Let me tell
you of the time I almost cried during World Communion Sunday…. But to fully
understand the impact of those almost tears; I have to explain my history on
church and what church currently means to me now (which could change in the
time one of my fellow readers reads this blog in the future.) I grew up in a
Christian household and we went to church when I was little, but church was
never forced on us. The church that I went to was a church that, I felt,
focused more on numbers and doing things “their way,” than on spirituality and
forming connections. As someone who walks to the beat of her own drum, needless
to say, I did not appreciate this. I stopped going to church there because I
was socially overwhelmed, I was overwhelmed by how everybody wore masks at
church (and yes, a 5 year can pick up on those vibes.)
During the time
I stopped going to church my early childhood years, I was always spiritual just
not religious. (But that’s a story for another time.) In middle school, my mom
was in seminary and several of her assignments included her visiting different
churches. Because of my deep desire for reconciliation of people of multi
faiths (I was weird in middle school. I focused on interfaith dialogue instead
of boys.) I decided to tag along with my mom for those assignments. Throughout
the years my mom was in seminary, and even during her ordination process, I
considered myself a church jumper. I believe my dad and brother tagged along
for some of those church jumping years, but I can’t speak for them for that.
Because of my faith at the time and my experience with church jumping, I
considered church an outlet for worship but not an actual family or community.
I usually just went where my mom was preaching.
Fast
forward several years, my mom became the head pastor of what I consider my home
church today. My faith matured, my perspective started to change and I started
to go to church more regularly. Several times I was asked, “Do you want to be a
member here?” “Do you want to go through the new members class?” And every time
my answer was the same, “No.” I’m going to be leaving this church and attend a
different church one some day right, so why would I become a member? I had
church attachment issues. What if my mom leaves the church, wouldn't it be
awkward if I were still a member there? That is some PK (preacher’s kid) stuff.
Do I really need to be a member of a church to be a good Christian? Still
believe there is some theological truth to that, but open to other
interpretations. But despite all these questions and opinions, I still decided
to get confirmed as a new member last spring (I’m officially PRESBYTARIAN!).
Why you ask? Honestly, I can’t tell you in words. I just felt like it was
important to have a home church for emotional support as I embark on my
Californian adventure.
The day I
was confirmed as a new member was actually a much more emotional day than I
thought. I have been attending that church for a good 4-5 years. A lot of
people already knew me, and after the service several people came up to me and
asked, “I thought you already were a member?” “Now it’s official,” was my
reply. So, why am I telling you this fellow reader? Simple, because I’ve been
missing my home church. Something that I never thought I would experience as
someone who used to church hop. This feeling comes and goes and honestly I
cannot explain it. The sensation is just so new to me. I’m starting to see the
church as an embodiment and not just a building. Which is really hard to do considering all
the church politics. Trust me, I’m a Presbyterian PK, I know about church
politics. Another new sensation that I felt often is the fact that I’m
Presbyterian. To me, all denominations are beautiful. People choose his or her
denomination that connects them most to Christ, how can a pathway to God not be
beautiful? So for me, as long as you are not sacrificing chickens, we are good.
But during orientation in New York, since the YAV program is through the
PC(USA), there was a heavily influence of Presbyterianism. The worship used
inclusive language but I could still tell that PC(USA) was a big component of
the YAV program. I don’t think this was a bad thing. But when I came to LA, I
had to leave that Presbyterian environment (for lack of a better term). I am
still in a Christian environment, but it’s interesting being going from a group
of 40+ Presbyterian to the only Presbyterian in the house. Why is this
something that matters to me? We are all Christians so it shouldn't matter to
me. Maybe it has something to do with familiarity? However, it does not matter
as much as processing my emotions on World Communion Sunday.
I have
partaken in World Communion Sunday before, while I acknowledge the spiritual
presence of that day and am humbled by the importance of it, it is something
that I often forget about. If I missed out in participating in communion that
day it wouldn't be the end of the world. However, on that Sunday I became very
upset that I couldn't partake in World Communion Sunday with my church family. I
had no idea why that was. Maybe it has something to do with it being one of my
mom’s favorite holy days, and I can intuitively pick up on that tap into it. If
I was back home missing out on having communion with my church that day would not have bothered me as much. It’s as if I’ve been
juggling so many balls that Sunday I ended up dropping some of them. By me
dropping one these balls that Ive been juggling, I was able to see what I the
balls were trying to hide. I wont get into the details of what my metaphoric
balls were trying to hide, but I will say that a big part of what I they were
trying to hide is faith and rediscovery my faith (although life is constantly a
journey of rediscovering our faith). Yes, I miss my church family, but on a
deeper level I have been spiritually struggling to find joy.
Overall, I
think I’ve been living a fruitful life in LA, or at least I’ve been trying my
best. I’ve been talking to God, trying my best to listen, practicing Lectio Divina
and going to church. However, I have
been spiritually fruitless in the fact that I have not found joy in what I have
been doing here. I did my best to explain this to some friends and got several
wise answers. I tried to explain it to one friend but it did not come out fully
as I wanted it to because of all the emotions I was sorting out (ball
dropping). Plus I couldn't explain it to my friend because of the physical
dynamic of where we were; it was not my preferred place to be emotionally
vulnerable. Despite the conversation going in the direction that I did not want
it to go, my friend said something very insightful to me when I told him I’m
having trouble finding joy, “Well, where do you find joy?"
Looking
back, that is a logical question to ask in that circumstance, but there is
something in that question that made me realize I need to take a step back. The
question is so simple, but so profound. For the sake of keeping the
conversation going, I said that I find joy in people being vulnerable with me.
This is true but I believe there is something deeper than that. When thinking
about what my answer to that question would be, it made me realize that I don't
exactly know what joy is. I’ve been told several times what joy is but I either
forget or it doesn't stick for some reason. So joy is spiritual happiness but
you can also be said right? Isn’t joy spiritual peace? The truth is I have NO
IDEA what joy is and how it plays a part of my spiritual life. And another
truth is that I’m not Gandhi or Mother Teresa, so it’s ok that I don’t know
what joy is. I don't need to add stress to my life of adaption and add another
ball to juggle that ‘s titled, “The What Is Joy Ball.” Even though I’m not
going to overanalyze what joy is and how it plays apart of my spiritual life, I
am still going to make an effort this year to figure that out. Because no
matter what spiritual problems I’m facing, no matter what emotions are eating
at us, no matter what balls we are juggling, God is with us. God is whispering
into every one of our hearts, “Just Breathe.”
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