The Road Ahead
When I became a Lutheran, it wasn't because someone argued me into it. I wasn't seduced by the ritual, the ambiance, the reverence, or the vestments. It wasn't the hymns or the friendly people who greeted me in the church. It wasn't the architecture, or the charisma of the pastor, the classes offered, or the events they put on.
It was the Word. Full stop.
No one tracked me down and dragged me in (though there were plenty who helped explain things as I went along.) I simply was convinced that the Bible was God's Word, and thus in a world that had been shaken upside-down, I knew it was the ultimate source of truth...so I studied it. And I found that, when interpreted using the same basic rules you'd use for understanding any other literary text (and understanding that God will not contradict Himself), the doctrines you end up with happen to line up with Confessional Lutheranism.
I praise God that I was brought into the Lutheran Church this way. Because if my beliefs were based on anything or anyone else...I'm not sure where I'd be at this point.
The truth is true, no matter who says it. It's true no matter what I feel. It's true, no matter how many people say otherwise.
God's Word is worth more than heaven and earth. His promises are more sure than the air that I'm breathing, than the keys under my fingers, than my fingers themselves.
Whatever hurt I've caused others, whatever hurt I've endured, whatever stress and tension and anguish and anxiety and pain and depression and disillusionment and anger and bitterness...these things, as awful as they are, do not undo the Truth.
Elsewhere in the world, there are Christians that must risk their very lives to gather at church. They suffer persecution and hatred, and make great sacrifices in order to come together, risking livelihoods and reputations to hear the Word and receive the Sacraments. What I must endure, in comparison, is small potatoes.
We so easily take our churches for granted. It's perhaps a chore to go. It doesn't cater to my needs like I want it to, so I'll pick a different one of the 40 options within driving distance (define that by the way, hmmm?) Being able to gather with others who share our confession of faith is such a profound blessing, and finding within the church walls relationships based around that confession is one of life's truest joys. To go to where Christ meets with us, joining in one voice as we sing hymns and chant Psalms, and together hearing the Word and receiving the Sacraments, to do so side by side in true unity...this is ultimately worth any amount of suffering and difficulty, discomfort or distance.
But...to have the joy of that camaraderie stripped away, to have mutual trust dashed, to cease to be greeted with joy...ah, this is hard. I would, cheerfully, walk through fire for the former. Perhaps, though, one's motivation for going must be refined by all of this. Do you really attend because you long for Christ's gift of forgiveness? Or is it the trappings that you're after?
I guess I'm answering that question now.
If you truly had to walk through emotional hell, in order to stand next to those you're in conflict with, to receive Christ's Word and His Blood from a man you weren't sure you trusted...and had to drive well over an hour each way to do so, not only without your husband, but without his (or anyone else in your family's) approval...would you still do it?
If there were no other option? And no end in sight?
Ah, truly, the rubber meets the road here.
And that answer is, and must be, "Yes."
It may be a long, wild ride, one that threatens to rapidly wear me down, even further than I already have been. I am not strong enough; but that doesn't matter. I must be, so I shall.
Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.
Keep me steadfast in the faith. Somehow. For my children's sake, if nothing else.
And please, PLEASE, fix this. I can't. I've tried my very, very hardest. I've got nothing left. But if this is what I must do, then I will do it. I had a part in making this bed, after all.
Jesus, be merciful to me. Remember me, your dear child, the one you poured out your very life for, the one you baptized and called your own. Do not let my trust in you fail. Give me the strength to endure, if endure I must. And please, grant reconciliation, if at all possible. My heart is so full of bitterness.
And, most of all, remember what You Yourself endured in order to bring me to yourself. Please, continue to bring me to where I can receive You. You not only literally walked through Hell (though in victory, not suffering), You drank the cup of the Father's wrath to the dregs, for me. You always receive me with open arms, with great joy. You bid me, "Come", when others shut me out. Where others put up walls and refuse to even talk in order to work things out, You took my sin and paid for it in full in Your own body on the Cross, so that there would be no walls between us. When I falter and shrink away from the pain, when I sinfully despise Your Word in favor of my own comfort and self-preservation...turn your eyes and look instead at the perfect obedience of Your Son, the Righteous One...my Righteousness.
He went joyfully to His Father's house.
(May I one day again be able to do the same.)
-M