The Hearts and Eyes of the Church Are Open

As strong as our walls may appear to be; there are powers that would challenge them. Ways we try to protect our hearts that usually prove to be unsuccessful, yet we try. I have been a member of the church since I was a child. I blindly and boldly followed those who led me. As I matured in age and faith I learned to separate the truth of the Word from the chaff of personal preference, systemic practices, and cultural influenced evolution. Eventually, like scales falling from my eyes another realm was reached. Taken captive by the truly evident freedom of spiritual awakening that I experienced at churches not bound by cultural oppression masked as depth of piety. This new platform was found in a predominantly white evangelical church. My faith was challenged by a doctrine that empowered me as a deity because Christ engrafted me. In contrast with the treatment of earthly vessels not worthy to be heard. The juxtapose position that I faced because my earthly temple was adorned in different decor was dismissed, ignored, pushed away with justification of spiritual perspective evolution. This new dynamic would shake my faith. This revelation would cause me to take pause in order to process the wallop of reality. The very people who blessed His heart on my behalf showed no empathy for those who shared my melanin as they were literally murdered on in front of us. It is not that they lacked the capacity for empathy, grace, or just acknowledgement. I was encouraged to sow into the Holy Land while we made connections to the Word of God with incidents taking place in real time. I do not begrudge these prophecies unfolding. I just could not understand how black and brown people did not ignite the same vein of compassion. Like the scraping of a scab, the shift in climate of politics helped to reveal these festering perspectives. I have been wounded by the very institution that was supposed to be a haven. Understanding we are all earthly creatures operating under grace with a wide girth for error. It is not that I put the church on a pedestal. The church is made up of people. At the same time how do we send thousands of dollars to Africa but, you cannot tell the officer in the congregation to lead with his heart and, not his gun? I am mandated to love my neighbor who makes offhand comments in support of political platforms that outwardly disrespect minorities. Who do I trust? Who do I believe? Who is the real you? This outcome has reinforced a mistrust in people that was birthed years before I joined a church. The agonizing experiences that molded my view of the world B.C. Now, not fully healed I am arrested by the duality found in the concept of church. Like, forming relationships with your ex’s family. i surrendered to Christ. In addition to my personal spaces i also worship Him with the church. i was angry at Him because He knew the scales would fall the day He held me and, declared this new body my home. The Omniscient GOD knew in my mother's womb this church that fed me, clothed me, would deny the rest of my identity. i was angry with the two faced, insensitive, ignorant manner in which my body made mockery of the oppression i knew first hand as we sat around televisions, campfires, and fellowship meetings. The thing is i still look to Christ. Stumbling so in a myriad of vices like an adult child having a tantrum. i know in my heart of hearts my safety is in Christ. So, alas though I still do not feel safe enough to rest in the laps of the church. My resolution is to attend again. The LORD desires that i assemble. i have to extend the same grace to people who make up the body; HE is extending me. With the same sense of proximity connection; I have to allow my lens of the LORD to not be blurred by those who do not represent HIM well. The same way I expect those who see me spiraling out of control to not mistake my fall from grace as a reflection of GOD’s capacity to carry me.