The Crowbar and The Miner's Canary

So, I recently had this odd little revelation of conciliatory identification. It's an odd one, so hang tight:

I've had some of the worst "church" experiences in my life these past few years. Odd things, rumors about which would instill fear at best and hopelessness at worst - such things would transpire at this strange little place that I had called my "church". I often wondered why, oh why did God have me here, and I often discussed leaving with my husband -- but each time one or the both of us would feel like we needed to stay.

Well, these past few months, as the attendees in our large sanctuary dwindled down to eight adults and seven kids... I began to wonder. Does nobody like me? Does everybody hate me? Must I go eat worms? ...surely, it's my singing, yes? or my wardrobe? my kids or my husband? ... do I smell funny?

So, I began to think that God brought us here to be a crowbar. Yes. We came so that we could stand in stark contrast to those around us... poor yet blessed is not something these people understood. Young yet educated? Funky yet orthodox? I work outside the home? We've followed God's calling to the detriment of our finances? What?? AND we expect people to participate in God-stuff at times other than 9-12 am on Sunday mornings? egads!

-- and so people began to leave. They moved off to find churches where they could be comfortable, or powerful, or be happy, or whatever.

Soon, I began to feel used by God, like a temporary tattoo on the arm of a kid in a sprinkler -- looked nice for a while, but it couldn't stand the dribbles and was ripped to shreds. This is not a good feeling, and so I sang my self-pity song: Big ones, Fat ones, Skinny ones, Juicy ones, look at the little ones squirm!

But, one morning as I lay in bed wondering "How long, oh Lord? How long?", it dawned on me: This "church" was sick for a long time before we got here. I haven't been the crowbar as much as I've been The Miner's Canary. Yup. You know those little birds that were taken down into the mines? They weren't there to whistle while you worked, they were there so that if there was poison in the air, they'd die first. They were the warning signs so that the miners could make a run for it.

I've always been an empathetic person. I'll pick up on the emotional vibes first and then realize what's happening later. So, as this "church" has been dying... it's been killing me.

Now, I'm a big fan of being Christlike and all that, but this is ridiculous. Well, the end is near, and at least I haven't turned green & gone belly up. Yet.