Once upon a time, I used to go to church regularly. First of all I was motivated by the student company – and that I was missed when I wasn’t there. Then I moved, and went to a smaller church. I wasn’t so sure of things there; there were no students, and the teaching was sometimes offensive, and rarely challenging. But I stayed until something awful happened, and the church disintegrated.
Nowadays, I rarely attend. A few months ago, the whole experience bordered on too much emotionally, and that was my excuse: I couldn’t hack it. But I’m in a different place now. I can siphon off the emotion, and sit, composed, through a service. But still I don’t go regularly.
I dream up all sorts of reasons for not going. I’m not around on a Sunday evening’, (what about a morning service) I get to see my partner so little as it is ‘ (he *might* like to come, too), ‘church isn’t that important’ (is that why your faith is waning like the hot coal thrown from the fire?) ‘I don’t like having to talk to lots of people I barely know’ (so don’t then – or get to know them), ‘I don’t have time to give to service in the church’ (well, either don’t get involved in that way – or *make* time, like you make time for Facebook and Waterloo Road).
None of the excuses stand up when they’re examined as above. And yet they keep coming. Everytime I think about church, there is some apparent reason why it woudn’t be a good idea this week. Plain truth is that I’m scared. I’d love to be part of a church, but getting in there – getting to know people, making a commitment to attend, to be taught things that I won’t always agree with, as “fact” (especially in the Baptist church)- scares me.