I was a pastor for several years – helping lead a growing church in Colorado Springs. Then we moved to Beirut. I fell in love with Jesus. In love with Arabs. In love with Muslims. In love with my wife and kids. But…out of love with churches. I saw so much pain. So much confusion. We started “The Olive Grove.” Never called it “church.”
When we moved back to the states, we started going to a church here in Denver – it was close to our house. Had people. Talked about God. Seemed nice enough. But then they had a nasty church split. And we were mostly friends with those who left. They all wanted us to leave too. We stayed. We were committed.
Chris got involved. I travel a lot, so, I didn’t. Chris liked it. I didn’t so much. But we stayed. We were committed.
Now I’ve always believed that there is a People of God. A community of Believers. The “Church Universal.” The Bride of Christ. The Family. And that they do meet regularly in specific locales. But I don’t like the word “Church” like I don’t like the word “Christian.” But soon I found myself actually not liking church. Or at least not “mine.”
I wasn’t against it. The pastors and wives are good friends. The people are great. I dunno – I think it may have been me. Okay…it was me. Last Sunday our pastor spoke on bitterness. As I searched my heart – good news – not bitter at anyone. Oh, wait. What was that? This church? I have a bad attitude towards “my church?” Hmmm….could be. Not saying, but maybe…..
Okay, I was busted by God on Sunday. I confessed it and immediately felt better. Funny thing how that confession thing works. So this is my confession to the world. I love my church!
Is it perfect? Of course not. Am I perfect? 🙂
