Sunday Service on a Spiral.

I woke up early, ready to attend the church service. I was ready in good time, prepared breakfast, and we headed to the church. As we parked, my husband asked me, "How are you feeling?" which took me by surprise. I have been feeling better in church environments for a while now. We walk in, greet people we know, and everything is going well until it doesn't... Until at the altar, I find something that looks familiar, until something reminds me, and until something makes me regress, maybe? Or at least that's how it feels.

I think it's going to pass, that in a few moments, I'll feel comfortable again as soon as I focus on the Lord and me. Instead, a series of thoughts runs through my mind: WHAT AM I STILL DOING HERE? Why do I keep doing this to myself? And where am I going to go anyway? Aren't all churches the same? Aren't all leaders the same? Is it my destiny to watch preaching on YouTube for the rest of my life? As all these thoughts run through my mind, I look around, the worship team at work, hundreds of congregants worshipping freely, and suddenly, it feels like the loneliest place in the world: is it just me that feels this way? Is it just me who wants to run back to bed? Why can't I see things in a "more positive" light like the rest of the world seems to be able to? Why don't other people see the warning signs I see?

Another disarming thought: "I used to be that person." That person who looks to be freely worshipping in a temple alongside other people. And I am angry again, so angry, for all that spiritual abuse stole from me, for the joys it replaced with cynicism, for the relationships I lost, for the hope I no longer have. Applause and amens. I play along as my husband looks at me, knowing I have no idea what I'm clapping for. A little over an hour is gone in my private rant. The service ends... Whew… what a service! Not what I had in mind.

Cognitively, I have an answer to most of those questions: No, not all churches are the same. No, not all leaders are the same. I personally know a couple who are not. No, it is not my destiny to rely on YouTube for good teaching about God's truth. Many of us feel that way, even if we are not in the same service. And several of us wish we could stay home before trying again. However, there are times when my mind and heart fail to convey that information to one another. It's part of the process, even if I don't like it.

In the film Under the Tuscan Sun, Frances goes through a horrible divorce where she loses her house, which she had just renovated with money from her mother. Defeated, she moves into an apartment complex for divorcees, which, according to the landlord, "is a temporary place but ends up being permanent for many of his tenants." She can hear her neighbor crying frequently in her flat, a small and frankly depressing space. At a dinner party, Patti, her friend, had a familiar conversation with Frances. It's not a conversation I've had with anyone, but perhaps one I've had with myself.

Patti, frustrated, says to her friend, "I think you're in danger." Frances replies "Of?" to which Patti responds with words that hit close to home with those who know the pain of loss: "Of never recovering". Of. Never. Recovering... Whew. Spiritual abuse has robbed me of so much. It's even hard to explain what I've lost, but it's so much. God... it's so much. And like Frances, I want to stay in that little flat where others also cry and want to stay there. To cry forever. And don't get me wrong, there is a time for it. Grieving the loss is necessary. It is important, and it is valuable. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise. But that is not the final destination.

Someone once told me that healing is like a spiral, not the straight line I expected. Think of it as entering a spiral maze. At the entrance of the maze is a huge tree. As you walk towards the center, you will pass by the tree more than once, but closer to the labyrinth's center and further away from the tree. Sometimes, we feel anger, frustration, sadness, and a sense of loss again, but not at the same intensity, not as often. Not every Sunday is like this. Some Sundays, I leave the service feeling hopeful about what I see in the church. Sometimes, being part of a community is not the terrible monster I imagine it to be. So, I keep trying, step back, take a deep breath, allow myself time and try again.

I try again because even though it is difficult, I refuse to allow spiritual abuse to dictate forever the way I live. I can rebuild, walk through the spiral, and learn to identify the right places. I keep trying; I keep believing that community is good; after all, it was God's idea, and God is the one who is helping me heal, and I can trust that he is teaching me to identify those who genuinely want to honor him and care for the hearts of others. Surely, this was not the last difficult Sunday; there will be more because healing is complicated, but with them will come many good Sundays, too.

So, next Sunday, I will get up early, prepare breakfast, and we will head to church.

Wells, A. (Director). 2003. Under the Tuscan sun. [Movie] Touchstone Pictures.