When the Church Kid Stops Going to Church

… or, at least, going as much as she used to

I'm finding more and more that my spiritual and “normal” life are one and the same thing. They intermingle and mix and dance together far more than I even realize. The best mornings are honestly the ones where I wake up and pray over my agenda- over zoom calls or meetings or posts or just random, seemingly “unholy” things. It was genuinely eye-opening with one of my favorite Instagram follows, Gabi Llewlyn mentioned praying over her daily agenda in her stories- every lil dot and mundane bit of it. Because God’s already in all of it, so might as well see Them there. It was especially helpful because, as I’d just left my obviously spiritual ministry job- the role of God in my new normal life felt a little mysterious. Even when I was just printing paper or writing invites, the purpose of my work as a kid’s ministry intern was spiritual- where, now, was it? I’m writing blogs and going to meetings and honestly not even thinking about “spiritual” things at all- what does that have to do with God, the universe + everything? Well, everything. 

When quarantine hit and it was pretty much just God and me- no InterVarsity, no kid’s church, no Awana, no curriculum, no church halls 12 hours a week- we refound each other. Well, I refound God. My morning psalms were rich and dense and urgent. I found worship music I loved and could sing and just absorb endlessly. I started having a set Sabbath and those are still some of my most beloved days of 2020. I used to go on daily walks with my mom, listening over and over to the same two Liturgist meditations, Vapor and Sunday, and falling in love with every second of them- stepping barefoot on cement tiles as I discovered what the Spirit’s voice in my soul really felt like. Something I’d thought you’d only discover bawling your eyes out at youth camp, when actually it’s not that formulaic or dramatic. I’m a little removed from all those habits now, but I’m so, so grateful for when they were so natural and set in me. But, God’s here too. I still know when the Spirit talks in me. I hear it when I’m at peace, when I feel pain I didn’t know I could, when I bring up words I know I didn’t conjure myself. 

It feels weird to call these things “God”. I grew up with a foot in two worlds- church and outside church. Places where you used two different vocabularies and two different names for things. I learned how to jump between- being bilingual in church speak and normal-world speak. Then, I learned how to translate- how to say the same thing with the two different languages, conveying their meaning and worth to either side. And now, I’m learning how to just be. How to let the divide fall into more of a wide open field- a much more beautiful field in my opinion. Where there are no walls, just homes and hopes. I’m learning that social media can be spiritual and your “inner voice” can be the Holy Spirit- and you can name it something similar and not sound too crazy. 

And I’m finding, even now, in a time and daily life that may look “spiritually dry” to a more traditional view, it’s actually something totally different. I’m learning how to see God in everything, in the soil and roots and blooms of everything in my life- tagged “spiritual” or not. For someone who has a penchant for the poetic, it bewilders me it took me so long to name the “unspiritual” spiritually valuable and rich. 

This meshing of my worlds is why I’ve adored people like Emily P. Freeman so much- who effortlessly and soulfully merge the practical and the spiritual- seeing God in your daily decisions and even your weekly planner. It wasn’t all one world or another- but both. A place where she spoke both on Jesus and on how to weigh life’s opportunities without saying a single church-coded word at all, closing out podcasts by praying over the regular, everyday elements of our lives.

I found a similar comfort in Bridgetown Daily podcasts, short daily words from the church John Mark Comer pastors in Portland. There was one a while back called “Stay in Your Cell.” It’s a phrase borrowed from an old monk who told his students that if they wanted to find God- they needed to stay in their cell and listen. It sounds drastic, but what he meant was- live your normal life. A cell was a monk’s room, so he was saying that we should stay in our waking, sleeping, working life and listen for where God already is- because They are there already. God doesn’t only show up when we ask. We’re not that important. They just want us to show up too. And it was so, so liberating to hear this- to hear that a monk from centuries back had figured out what I was silently trying to puzzle together. That I wasn’t the only one to live my normal, everyday, basic life and feel like God was already there- without any spiritual lace or trimmings. Perhaps that’s what Paul meant when he told us to pray without ceasing- not close our eyes and bow our heads all the time but open them and look up. To be in constant conversation and communion with the God who already is and was and will be, wherever we are. God isn’t only contained in the pages of the Bible or the walls of a church or even in the company of believers- They are everywhere. They leave marks of themself everywhere, just like Romans 1 says. He imprints our souls with them, spewing Scripture out of a woman who’s hardly sat down with the Good Book in a couple months- but it’s in me. I have my whole life to learn and love the word- and more importantly- the world I’m already in. And even more importantly, the God and Spirit who’s with me everywhere I go and who is moving and working and loving without ceasing. 

This conversation between my morning routine and my soul’s depths- or wherever the hyper-practical and hyper-spiritual meet- is ongoing but also beautiful and human. I’ve loved this season with my God and knowing that He’s here- in printing rooms, half bedroom-half offices, random parks, morning commutes, and even Instagram posts. I know I don’t have all the answers, and honestly, that’s my favorite thing. I know I never will this side of Heaven. So, until then, I’ll just stay in my cell- and listen

As always, I’m sensitive and aware of the nuances and pains someone can bring into any sort of spiritual or religious-coded conversation. Please never take my experience as the only one or my word as daggers against you or your experience. If I touched on anything that’s, well, touchy- for good or bad- my messages are always open. And thank you for holding space for my experiences as well.

Updated Note: I wrote this in peak pandemic when church was in my living room. I am back to attending my home church with my parents on Sundays, but- as far as my general spiritual life, this still is definitely where my soul is at. Honestly, even just only being at church one hour a week is huge difference from my life before, so- this stills feels accurate to share.