Darkness of Night

You know how nights are always the time when your mind has time to swirl and emotions aren't far behind? Ugh. Last night was a doozy.

I met with someone from our congregation yesterday. They're hoping to find a new church. They're tired. I get it. I am tired too. But I also don't get it. How can they just walk away from what they still feel is their people? They still love everyone in our congregation and don't have issues with any of us. And yet it sounds like we're not worth the struggle. It sounds like they'd rather trade us in for new people whose issues aren't as obvious, than to stick with people they love and keep fighting for our community. It really hurts to be discarded because it takes work.

Healing from church hurt is a slow process. I feel like I heal a little bit, and then something happens and the scab is ripped off again, often taking some extra skin with it. And its deep. It's not a surface wound. It feels like this is happening at the core of my being. I'm tired of being hurt. I'm tired of people leaving.

We learned on the weekend that another church, who is also part of the organization we just left, is moving into our building. They're taking our place in our community - a community which was a large part of our original vision. That really, really hurts. 

Why do we live here if this particular neighbourhood isn't relevant to our vision anymore? Does God even want our little community to stay together and keep trying if another church is taking our place anyway? Did we fail the assignment and have been replaced? Do we need to find a new vision? What is our future? And how can I drive past that building regularly without it feeling like a stab in the back every time?

Another question I have: what if our community doesn't survive this time of transition? We have had quite a large turnover of people in our community over the past five years. The building has helped bring new people in from our community to replace those leaving. If we have the same rate of people leaving in the next five years without the building to bring people in, what then? Our vision is to be salt and light in our community, to grow our community through relationships with those around us, which is slow fruit. Slow fruit is grown in years and decades, not in months. What if we die out before we get to the point of bringing new people in??

So if this community fizzles, or we decide to be done, where does that leave us? You certainly wouldn't find us walking through the doors of an institutional church anytime soon. This community - and type of community - that we have is unique and hard to find...and yet it feels like how the church is supposed to be. Where do you even start looking for something like that?

It really feels like we're swimming against the current constantly these days. We are tired. We are so so tired. My body just feels heavy. I am clinging desperately to hope that God is doing something cool here. Because many days I feel like my hope is slipping away. I find myself wanting to just walk away and be done with the struggle. Why don't I? Because I believe that if this works out, it'll be so amazing. I believe God can do really great things with people who are willing to swim upstream. It's just hard to know if this is one of those swims that God will use or if we will just struggle and struggle and eventually just drown. I feel dangerously close to drowning some days. 

Are we being faithful? Or do we just not know when to stop? That is the question and the heartache these days.