Knocking on Heavens Door: Gimme Shelter or No Shelter

I have a confession, I have a lot of mixed feelings when it comes to the Church. I was born into Evangelical Christian traditions, a stint with Baptists, most of my childhood and early teen years in the Evangelical Presbyterian Church (a mega church in the suburbs no less), and my teens to mid-twenties with the Salvation Army. Then, I went the Exvangelical route and spent like ten or twelve years in the Lutheran tradition. I now live in agnostic apostate territory. The Church gave a lot to me. The Church took a lot from me. I'd say that the Church and I are even and I'm okay being on the outside of it. But, that succinct paragraph packages a couple of decades a little too nicely. 

In another life, I was a lot closer to current religious and political uprisings than even I can fully comprehend. But, an old friend and former pastor of mine called me a nonconformist for a reason. I tend to challenge the systems I'm in. When I was an Evangelical, I pushed the limits and rules on purpose because I saw the self-righteous nature of it. I also enjoyed pushing the limits. I was a kid and teen with CP and parents who were dealing with their respective attempts at recovery and mental health care. We didn't fit into the wealthy suburban mega church, but most of the family went there, and we were expected to show up. I talked about Jesus on Sundays and I talked about addiction, rock n’ roll, and pro wrestling on Mondays (actually, I never talked much about addiction outside of my home). I absolutely loved the message of Jesus – love and caring for people like me – but I saw that I fit the gospel better than I fit the mega church. 

In my teens, I did what most teens do, I rebelled. But, not by being wild and rebellious. I joined a church that I fit in. I joined the Salvation Army because they were average folks serving the poor, and I felt at home. But, they also are an Evangelical Christian tradition that does things a little differently. All the terminology is in army lingo. I got that nonconformist label here because I loved the people, I loved the service, I loved the sense of belonging, and I am forever grateful that the people I met there guided my path to more in life – college and work. But, I always resisted their structure and use of military language. I mostly found it odd. 

Because of the Salvation Army and people I spent time with there, I had a deep faith life, went to an Evangelical Christian College for a degree in Biblical Studies, and started laying the groundwork of my career in Youth Ministry. I even played rock shows at a Salvation Army church (known as a corps). It became my home away from home and a pathway to the future. 

I took my nonconformist attitude into my Evangelical Christian College. It was there that I really started to see the alignment of Evangelical Christianity and conservative politics. The politics highlighted by the administration put a poor taste in my mouth, I spoke out about it, I pushed limits, and I started walking towards becoming an Exvangelical without knowing it. Some of the biggest moments in my life happened at that college. I made lifelong friends. I fell in love for the first time. My mother died and I downplayed how she died. Living with the weight of my mom's overdose death and a subsequent heartbreak, I wasn't happy. The stars aligned and I was offered a less expensive conclusion to my bachelor's degree. 

I left the Evangelical Christian College for a Lutheran College. I knew nothing about Lutherans and the Theology of the Cross, but it would change my life forever. Instead of being outspoken about a conservative administration, I became outspoken about a liberal student body. I got mad when they told me God's grace was sufficient. But, I made some incredible friends and met people who changed my heart. I became an Exvangelical Lutheran because I realized that the God I believed in at the time was bigger than all the bullshit people do to put god in a box. 

I went on to work for two Lutheran Churches as the Director of Youth Ministry. Remember, I partly went into youth ministry because I could physically do the job, but when I took the first church job, I'd only had one minimum wage job for two months in high school. This was over a decade later and I knew nothing about the rules of work. I'll never forget telling the secretary on my first day that I was going to lunch and she said you're on salary, you just go to lunch. I also didn't know about workplace politics so I never filtered my opinions. I once said the biggest summer program in ministry, Vacation Bible School, was dumb and I didn't like it. I was professionally immature and I had a lot to learn. 

It took me awhile to get another ministry job after that one. I started volunteering with multiple churches, a Salvation Army church and a Lutheran one. My dad had a serious injury and I became his caregiver in addition to his codependent. My dad's care was so intense that it broke me and my extended family had to take over. That gave me a chance to get another church job, but not before I moved to the South for a brief period of time. 

I spent three eventful years at my last church job. I built a community. I made some great friends. I lived next door to my job. I had a lot of major personal moments in my life. I truly began the next chapter of life. I never stopped challenging Church systems and ethos, but I'd become more cautious and guarded. 

In my first church job, I was inexperienced in professional life. In my second church job, my best wasn't enough. I regrouped and rebuilt, but my confidence has never been the same. If I didn't belong in the Church, where did I belong? Yes, I recognize that the business and the ministry are not the same thing, but that was always my problem with it, they were supposed to be. School, work, and the world expected me to live up to a performance metric. The Church told me I was accepted as I was, but Church business reminded me that I still missed the mark. That'd be easy enough to get over if my entire existence wasn't built around the Church. 

I've made peace with the fact that church tells me I'm a sinner. I've made peace with the fact that the Church simultaneously taught me the love of Jesus and the worthlessness of self. I've made peace with the fact that no one has the answers, but thinks they do (even me). I've made peace with the fact that church taught me shame. I've made peace with the fact that church gave me hope and a place to belong. People in churches became my biggest supporters, my best friends, and my biggest critics. 

I was once asked by a pastor why I wasn't angry at God. When they asked, I wasn't there yet. I was definitely in doubt and uncertainty. But, I trusted God to get me through the hard stuff. Then one day, I was reflecting on loss and faith, and realized that I wasn't sure God was even there, and if God was, they'd certainly turned their back on me. So for now, it's best to say that I'm uncertain about god. I'm open to a greater power, but I've studied and lived enough religion to be at peace saying best of luck in your future endeavors to the Church.

My worldview has changed a lot since I wrote a song called Sinners’ Paradise and another called The Armor. I've worked through every theological argument you can imagine and seen multiple sides of all of them. What I love about that is that it helps me understand where people are at when it comes to belief. I've got crosses tattooed on my arms, so religion is arguably the biggest influence in my life. It took a lot to challenge and change my views. It took a lot to take them away from me too. I didn't arrive at agnostic apostate without going through heaven and hell first. 

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The section above was written several months ago and I opted not to share it at the time for a few reasons. I've decided to add some reflection and perspective to it. The beginning and end of my youth ministry career are bookends of meaning in my life. Both were tied to my sense of worth. Whether that's more from living with CP or complex trauma I'm not sure. It's definitely part both. After rereading the section above, I felt like a little nuance was due. It's not bitterness you're reading, it's resolve, mixed with unease, mixed with gratitude, mixed with grief, mixed with peace, and mixed with acceptance of the fact that my relationship with the Church changed how I see the world and how I see the Church. And that's perfectly alright. My deeply layered relationship with the Church was more about acceptance, belonging, and my own sense of loveability than anything else. I don't really want to provide a disclaimer for my long, beautiful, messy, and painful road of faith and belonging to the Church. But, the peace and closure I've experienced weren't as apparent as I feel today. Every day brings new peace to this part of my story.