I still haven't found what I'm looking for

*originally written February 15, 2007*

I moved to Euless, TX in May of 2001 and started attending the first church that I visited. I didn't even "shop" around. It was a large, local, Baptist church with a decent sized singles department. They were (mostly) biblical and I learned some things, and though I'm a little hesitant to admit it now, it met my social needs. I got to know a few people, made some friends, and made it "my" church; without scrutiny and without ever knowing what I was looking for…or even stopping to ask the question.

I attended there for four years total, but after probably two and a half I felt that tug in my heart telling me that I needed to leave. It's hard to describe. Anyway, I think what kept me there beyond that time was a really cool, dynamic singles minister, all of my friends, and a smidge of laziness. The cool, dynamic minister felt called to church plant and left in early '05. His replacement - while an intelligent, good-hearted guy - just didn't have the same…dynamic range. I stuck around for a few more months, but in April of '05 the tug was too strong and I decided to leave. It had almost nothing to do with the new minister, absolutely nothing to do with the pastor scandal, and virtually everything to do with me figuring out why I had that little tug in my heart.

Ultimately, I left because I believed deep down that something serious was missing at the large, local, Baptist church. (Obviously, many of you will know where I'm talking about, but I don't want this blog to ever pop up on a Google search of this church). The element that I perceived as missing was Faith. Missing faith? At a church? Yep.

Oh, there was faith enough to believe that God is active in our lives; and faith enough to believe that He will save those who confess their sin, repent, and accept him; and faith enough to think that God will pair them up with "the one" (which He never promises BTW). But what I also found was complacency and a tolerance of mediocrity. I heard "small" prayers for "big" things, and saw shoulder shrugs with a "golly, I sure hope so" attitude. When I was dealing with some health issues, someone there actually told me that they prayed that I would "be able cope with the situation". Please, if you are going to try and put my completely unlimited God into a shoebox, that's your business, don't go and tell me about it. Why not instead pray for something so big, so amazing, that if it is granted, you immediately know who is responsible, and who is worthy to be praised?

Anyway, I left.

Some of my friends didn't quite understand. And I was even criticized for not staying and trying to change the place where I was. But as one of the few people on the planet whose opinion I value said, "You have to go where you're fed". Yet, other friends understood completely. Try and understand too that my ENTIRE social circle was at that church, and leaving was difficult despite everything I've described above.

I searched for a place where there would be true expectation for the miraculous. A place that would be dynamite compared to the shovel that I came from. For a while, I was convinced that I found it. The church I visited had an in-your-face, lets-see-what-God-will-do kind of faith. I cannot comment on the condition of anyone's heart, but the outward appearance was amazing. They prayed for tens of thousands of souls to be saved at the altars there; they prayed for instant, miraculous healings in public for all to see, they prayed for true, uncontainable revival to fall. From what I could tell, it was pretty awesome.

I started attending on Saturday nights so I could sleep in on Sunday morning. At the end of the Saturday service they would have "special prayer" and anyone who wanted individual prayer could go to the front and someone would pray individually with them. I usually left before this started but I stuck around for this one night and as folks were prayed for, most of them would fall to the ground like they passed out; some would shake. This was something that I had not seen and deciding that I didn't want to miss out on something from God, I went forward with an open heart and received prayer. I didn't end up on the floor, and considering what was going on around me, I felt a little self conscious about it.

I wanted to find out more about this thing I'd never seen so I decided to attend a Wednesday service. It wasn't really a service so much as a prayer meeting, and let's just say that my Baptist upbringing didn't really prepare me for this. When they prayed, they would all do it at once. And I mean everyone, out loud, all-at-once, different, individual prayers. Let's also just say that for someone as auditory as I am, it was a really serious distraction. But in the midst of the noise I heard a couple people speaking in "tongues". Since I couldn't concentrate, I listened to them. They seemed to be louder than the rest. I thought it was odd. It sounded like repetitious babbling to me. I didn't do the prayer meetings any more, but kept attending the church.

I got to know one of the pastors there, and even met up with him for coffee a couple of times. I had questions, he had answers. Though they didn't carry a denomination in their title, they were a charismatic church, and believed that "the" evidence of being filled with the Holy Spirit was the use of "tongues". While I certainly believe that God still grants tongues to some folks, I have read the supporting scripture and do not believe that it is "the" evidence, I believe that it is simply "a" gift.

I don't know what kept me at the charismatic church for so long, but I wound up spending a year and a half there. But what I realized, after that long, was that I never got comfortable, it just never seemed to fit. I went to worship God but I usually wound up just watching other people and wondering if they were genuine. I'd sit in the back and hit the door at "amen". I asked God to allow me to experience Him like the others there did. I never did. I reached the conclusion that the majority of what I saw in others there was the consummation of desire, zeal, and expectation. May God forgive me if I'm wrong, but I concluded that most, if not all, of the people that fell, shook, or spoke in "tongues" did so because they expected to, and they saw others doing it; or perhaps they thought others expected them to.

So, I left.

I don't know if leaving was right, or if I'm missing out on something great that God had planned. I don't know if He led me there and I decided to turn my back on it. All I know is that it just never felt right. What I want - the only thing I really care about - is experiencing God in a way that is real, and true, and complete. The Baptist church felt like something was missing. The charismatic church felt like something had been added. I believe that the truth is probably somewhere in the middle.

I'd like to see the churches that are prim, and stiff and structured and boring like large, local, Baptist church to begin to loosen up and be real while they seek Christ. Maybe start laying hands on the sick and expecting them to recover instead of praying that they can "cope"; maybe raise some hands in the air in worship; maybe actually NOT standing up just because someone else does it; maybe having some actual faith instead of the "shoulder shrug" kind. I'd like to see the charismatic church get back to what is real instead of what I perceive as silliness. I'd like to see us all seek God in a way that is real, and whole, and honoring to Him.

I'm "in between" churches right now. Still looking for something I haven't found. I visited the Baptist church again recently, and though it immediately felt comfortable, it was still the same old thing. Like my dad used to say, "same song, second verse". I'm tempted to go back there to try and change things, but that just puts the onus on me, and I myself am not really capable of anything.

I don't know what the answer is yet. But I can't help but keep looking.

"Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened." ~Jesus

Purpose of this Blog

Belligerāre is a Latin word; an infinitive that means “to wage war”. But I don’t mean for the title of my blog to describe guns, bombs, country vs. country, or occupation; however, there are definitely soldiers, sides, victories and losses.

What I’m referring to is what I call “The Struggle”; which is my extreme paraphrasing of this human condition. I believe that it is our struggles that shape us more so than our victories. The struggle may be external, involving relationships, work, friends and church. Or the struggle may be internal, involving self-doubt, self-esteem, wrestling with God & faith, or even questioning your own sanity.

The victories may be what we remember, but I believe that it is the struggle that molds us.

Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t necessarily want Belligerare to be a bunch of doom & gloom. There will be posts about good stuff and random stuff too. But I don't want to get too frilly with it.