Confessions of an Imperfect Churchgoer

     “Cut it out” I yelled, blurting out a few incidental profanities along the way, completely unaware that I was driving sixty miles per hour in a thirty mile per hour zone. My two boys were in the back seat trading punches, and making obscene gestures at unsuspecting passers by. I was so annoyed I wanted to find the nearest bridge and jump off of it. Suddenly I felt crushing pangs of guilt, realizing I was less than two miles from my destination…the church I faithfully attended every Sunday. I felt like Paul the apostle who once described himself as the chief among all sinners.

     I couldn’t help but let my mind wander back to my teen years. I often condemned my father, who then was a Baptist minister, for the behavior I saw at home that didn’t seem fitting to his profession. I judged him, and many other faithful churchgoers to be hypocrites because many times their behavior outside the church did not reflect the words the spoke inside the sanctuary. As a young adult I actually stopped attending church at all, using what I viewed as hypocrisy as an excuse to completely alienate God from my life and live life on my own terms.

     I learned about imperfect churchgoers at an early age, being a ministers daughter- they are called deacons! This ones name was Tom. I can vividly remember him standing before the congregation condemning others in our community for their lifestyles. He seemed like a figure that was larger than life, with his golden teeth and white paten leather shoes. I remember giggling about how ridiculous he looked wearing those solid white suits with broad collars, his shirts unbuttoned just enough to show off the solid gold chain he wore around his tan wrinkled neck.

     Every Sunday morning he roamed about the church hugging every woman he could scoop up smothering them in his cheap cologne. He was sure to get there early enough to get in on the latest gossip, especially if he knew some on the preacher. Tom loved to belittle my father any time he could when we children faltered the least bit, he made sure the entire church knew if there were any problems in our family. Regardless, Tom had his own battle going on at home and everyone knew it.

     I will never forget the phone call we received late one Friday night from an obviously traumatized elderly lady from our church. Apparently Tom’s son had held her at bay with a pocket knife while one of his thug friends pestered her for money to buy drugs. Much to her surprise, she was set free by the glassy eyed teenage delinquent when a passing car shinned it lights on her face revealing her identity (as well as his). I guess it was kind of hard to rob the lady who taught you to sing Jesus Loves Me.

     As time passed we heard more and more horrifying stories about Tom’s son as his addiction to drugs worsened yet Tom never let on that he needed help and he continued to judge everyone else as if his own problem never existed. Later Tom’s son brutally beat his grandmother; he was arrested for breaking an entering, and eventually died during a high speed chase with law enforcement. It was never spoken of at church. Only in small circles outside of Tom’s presence.

     Christian people I encountered as an adult only skewed my perception of churchgoers even more. Countless times I witnessed church leaders committing questionable acts in public places. I have often wondered if church leaders wear masks that they remove when exiting the church on Sunday mornings.

     I have also been on the receiving end of much nursery hour gossip that often takes place by prominent of the church. It is as common as the opening prayer in a Sunday morning service. Often referred to as “the hens in the hen house,” the church ladies use their sharp tongues to nourish the very life of their empty souls.

     Although church gossip is an immense problem in our churches, there are more disturbing problems taking place in our congregation today. These include child abuse, spiritual abuse, and infidelity.

     For instance, the pastor from a recent church I attended bragged from the pulpit about the corporal punishment of his three teenage children. He once shared with the congregation how he reduced his seventeen year old son to tears by repeatedly beating him with a belt until he was willing to cry because he had been reprimanded for a minor incident at school. He then forced his guilt ridden son to bow on his knees and God for forgiveness for his rebelliousness and for causing his dad to have to spank him. His seventeen year old son was sitting in the congregation beside his girlfriend with glowing red cheeks while this sermon was being preached.

     We have all heard about a deacon somewhere who ran off with a church member or preacher’s wife in disgrace. I once believed those stories were fictional until a similar occurred in our community church.

     One Sunday morning there seemed to more ladies congregated in the nursery when I dropped of my little boy and there were whispers and stares as the preacher made his way down the aisle to preach his sermon. Later that day I phone hung off the hook. Person after person called to let me know the latest gossip. The preacher’s wife had run off with the sing leader! Apparently the two had been carrying on an affair for quite some time right under everyone’s nose. Ten years have passed and the pastor is still there, but there hasn’t been a song leader since.

     In every town, city and state there are churches from every denomination that do not live up to what they believe. From the beginning of time to present day this has always been the case. Perhaps that is why the Bible contains so many passages pertaining to hypocrisy.

     I have often wondered why people continue to go to church despite their negative experiences there. And I have come to this conclusion: There is something within each of us that is drawn toward God, something in our spirit makes us aware of a power higher than ourselves and there is emptiness where that being should dwell.

 As we experience our lives we feel a hunger inside, a void in that empty space that nothing but our creator- God can fill.

     We search fruitlessly our entire lives if we do not find Him. We are desperately aware of our inadequacy without Him. And that is why, on any given Sunday you will find me sitting a pew of a church somewhere.

     I have learned that, as a Christian, my purpose for attending church should be to strengthen my relationship with God. Therefore, I will not be discouraged by the shortcomings of my fellow church members and I pray that they will not be discouraged by mine. If my relationship with God is intense no one can subtract from it.

     In learning to forgive myself for my own mistakes and failures I have gained strength and courage to look past the weakness of others. After all…not even churchgoers are perfect!