as go to movies, wear makeup, dance, have fun, etc. It was a very very judgmental atmosphere which was not a good one for me because I have a natural bent towards being judgmental and it just fed into it.
I came to resent having to go to church on Sunday nights. The Wonderful World of Disney was on that night and I was never able to watch it. It was the show to watch as a kid and I lied every Monday because I didn't want to feel anymore left out than I already was. It was a resentment that grew the older I got. I looked for any type of manipulation or reason to stay home. It didn't work often but I tried. I finally started babysitting my brothers and my parents went without us kids. I was happier.
In the meantime though I was being treated badly by the pastor's daughter who took a strong dislike to me. She put me down and looked down her nose at me every chance she got. I was miserable because I wanted her to be my friend but that was never gonna happen.
There was a week long summer day camp when I was 12 that I went to at church. I loved it and it was so much fun. I was waiting inside by the church office for my mom to pick me up one afternoon when Carol, the pk, decided to talk to me. She saw me and started telling me how fat and pathetic I was. She spent a long time giving me her opinion of myself and left me in a virtual pile of jagged pieces on the floor. Never had anyone done such a thorough and complete job of destroying me before.
I was stunned and in shock. I don't think I ever told my mom what happened to me. It left me wounded and I still cry from the hurt just writing this. I decided at that moment when I had the chance I was going to never go to church again. I participated but never felt a part of it again. I hated Carol for destroying me with her toxic venomous tongue. When I was old enough to get a job, I asked to work on Sunday mornings so I didn't go to church. I never looked back.
During this whole time I had a relationship with the Lord and it continued. I just didn't have the church participation. In my heart I wanted to be part of a church and have the whole experience but due to circumstances in my life it didn't work out. When I had my first daughter who was disabled it was hard to go to a church without getting the stares and pitiful quick looks. I gave up. I tried again when my second daughter was born but the rejection I had experienced was too strong.
I have a strong faith and wanted my kids to be raised in a church. I have guilt from the lack of the solid foundation but I did teach them myself. I lived a life that they knew and saw the Lord. I never hid it. Once my youngest was born and disabled I tried again but the church doesn't want the disabled or different. The same attitudes were there and I said forget it.
Guilt and shame have followed me and I've lied or changed the subject whenever asked about my church. I felt like such a hypocrite for such a long time. I'm a born again faith believing follower of Jesus Christ who loves him but not the church. I am one of how many? No wonder the church has lost so many.
camp meetings were our vacations and on it goes. On Sunday nights we'd have to go to a Nazarene church that my dad grew up in and it was so boring. It came with a lot of 'thou shalt nots' such as go to movies, wear makeup, dance, have fun, etc. It was a very very judgmental atmosphere which was not a good one for me because I have a natural bent towards being judgmental and it just fed into it.
I came to resent having to go to church on Sunday nights. The Wonderful World of Disney was on that night and I was never able to watch it. It was the show to watch as a kid and I lied every Monday because I didn't want to feel anymore left out than I already was. It was a resentment that grew the older I got. I looked for any type of manipulation or reason to stay home. It didn't work often but I tried. I finally started babysitting my brothers and my parents went without us kids. I was happier.
In the meantime though I was being treated badly by the pastor's daughter who took a strong dislike to me. She put me down and looked down her nose at me every chance she got. I was miserable because I wanted her to be my friend but that was never gonna happen.
There was a week long summer day camp when I was 12 that I went to at church. I loved it and it was so much fun. I was waiting inside by the church office for my mom to pick me up one afternoon when Carol, the pk, decided to talk to me. She saw me and started telling me how fat and pathetic I was. She spent a long time giving me her opinion of myself and left me in a virtual pile of jagged pieces on the floor. Never had anyone done such a thorough and complete job of destroying me before.
I was stunned and in shock. I don't think I ever told my mom what happened to me. It left me wounded and I still cry from the hurt just writing this. I decided at that moment when I had the chance I was going to never go to church again. I participated but never felt a part of it again. I hated Carol for destroying me with her toxic venomous tongue. When I was old enough to get a job, I asked to work on Sunday mornings so I didn't go to church. I never looked back.
During this whole time I had a relationship with the Lord and it continued. I just didn't have the church participation. In my heart I wanted to be part of a church and have the whole experience but due to circumstances in my life it didn't work out. When I had my first daughter who was disabled it was hard to go to a church without getting the stares and pitiful quick looks. I gave up. I tried again when my second daughter was born but the rejection I had experienced was too strong.
I have a strong faith and wanted my kids to be raised in a church. I have guilt from the lack of the solid foundation but I did teach them myself. I lived a life that they knew and saw the Lord. I never hid it. Once my youngest was born and disabled I tried again but the church doesn't want the disabled or different. The same attitudes were there and I said forget it.
Guilt and shame have followed me and I've lied or changed the subject whenever asked about my church. I felt like such a hypocrite for such a long time. I'm a born again faith believing follower of Jesus Christ who loves him but not the church. I am one of how many? No wonder the church has lost so many.
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