I often hear people say that they don’t go to church because they have an issue with the church as a whole - not God, just the church or organized religion and those that represent organized religion. They may reference what they heard in the news; a priest or pastor hurting children, a politician claiming to have faith but who speak words of hate, etc. While I truly understand where they are coming from, I also firmly disagree.

My faith started with my grandmother

I was given the gift of faith as a young child. My grandmother had a huge part in laying that foundation, which helped me through a lot of what life would throw my way. My mother was a schizophrenic, which often put my sister and me in precarious situations. At these times, my grandmother would always let us know we were never alone, we were always loved, and that God would be with us no matter what.

Eventually, due to my mother’s inability to care for us appropriately, we moved in with my grandparents. I would often go to work with my grandmother at the home office for a church organization. My grandmother would work, and I would entertain myself by coloring. During this time, I met a man who worked there named Jim. He was a pastor, but he was often found handling the janitorial duties, and he allowed me to tag along. We became fast friends. Piggyback rides, booger jokes, and lots of attention filled a bored little girl’s time. I thought he was the best thing since sliced bread!

So when my grandmother told me one afternoon that we were leaving to have lunch with my mother, my immediate thought was that I needed to introduce Jim to my mother. I just knew they could get married. I had dreamed of having a father forever, and Jim seemed to be the perfect fit. My hopes came true, and they were married not long afterwards.

Then bad went to worse

But it turned out that my mother and Jim were a perfect fit for all the wrong reasons. Not long after, I learned Jim was actually a pedophile, and that a single mother with a mental illness, raising two young girls, was just what he was looking for. When I was older, I was told that all of the adults in our family, even my grandma, were aware of the molestation, but because my mother was finally being taken care of, they weren’t going to ruin that by interfering.

When my mother’s relationship with Jim began to deteriorate, my sister and I went back to live with our grandparents. Less than six months later, my grandmother passed away from a failed heart transplant.

Our grandfather was left to raise two young girls, who weren’t even biologically his. I can’t imagine the weight on his shoulders. Less than six months after my grandmother’s passing, he married her best friend, another missionary, who also turned out to be extremely abusive.

They eventually made the wise decision that we would be better off in a children’s home. I still feel this was a gift from God to my sister and me. Even at that young age, I knew it was a better place than where I was. I like to say that although I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy, it was a better, safer place than where I was before. I was no longer physically abused or molested in the children’s home. However, I was told things such as I was stupid, that I would end up a teen pregnancy case, and that I would never graduate college. So it fell short of perfect, but it was definitely the lesser of two evils.

By the time I left for college, I’d decided that I no longer needed to go to church.

Look at what people of religion had done to me thus far. Why would I stay, and allow that to continue? How could I trust in anyone? I didn’t need church, and I didn’t need the hypocrisy of modernized religion.

For a decade, I lived like that.

Do you think I studied the Bible on my own? Did I grow deeper in my relationship with God, or make better decisions without God or the fellowship of other Christians to hold me accountable?

If you guessed no, you’re correct. None of those things happened.

When I realized I needed the church

In my late twenties, I decided my life needed to change. What was I missing? I realized that it was God. I needed Him. More than that, I needed a church. I needed the body of Christ and the fellowship it offered to grow. During my time away from God, I came to several conclusions that would be pivotal in my faith.

• First, all people are hypocrites. We all fall short of God’s glory. It’s so easy to say one thing, and do another.
• Second, God loves us despite that. His beauty and love shines through all the horrible things we, or others, may do. That’s amazing!
• Third, if you don’t have God’s community, his body, to help nurture and push you, your faith will grow stagnate. I have yet to meet a person who grew deeper in their relationship with God while refusing to attend church.

God created the church to help us all along our faith journey

I understand those who are hesitant to return to the faith because of less-than-favorable experiences with the church. I’ve been there myself. But I’ve realized just how much Christ longs for a relationship with each and every one of us. He created the body of Christ, our fellow Christians, to help us along that journey. Yes, we may not always get it right, but we still need each other.

Now I find comfort in knowing that people aren’t perfect and God loves us despite that. I love knowing that I can grow among the broken people that make up God’s church. We can lift each other up, strengthen one another, and provide each other support in a way that glorifies God.