Dear Church,
It’s over between us.
There, I said it.
I know this will probably come as a surprise to you, given your propensity to believe that you are God’s gift to the world. Heck, I even believed that myself for a while.
You dressed up all nice for me and flashed me an irresistible smile when I first walked into the room. You invited me out for coffee after the service and introduced me to all your friends. You made me feel like I belonged. Before too long, we were going steady.
Every week we would catch up and spend hours together. We’d talk about life, love and the universe. Actually — now that I think about it — you would talk and I’d just listen. You loved me to just sit there and listen and take on board everything you were saying. And, to be fair, you taught me plenty of valuable lessons.
But I had questions, too. Not everything made sense to me. I started to notice that there were things that you did, that didn’t seem to line up with the things that you’d say. But, when I questioned you about it, you just became defensive. “The Bible says so!” You would say, or “Just trust me!”
In the end, I learned to keep my doubts about you to myself. I would put on my mask, check my pain out at the door and pretend that everything was fine. God forbid we should actually talk about our real problems. Consequently, ours is not a deep relationship. In fact, we never really grew past the point of superficial niceness.
Don’t get me wrong. On the surface, we did share lots of good times, but only inasmuch as I never expected too much from you. Yet, at the same time, you always seemed to want a lot from me. In fact, at some point — I can’t exactly put my finger on when — you began to put the heavy on me.
You asked me to lay down my life for you. So I did. I gave you the best years of my life — forsaking all others. You talked about commitment again and again — promising a greater life for us. And I believed you and doubled down in my efforts to please you.
Before too long, you began to prescribe for me what I could and could not do, what was good and what was bad, who I could see, where I could go and what I could spend my money on.
Ah yes… the money. It bothered me how often you would ask me for money. Every single week, you’d ask for more. Sometimes I didn’t want to give you my hard-earned cash, but you made me feel like I had to— like I was a bad person if I said no.
So, I toed the line for you. And as long as I put on a smile, played my part and never questioned your authority, you were happy with me. But, the more I got to know you, the more I began to suspect that your love for me was not genuine. I began to wonder if I was just your trophy partner. Yet, in spite of my questions, in spite of my doubts, when others said bad things about you, I would leap to your defense. And I gave my all in service to you.
And where did it get me?
Nowhere.
On the day when I really need you, you vanished. When I needed a helper, you were gone. We I needed someone to stand beside me, you were too busy with all your important work. When I needed someone to defend me — like I defended you — you were silent.
And, when I finally plucked up the courage to walk away from you, you didn’t pursue me. Instead, you began to spread rumors about my unfaithfulness to you while simultaneously searching for unwitting new partners to prop you up. I realized that — just below a thin veneer of fake concern— you are unbearably selfish, arrogant, corrupt and self-serving.
Believe me when I say that writing this letter brings me no joy whatsoever. I wanted you to be everything you promised you would be — Oh, how I desperately wanted that! But, in the end, I have learned that you are simply broken and you need to change. How I do hope that you change.
And, in case you are wondering, I have met someone else. He loves me and he treats me with honor and respect. He is intensely interested in my personal growth, but he’s not controlling and manipulative. He calls me out when I do stupid stuff but without being judgmental or condemning. He doesn’t need me to pretend. He doesn’t mind when I question him. Best of all, he doesn’t ask anything of me that he isn’t prepared to give. He is my help. He is my defender.
His name is Jesus.
I hope you get to meet him someday.
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This post was previously published on Backyard Church and is republished here with permission from the author.
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