Who hurt you?
Why the Devil lives in the Church pews…
It all started so well…I remember walking to the church location from the metro checking my Google maps incessantly like it would switch up directions on me any second (which it actually can do). Five more minutes, I muttered to myself as I paced furiously through the very idyllic parks and modern homes to get to the church building. Then, lo, and behold, I turn the corner, and I see giant banners swaying with "Welcome Home" — You've arrived at what you've been looking for towards for so long. So not only did I arrive at a "hip" theater location now outfitted as a church but also at a place where I thought my weary soul would find rest from the world's constant battering.
I was slightly nervous about entering such a fantastic place with branding everywhere (that should've tipped me off), but I was happy to go in and get on with my church "experience." Two greeters ushered me into the plaza outfitted with a bar, a lounge room, and a place to put my coat. The music was blaring behind the closed doors, and it all sounded quite good. Once I was ready, the doors swung open to reveal a massive auditorium full of people with raised hands, swaying, jumping — praising the Lord, 21st-century style.
I was in awe…wooow…lights were flashing everywhere, cameras were zooming in and out, loud music was blaring, and the background setting was the stuff of film producers' dreams. This will be epic, I thought; a friendly usher guided me to an empty seat. Some people looked at me and smiled but most ignored me for the spectacle happening on stage and in the front. Another thing that I should've picked up on, but I stuck to my guns; this will be the One I determined.
Just like an enchanted starstruck young lover, I threw myself into everything the church had to offer. First, of course, I wanted to prove my boundless dedication to "the mission," but what was the mission? After many hours of attending seminars, services, and prayer meetings, I wasn't the clearer. They kept hammering on being a modern place to attract the lost. They prophesied all types of things for the future, chains being loosed, the lost just quickly mosying on in and getting saved by the strobe-laden worship services, and more, but year by year, the same people, for the most part, kept attending and people started leaving the church quietly. Mind you, this all did not deter me, and I kept pushing to see if I could move up the ranks in the church (doesn't that sound toxic to you already), but it was like I had hit the church ceiling and wasn't getting any farther with every event I attended.
Well, fast forward sometime later, I had fallen very ill and had to be hospitalized. This was a crucial time in my faith, and I needed the support from my faith community that I thought I had. But why was it people who had left that church or were one or two on the outskirts of what seemingly started to seem like a "hip" version of a cult only contacted me? The lack of support already broke me, but what jaded me was when I was back, and I had mustered enough strength to sit through a service. However, it was physically & mentally exhausting because I wanted to be close to God and His people — hoping for healing. When they made a prayer alter call, I went forwards only to discover that one of the people praying for me already knew who I was and used a very derogatory term for my condition.
That was the last straw for me. The "church" may have had its media production right because it invested heavily in it. Still, it should've spent the same capacity investing in its members to not be so callous with other parishioners when suffering from illness. The lack of empathy and care was so glaring that I walked out of the church, and after trying to appease someone, I came back only to see they invited a charlatan to preach who was all about people's money; I left and never returned. Good riddance, goodbye. What churches like these don't realize is that they really can help derail someone's spiritual walk. I spent three years in a spiritual wilderness, angry at God and angry at God's people for what they did to me. Finally, after fellow believers acknowledged the pain and that God softened my heart again, I realized that I could not depend on church people for my comfort.
Not to say that there aren't any good church or Christian initiatives out there. There are plenty. But I've now learned to discern them with the Spirit of God and not by their flashy lights and branding. So often, the best churches are small, humble, and quiet in what they do, but the love they shine through is so palpable that you see God in the pews instead of the Devil. So, for now, no more megachurches for me. I instead prefer to be in the company of thirty people who love God deeply than in thousands whose faith only goes skin-deep.
