It started with a picture

I’ve been thinking about the past lately.  Specifically the 12 years I spent in Maryland when I was a teenager.

It all started with this photo taken by an old friend.

This photo shows the current state of the church I attended until I was 15 years old when my family moved to Ohio.  This is where my dad baptized me, where I was saved during a summer vacation Bible school, where people brought us meals when my mom was on bedrest during two different pregnancies, where I learned how to shoot a basketball, where the cute guy sat next me to during the service, and where I met countless people who hold a special place in my heart.

During my mindful wanderings after I saw this picture, I realized it was also the place where I first experienced disillusionment with the church. Since I’m currently in the middle of a bigger time of church disillusionment, I’m glad I remembered it.

When my family and I left in 1996, it was in the middle of a leadership struggle that had my dad in the middle of it.  The stress from that and his government job caused some major health problems for him.

I remembered how hurt we were, but also how kind so many of the people at that church were to us. I also remembered all the fun I had while at that church with the people I met there. We spent numerous summers together at camp, had too many sleepovers to count, had hayrides in the fall and vacation Bible school in the summer.

I also think of now where I’m so tired of the empty things I kept hearing from church members here. They tell me I just pray when I try to share the anger and bitterness I have with being barren. They don’t pray with me or just ask how I am doing with it. They said their cute saying, so everything can go back to normal.

Or when my sister-in-law dies unexpectedly, leaving behind her teenage daughter, and all they say is, “I’m sorry for your loss.” No offer to talk or even ask how the family is doing. No offer of what can they do.  Just empty words.

As I look at this picture, the buildings are different than when we went there.  Now there is a playground, a fresh paint job on the gym and an overhang on the outdoor stairs.
But the actions of our friends there as we all did life together still remain.

Several years after we left, the property was sold and became another church and it’s still one. It makes me happy to see it well used and full of the signs of life.

I’m at a point right now where I haven’t gone to church in awhile, but I still have my faith. I’m disillusioned with some things, but I’m still focusing on Jesus and how He loved and treated others.

I also think back to this church and how even though it was far from perfect and I have some baggage and bad memories from there, people there were and still are like Jesus to me.
So as I try to figure out what’s next I’m going to focus on that instead of being disillusioned.