I went to church this weekend with the intention of “getting back to church.” And I left the service thinking, “Nope.”
Nope has been my involuntary reaction toward church since July of 2015. Of the 220ish Sundays that’ve passed since I was last a church employee, I’ve attended maybe a dozen services. Each of those Sundays, I’ve gotten out of my car; taken a big, cleansing, courage-gathering breath; and tried. I pushed my cynicism aside. I put a muzzle on my critic. I read the “Welcome to…” message in the bulletin, and I smiled and shook hands at the “meet and greet” time. I assumed the people on stage were offering a sincere response, not a performance. I gave the pastor the benefit of the doubt.