I don’t even know where to start. The church I have loved since we moved here is closing its doors on Sunday. And I mean that figuratively, because it’s a mobile church – we met at a high school. So there really aren’t doors to close. All I know is, it’s tearing me up. My heart is absolutely broken.
We’ve known it was coming for a few months. I don’t want to get in to how it came to be, but suffice to say we went through some turmoil and didn’t fare well. Our numbers have dwindled. People are tired and worn out. Friends are gone. So this week we are having a service of reflection and thanksgiving for what has been, and then we will move on. I will bring a box of tissues, because this is pretty much going to rip my heart right open.
I’ve been a mess of emotions. Half of me is ready to move on. Half of me wishes I had some kind of “Oh Captain, My Captain” speech to give from a desktop to rally the troops. This was the first church that I really felt called to – like I was 100% where I was supposed to be. Obviously it wasn’t perfect, but it just felt like it was my best fit. I’ve left a church before, when it was no longer a fit for me or when I moved. But I’ve never even known anyone whose church has closed – I have no precedence to follow. It’s one thing to leave a church, and know they’re going on just fine without you. There’s something comforting about the power and sovereignty of God in that. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about this. If you’d asked a few months ago, depending on the day, I might have said I was ready to find something new. No, I’m sure I would have. It was a lot of work and stress. But now that this week is here, I’m having some trouble letting go. A lot of trouble.
I know God is bigger than this. I’ve seen what he can do with a broken heart. I’ve gotten my own rainbow promise before. I know we’ll find a new church home. I know there will be good that comes from it. And I wish that made this less sad, and somehow easier.