Church confuses me.
I had a friend recently ask me: “What does God mean for the church in your life?” or something like that. I restrained myself from answering with something snide.
What is church about? Really.
I am a firstborn, so I did the right thing and went to church. I was very active in our church’s youth group. I sat on the second row at church growing up, I helped in Sunday school. In short, I was a church dork.
I went to college and was less dorky, and I think I’m even less dorky today. But where has all that time gotten me?
Bottom line: If the church is about pretending to be Superman while I have more in common with the Batman, I’m not interested. Let me explain.
If I have to pretend to be a superhero, polished, always hopeful and righteous, impervious to everything that comes my way, someone with the ability to make things right and who always does it, while inside I’m more a creature of the night, hiding who I really am and my secret struggles with a dark side, afraid of what I might do if there were no consequences.
This probably seems disjointed, but it’s where I am right now. I could polish it, but I don’t want to.