I haven't been to church in a while.
Not because of some big falling out. Not because of a hurt I'm nursing. Not because I stopped believing. Just because I stopped going. One Sunday became two. Two became a season. A season became "I'll go back when I'm ready."
I'm starting to wonder what I'm waiting to be ready for.
I keep telling myself I'm having a personal walk with God. Praying on my own. Listening to teachings. Building and using my bible companion 'D'Vine' shameless plug Talking about faith on a podcast. Writing about it here. From the outside, my faith looks active.
But there's something specific about gathering that I've been avoiding, and I haven't been honest about why.
Part of it is that church is hard for me right now. The music doesn't always move me. Sometimes the teaching doesn't sit right. Sometimes I look around and feel more alone in a full room than I do at home by myself.
Part of it is that going requires something. Energy. Presence. The willingness to be seen showing up imperfectly. It's easier to be spiritual in private where nobody can clock my inconsistency.
But scripture doesn't really make room for the version of faith I've been practicing. The early church gathered. Hebrews talks about not forsaking the assembling of ourselves. Whatever else I think about modern church culture, the pattern of showing up with other believers is older than my preferences about it.
I've been hiding inside the parts of faith I can do alone.
So this is the small obedience I'm starting with. Not finding the perfect church. Not waiting until I feel like it. Just going. This Sunday. Maybe to one I've been before. Maybe to a new one. I'm not solving the whole question. I'm just going.
I'll probably feel awkward. I'll probably leave with critiques. I'll probably wonder if it was worth it.
I'm going anyway.
Going might be the point. Not the feeling. Just the showing up.
That's where I am.