This may surprise some folks, but my family and I aren’t going to a church right now. In point of fact, I haven’t been inside a church in just about three years. The closest church to our farm, Cedar Grove Church (a Baptist/Evangelical community church), is about five miles down the road. We attended a few Sundays when we first moved to Kentucky, but dropped off after a while. The pastor was friendly, as were a few of the folks, but after a while it just became hard to take or feel a part of, especially after a very politically minded sermon by a guest speaker one Sunday. There was also a group of women that had taken my wife’s testimony poorly and began giving her the cold shoulder. In addition, there was a rumor spread around that we had later heard about that we were growing cannabis in the house because of some grow lights in the window my wife had been using to grow some potted herbs inside (for the record, we weren’t). After that, and with my own personal past experiences, attending a church and just being a part of a local congregation is a difficult and exhausting proposition.
I’ve always had a complicated relationship with church. Not a complicated relationship with God, mind you, but a complicated relationship with church. As someone who has ASD, I have always been easily overwhelmed by people. Church is inherently a social experience, and for someone who simply can’t process all of that social information at once in real time, it can cause major sensory issues. I’ll admit, while my neurofeedback treatments did improve this for me immensely, too many people are still overwhelming and exhausting for me to navigate, especially when I don’t know them very well. This alone made the calling on my life to pastoral things even more of something that could only have been from God, and it is only when it is clearly the Spirit of Christ acting and speaking through me that it even goes well. You’d be surprised how many churches don’t want pastors who are honest about their neurodivergence.
In some ways, paradoxically, it is this calling that also keeps me away for now. I’m going to be a bit more vulnerable here. It hurts to attend church for me right now, and it hurts in a way that I think very few people can understand. I first felt that I wanted to enter some kind of ministry as either a missionary or a pastor when I was sixteen and attending the church I more or less grew up in, Bethany Bible Fellowship, but I first really “felt” my place in ministry when I first gave the Eucharist as a Catholic to those in a nursing home in Three Hills as a eucharistic minister. I remember that first time clear as a bell, and even now it starts to make my eyes tear up in so remembering. I began leading the eucharistic liturgy (of course without the consecration as they were already consecrated and I was only a layperson) and something else, the Spirit, took over. I wish I could adequately describe to you that experience. It was the first time that I really felt like, “Yes, this is what I’m supposed to be doing.” and then the, at the time, subversive feeling also came, “but I’m supposed to be saying the whole liturgy and consecrating it.” It was in that moment that my genuine role and calling was revealed to me, married though I was. I am drawn to serve sacramentally at the altar as both purpose and calling, and for various reasons at this point, I am not able to. This hurts, and is a wound that is more painful than I think most people would understand. It hurts to see others able to fulfill that role that I cannot. It hurts more to see them not understand the privilege that it really is, and especially when they’re abusing it or make it all about themselves when it is about stepping away from yourself and “channeling” Jesus Christ for others. I have had to walk out of a church service more than once to hide my near emotional breakdown over this.
But what about just attending a Bible Study or church group? This is a difficult proposition at best. First, it is difficult because, again, it is a social gathering and I still don’t always do well in social gatherings. Second, such gatherings are nearly always along theological lines that I no longer adhere to or feel comfortable with. I really don’t want to get into pointless arguments in the middle of a group of people. That serves no purpose and is detrimental to encouraging either the discipleship of others or my own. The third reason may sound arrogant, and I hope it doesn’t once I explain. Over the years, I’ve accumulated something like 236 undergraduate credits, most of which are in Bible and Theology. In addition, I’ve got 23 Master’s level courses in theology under my belt. I’ve studied and used the Biblical languages for almost thirty-five years. I continue to study, delving into anything and everything relevant to these topics that I can, and have done so for decades, writing about it prolifically. Put simply, because of my education (formal and informal) I usually know more than the teacher or group leader, and because of this I can all too easily say too much and dominate the group, possibly making the teacher look bad or like he or she doesn’t know what they’re doing. If I’m not exceptionally careful, I can undermine the group leader or pastor all too easily without even intending to, and that is not acceptable. For this reason, I generally need to remain mostly silent, and most of the time the teacher or leader is either not saying anything new to me, or at times is saying something I know to be erroneous in some way and it would be rude of me and embarrassing for them to correct them. I know this because I’ve made those mistakes before. Without being able to contribute much, and being exhausted by all of the social information and interactions, such groups can become more of a torture for me, especially with a new group of people that don’t know me and whom I don’t know. People have no idea how much I want to say and explain and can’t because of this. It is painful to be in those situations, especially having to take the position of a learner when the teacher simply doesn’t know enough about what he’s teaching, and this has happened all too often. To use an analogy, how would a person who’s studied calculus feel if they were forced to sit in a remedial math class learning “2+2” over again, especially when the teacher ignorantly insists the answer is “5”? Is it possible for them to say something I don’t already know? Of course, but it has been rare for a long time.
Finally, and more mundanely, I just don’t have the time. Church tends to occur during times of day when we’re out taking care of the animals in both the mornings and the evenings, and those chores tend to go for hours. There are no days off from them. Wednesday nights, when most church group meetings occur, we’re still doing chores and have to be up at 5am the next morning. Our only open time is in the middle of the day.
Maybe one day we’ll either find a church or I’ll start one where these things won’t be obstacles, but for now, they are. And so I attempt to teach, encourage, and “pastor” from my computer keyboard anyone whose path I run across. I write and share those things God puts on my heart, whether folks like what I have to say or not. And I attempt to put into practice everything I write about and preach from my keyboard, being the disciple of Jesus Christ I urge everyone else to be. Failing, correcting, and going again.