My Story- Part 6

This part of my story was a transition. It is also the time in my life that is most exciting because I met and married the man I call my husband (and he’s the best!). God definitely used him as a catalyst, which is evident in my side of our story. As I came out of my fog, or probably partially while I was still in it, I tried to relate to God in ways that made sense to me. I rejected the angry God of my youth, I didn’t think it could possibly be all about “rules” and what you don’t do. And I was right there. I couldn’t bear to think that all my bad decisions had put me at odds with God. I still believed he was real. I just didn’t know how to relate to Him. 

I started attending Revolution Church in Little Five Points. If you are familiar with Little Five Points, it was kind of the neighborhood of Atlanta where those who thought of themselves as different hung out. There were punks, bikers, in-betweens, and just a good mix of “alternative” folks. I heard Jay Bakker preach and it resonated with me. If there’s anyone who has a “right” to craft a reactionary theology and go look for the good, it’s the son of Jim and Tammy Faye, amiright? If you don’t know the story- you can find it HERE. He was definitely critical of Christian fundamentalism, and he had his reasons. At the time, he was not openly preaching inclusivity or unorthodox teaching at that time, but he was focused on love. There were a lot of people in the room who did not look like people at most churches. We posted signs that said “I’m sorry” for the hate and vitriol most Christians were aiming at large groups of people at the time (the homosexual community being the biggest). I saw this as doing something right. As I cleared from my fog, Revolution started losing steam, Jay Bakker moved to New York to launch another ministry there.

But. This was my gateway to the Emergent church. 

The movement that didn’t all in all reject the label of Christianity, but certainly the norms that it was known for. What could be better? Caring for the poor, not idolizing the pastor or preacher, calling in to question how the church operated and why, these were all great characteristics of the movement. But little by little the questioning started to delve into questions regarding the validity of scripture, the truth of creation, the person of Jesus. A movement that asked good questions suddenly had me asking even more questions, without giving any answers to my first set of questions, except to say “we” needed to do better. Well. Certainly. 

I was still attending regular “church,” but my heart was not in it. As I pulled away into a faith that felt more right for me, I also kept at the back of my mind that I needed whatever “this” was. I don’t think giving up on faith was ever an option for me, but I questioned a lot. As I met, dated and married my husband, his story made faith more real to me than ever. Andy has an incredible story, of addiction, battling almost every kind of abuse imaginable, but still having a hope? Being saved and delivered? That couldn’t be for nothing. And, well, that was enough to make me think. He asked me questions and I thought more. As I answered his questions about God and faith and went on his journey with him, I decided, I guess I really do believe all this stuff. At this point, my story really becomes our story, and I am probably going to have him jump in here and share with you his side of this period soon.

Although we were in a traditional church space, we saw ourselves and self-described as progressive Christians, and we dreamed of a day where church wouldn’t be confined to the spaces and ways that we saw it. 

We read Tony Campolo and Shaine Claiborne and Brian McLaren and lamented all the ways that Christians were mean-spirited. “We” were not living up to our call to care for orphans and widows. Instead, Bible thumping and telling those who questioned their sexuality they were wrong and going to hell seemed to be the norm. Caring way more about the speck in others’ eyes than the plank in our own. We, Andy and I, cared about people who had little and we didn’t view it as their fault. Before having kids we would go to Atlanta and give out sandwiches and visit with the homeless to celebrate New Year’s Eve. We were called idealists, sure, but we wanted to live in a more loving way.

I knew Christians (And had been one at the wee age of 14) who were intent on pointing out every sin of others but I never saw them do any self reflection or show public signs of repentance. I know I cannot judge their private lives, but I am only sharing what I observed. So, if the Bible was just a rule book, God was angry at people because they weren’t following the rules. Enter people who told us there was another way to follow Jesus that all at once was more loving and kind, so yep, we wanted to sign up.

We were so happy, so naive, when we got married, but in many ways it was also a very HARD year. My parents’ divorce was final. My grandfather passed away. And then… the church split. Not to mention some very unhealthy habits of my own that probably made my husband question my sanity at times.

As we entered our first year of marriage we were both increasingly frustrated with church though. Not God, but his people. We loved many of them, and to list and thank all the people who were for there for us during our early years would be too many. God was definitely there, providing direction and guidance in the way of his people, but as my parent’s divorce became news for public consumption, well, sin that can be gawked at has a really weird way of bringing out the worst in Christians…. The church we were in, pastored by my dad, failed in an epic and ugly way. We were left without a church family and suddenly there were certain people who I didn’t feel at ease with (certainly there were certain people who were very kind, but others who shunned us because we didn’t shun my dad). So….without a church home and with little to no “spiritual family” left, our search for a better way continued.