Is There a Version of Christianity That I Could Love With My Whole Heart?
I never thought I'd come to this, what's it all about?
My heart is longing for something. I can almost feel its shape when I close my eyes. Since Easter, I’m feeling strangely and unexpectedly invited to seek a version of the Christian God that I could fall in love with. One that would not require me to abandon myself, but rather hold my wholeness in tender embrace. One that would honor, celebrate, and adore my body, that would like me as a person, genuinely enjoy my company, and want to know me at least as much as I want to know Him.
The God I grew up with was not like this at all, but something tells me this just can’t be His only face.
I must confess, it’s easier for me to believe that God could be all of these things, than to hope that I can find them in His church. When interacting with God’s representatives in this world I rarely had a chance to taste the divine qualities they talked about like unconditional love for all creation. For years the church and I grew increasingly disappointed with each other, until at one point I just gave up. Why would I need a middleman to butcher up God’s message when I could meet Him personally on my own terms?
And yet, my heart is longing for a church that’s neither a gatekeeper nor a middleman, just a congregation of sovereign people united in devotion to our Creator. A living, breathing organism that keeps growing and evolving since the beginning of time and will continue for centuries after we’re gone. A church of spiritual adults who bravely carry their light to all the darkest places. A church where institutions and authorities exist to serve.
I’ve been fine talking to God personally on my own, but I want more. I can only go so far all by myself, and I can’t raise my children properly without surrounding them by holy people. It’s high time I admit there is a church-shaped hole in my life. None of the churches I know so far could fill it, but it’s not enough reason for me to stop looking.
I want a church that comes together because we’re overflowing with love for this world and its Creator rather than out of fear. I want brothers and sisters of all ages, ethnicities, personalities, and walks of life to come together united in our desire to become holy. I want us to inspire, support, listen, guide, and hold each other, to sing and laugh and dance and cry and mourn and celebrate together. I want us to throw a warm welcome party for every new baby, and to quietly hold the hands of those who are grieving.
I want a church that’s in love with this world and this life, joyfully building together Heaven on this Earth. I want us to become the Divine body, the hands, minds, hearts, breasts, and wombs through which God can act, that will build, imagine, love, nurture, and give birth to the most beautiful creation. I want us to return to the Garden of Eden, but as gardeners this time, joyfully tending to this piece of Paradise that we’ve been trusted with.
I want us to keep losing our lives and finding them again, to boldly take up space and joyfully surrender. To bombard new moms and their babies with love and frozen meals, to raise and educate our children together, to walk on long pilgrimages where we burn campfires and sing for long hours under the starry sky. I want us to put shrines on every corner so that we always remember about God’s infinite love. I want us to build cathedrals more beautiful that anything we’ve ever seen, a pinnacle of our art, science, thought, and technology. I want us to use and grow our precious talents in a way that’s enriching to the whole.
I didn’t trust God that a church like this is possible, but I’ve underestimated Him. Surely I can’t be the only one.
There is an old woman at my church, about 90. Her face is wrinkled and her movements are stiff. She is the wife of the priest who died last year, her partner of over 60 years.
We had a new younger couple visit, and when they met her they decided to stay. (Pearl, she goes by. Beautiful name.) She greeted them with a smile, and embraced them and kissed them on the cheek and called them "sweetie". She asked where they were from and told them they were welcome.
These are small things. They sound so ordinary. But she does them in such a holy way. You can feel the love radiate off of her. I'm sure her body hurts. I'm sure she will die in not so many more years. But she is focused on other people, not herself. She is not scared of death. She has a peaceful heart and is faithful to the Lord.
When my baby son was born, I brought him to her to meet and to kiss. There is no formal authority for a priest's widow to bless. But I can smell holiness when the scent is strong enough, and I want her blessing on my child.
Could we all be like this? Could we all achieve such a refreshing demeanor, gentle and loving? Is this what it looks like to have the Holy Spirit?
Christianity is a religion of the heart. And the church, properly conceived, is a factory for the production of beautiful souls. Good luck on finding your place, and becoming all that you could be.
I am rooting for you! I hope you find it and narrate the journey 🙏❤️😊
I share this desire. One of my callings is to cultivate this type of community. There is a form of “church” in my life that is in the mustard seed stage, where I seek out and I nurture connections with others who share my desire. It doesn’t look like much, and it certainly doesn’t conform to our ideas of church, with stained glass or even a building. But it is growing roots. And maybe someday it will be a tree that birds can perch in. May you find your perch!