Unchaining the Phoenix

I skipped church today. I skipped church because I had a rehearsal for my midterm group project scheduled at the same time as church was in session. I was actually secretly glad that I had such a water-tight excuse. I skipped church not just because I had school obligations, but also because part of me eagerly desired to be away from church—and not just the "Sunday let's get together and sing happily" church either—total Christian interaction.

Lately, within the past month at least, I have found Christian interaction very draining. I go to church & feel like it's worse than going to a low-paying job that provides no satisfaction. I hang out with Christian individuals and—not only do I leave feeling very alienated, but I also feel discouraged and burdened, as if several sacks of flour were heaped on my shoulders.

For some reason, this makes me think of my Christian-related experiences in Grade 9. The most beautiful girl in the whole school—so she was called—was in both my Grade 9 French class and my Grade 9 Drama class. She decided to become a Christian somewhere in the middle of the first half of the school-year—kind of around this time, but many many years past. My previous human experience had taught me up to that point that making any definite response to any person, regardless of who they were, would only result in personal agony and strife. If you had asked me a "Yes" or "No" question, the only answers I'd ever be willing to give you would be "Maybe," or "I don't know" accordingly.

After she became a Christian, she continually sought me out for friendship, companionship, advice & the like—I think because I was the most obvious Christian in the school, what with me wearing this semi-large nail cross around my neck while always carrying my Bible around & reading it when not doing schoolwork. Throughout the year, our friendship grew and so did her faith. It was exciting to see new growth in a place that you never expected. By the end of the year, our friendship & her spiritual growth started to become a thing to discuss throughout the school, and it started to get others interested in Christianity as well—not only new interest, but renewed interest too.

One of our final projects for Grade 9 Drama was to create a short movie for class. She & I and two other of our classmates worked together on a Christian-themed "what would it be like at the end of the world" video, which we were hoping would increase interest in the whole Jesus get-up.

Working on the project was quite interesting. She, I, a pastor's daughter and a guy who occasionally came to my youth group were all working together in & out of class on the project. Good Christian community was built. It's odd, because there was one day that I remember clearly when we were working on the filming that ended up with us shooting throughout the lunch hour. I hadn't expected this, so I came along without a lunch. We stopped for a break to stuff our faces and new Christian girl turned to me with a sandwich in her hand saying, "Lucid Elusion," (well, she actually used my real name, but...),"As I was praying last night, I got the idea to make you a lunch so I asked God about it & prayed if I remembered about making you a lunch in the morning before going to school, that it would be a confirmation that He wanted me to make one for you. So when I got up this morning, I remembered about making you a lunch & here you are without one!"

That was cool: Christian community and Faith in action—not to mention a tasty meal to boot. After the following summer, we didn't really hang out much anymore: she was going to a different church and we didn't have any of the same classes in Grade 10, not to mention very different peer groups to begin with... But anyway, that memory speaks to me of Christian community, because she demonstrated to me Christ's love: not only in bringing me food, but also in being open, in being willing to learn & listen, in demonstrating to me that one can be accepted for who they are without having to worry about being attacked by everyone around them. After that year, I began to answer questions more directly & clearly: there was no longer such a need for as powerful a self-defensive stance towards the world. People could indeed like having me around.

In my senior high years, things changed & grew. I was the leader for my church's youth group in Grade 10—leading Friday night events and Wednesday afternoon Bible studies. I started attending a second church in the evenings on Sunday in Grade 11, when pretty much all youth from my church besides my family moved away. I was one of the directors of a youth drop-in centre that the local youth pastors & I spearheaded in Grade 12. I was giving words of prophecy to the leaders of my Sunday evening church after I graduated. Christian community was—on the whole, I think—good. Mind you, I never felt totally accepted by my Christian peers at school, but people older & younger than me loved me tonnes. I never really ever felt "at home" at my Sunday morning church—the one I went to with my parents. I felt alienated by the "cool" Christians & I felt condemned as well for being too hard-core Christian. But on the whole, in the grand picture of things, I still had a small support group of Christians who supported me & believed alongside me for greater & grander things from God. There was a group of us who were never satisfied with run-of-the-mill, status-quo Christianity—we were always begging for more: to go deeper, further & longer into Christ & our relationships with Him.

The other night—I think it was Wednesday, or early Thursday morning—I happened to see an old friend on MSN whom I haven't actually laid eyes on in over 11 years. We talk occasionally on MSN & stuff, but not too often, since he's gallivanting in FlatLand doing what he's doing (this past summer, he was doing an archaeological dig in Jordan) and I'm here over being disgustingly busy with everything that I am doing. I started talking to him that night, but it turned out that he was at work & that his girlfriend was actually online. That was the first time I had ever met her and by the end of the conversation, she had told me pretty much the bulk of her life story, the dirty laundry and everything. It was wonderfully refreshing to have someone open up & dump on me. I miss it a lot. That's not to say that it doesn't happen often; it just doesn't seem to happen as often as I would like. In the past year, I think two other people—just strangers off the street—approach me and tell me the sorrows of their life stories. The year before, I think 5 or 6 did. Besides those 3 strangers, one Christian opened up to me in the past year. Last year, none. The year before, one. This one was the first since Grade 11 who opened up to me (the time between the beginning of Grade 9 & the end of Grade 11 were what I refer to as the "Golden Age" of Christian community in my life). I go to church seeing people around me who are obviously carrying baggage but the largest response I get from them is "I don't feel like talking to you"—whether it's about personal stuff, or even if it's a light, airy-fairy "how's the weather" conversation.

I dislike going to church because it depresses me. I feel shoved away from true community in the church, whereas if I go into the world and surround myself with non-Christians, they line up in droves to sit and have a meaningful conversation with me. I don't know why this is.

I find hanging out with Christians draining & "Like tedious work" because I get the feeling as though I have absolutely nothing in common with any of them. I struggle. I hurt. I screw up. I screw up lots. I eagerly desire a meaningful relationship with Christ—one with power and purpose. I strive to encourage my fellow Christians in their walks.

When I hang out with Christians—typically my age peers, and not so much with my "historically superior" peers—I feel patronised, judged and shunned.

It is like talking about how one's walk with Christ truly is is comparable to openly fornicating in the middle of the service with multiple partners.

Contemporary Christianity—in my current sphere—seems to mandate that a Christian "has arrived" spiritually to be considered Christian.

The suits & ties and frilly summer dresses of our parents' generation have been replaced with a God-forsaken veneer of holiness, a film of pleasant deception, a coating of whitewash on mouldy tombs. To scrape away that outer layer is sacrilege, tantamount to heresy & punishable by excommunication.

I like non-Christians: they don't pretend that they have it all together. They are willing to be vulnerable, open and honest about how crappy their lives are. Truth is refreshing to be surrounded by.

I want to soar. I want to fly with eagles' wings. I want to run and not grow weary. I want to walk and not be faint. I desire to see others do so as well, but how can I? How can we, as Christians, if we forbid the discussion of locomotion, aerodynamics and flight? How can we loose these chains of self-defeat if we're not allowed to talk to each other about cutting torches or lock-smithing?

Going to church—for me—is like joining an aviation club filled with pilots, wearing their aviators & bomber jackets, who have never placed a foot in a airplane in their lives, yet they all tell these wonderful stories about flying. And as soon as you ask any one of them how to fly, or what the inside of a cockpit looks like, you are met with ardent resistance: "That's not something I want to talk about."

Christian community, in order to be effective in producing strong Christians and a powerful church, needs to let go of these powerful, self-defensive stances. We need to become vulnerable and open to one another. We need to trust that the community will support us in spite of our shortcomings. We need to be honest. Why else would we be admonished in the Pauline epistles to treat each other as though we were brothers & sisters, fathers & mothers? If we do not let go of our fear of rejection, our Christian experience will be limited to "Maybe"s & "I don't know"s.

So? What's your answer?