5 Reasons Our Family Backed Out of Church

My husband and I both grew up in “the church,” the diverse diaspora of American Christianity – and what a wild ride it was. His parents are Roman Catholic, but as a kid he sang in a Methodist choir, attended Quaker and Lutheran services, and tagged along when a friend got deep into an Evangelical congregation where people spoke in tongues, just to see what it was all about.

My parents didn’t go to church. Dad grew up Catholic and Mom – who went to college first – talked him out of it. But when I was 4, I asked to go to the big Presbyterian church we drove by on the way to the library. I wanted to know what happened in such a beautiful building, which eventually led my mother to rejoin the church after decades of atheism. Dad stuck by his decision for atheism, creating a rift with Mom that I think contributed to their divorce years later.

In grad school, I dug into feminist theology as an expression of leftist twentieth century philosophical trends. I needed my own understanding of God on terms I’d worked through for myself. The best expression I found of the nature of God was in adverb form: The Great Mysteriously.

I’ve attended Buddhist, Jewish, and a wide range of Christian worship services. To me, the quiet of Quaker meeting is the truest experience of the presence of the divine, but it’s not a great fit for toddlers. When we had kids, we began checking out churches. For a few years, we were very happy at a Presbyterian church with a great pair of pastors who happened to be married. The contrast in their styles, and the intellectual stimulation of their preaching, made for a constantly engaging experience. That church fully embraced our questioning about the fundamentals of faith. We were all on the same blind pilgrim’s path. Then we moved, and since then we’ve had trouble finding a church where one or both of us doesn’t come home after Sunday services saying, “Remind me why we did that?”

The last few years, we’ve showed up very irregularly at my grandparents’ church, Congregational merged with United Church of Christ. The pastor and congregants frequently invite us back, and nobody has asked outright why we don’t come more often. I’ve been thinking about that, because there have been times when having a church community has been a joyful, renewing part of my life. It isn’t anymore. Here are five reasons why.

1. Church takes me away from my kids.

My husband and I work full-time. We cherish evenings and weekends as family time. Ironically, going to church means either being physically separated from our kids or participating in activities that don’t allow us to interact. Even if we’re in the same room, we’re facing forward, trying to keep the kids quiet and paying attention. There’s a lot I’d like to discuss with my kids about God and faith and the dark hall of mirrors that is organized religion. I wish church were a better place to do that.

2. Church hurts people I care about.

In several congregations I’ve been part of, there have been serious schisms over everything from preaching style to fundamental dogma to visions for the church building to the hymns chosen each week. I’ve seen deliberately cruelty. I’ve got no time for that, especially in a place where the idea – if I follow – is to strive to be our loving, tolerant best. And modern Christianity in the larger sense is the source of some of the ugliest trends in America. It’s hard to be associated with that.

3. I have a teenager.

This is not universal, but teenagers tend to challenge what they’re told. When presented with religion as established fact rather than as a part of our culture and history that is important to understand to be an educated person, a fair proportion of teenagers will rebel, mine included. And whatever you say to my son at this point, it’s already been undermined by the ham-handed indoctrination and brain-dead activities handed out by untrained Sunday School teachers when he was younger. Good luck getting over that wall.

4. My faith is private.

With the obvious exception of writing about it on the internet, I like to keep what’s between God and me a matter for my own conscience. I’m a fan of the Jesus who said “And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full.” It raises my hackles when a non-religious service club insists on praying before every meeting and I’m uncomfortable with churchgoers who want more to be seen and shake hands all around than commune with the divine.

5. Any club that would have me as a member…

Churchiness has a place in my mind as being for people who have it all together. I know that’s wrong. I know that faith is about brokenness and doubt and crying to the stars for insight into this aching, transcendent universe. But I don’t want to put myself out as having anything figured out, or having a closer relationship with the divine than anyone else, or being in a position to judge my brothers and sisters who need only my love. I can’t wrap my head around religion that does that. I won’t get close to it.

I still go to church once in a while. I read and struggle and wait and watch for portents and signs and enlightenment. And adore the Great Mysteriously in the quiet cathedral of my own heart.

Yeah, I work out.

I get asked what I do to stay in shape. It's no best practices manual, but here it is. I'm really seasonal. While it's warm out I'm doing laps at the outdoor pool with all my pool toys (I love pool toys),

joining the rides from the bike shop, doing long solo rides on gorgeous summer mornings, running, hiking - whatever gets me outside. I hate the treadmill so when it gets cold my cardio is nordic skiing, erging (for non-rowers, that's a sweat-dripping workout on a serious rowing machine, probably a Concept 2), and riding my bike on a trainer to my favorite cycling videos. Sometimes I get a Y membership, mostly for weights, swimming, and yoga - sometimes I get bored and let it lapse for a season or two.

I cycle my workouts for strength, endurance, and flexibility. For example, this week I ran one day, did weights and erg the next (o lord my triceps), then a Rodney Yee beefcake yoga video the next. In shoulder seasons I'll join short term sport-specific training classes, like ski conditioning in the fall or running technique in the spring. I ski all winter, alpine and nordic, and ride my bike everywhere I can. I used to enter a lot of events but I have enough t-shirts and I still do the workouts because I'm cranky and can't sit still if I don't. I play tennis, boulder, rock climb, play soccer and basketball with kids, and do pullups on the play equipment at the park. I sled, mofos. I get my family involved, like having my younger son ride his scooter with me while I run or getting my husband to hike up the cliffs near our house with me. Very important: if I don't like it, I don't have to do it. I only do exercise that makes me happy so that each workout is a reward. Speaking of rewards: I give myself a lot of them. Workout clothes, gear, whatever sparks some effing joy. I used to do some insanely hard workouts but these days it's all about what will keep me going until I'm old.

Baby, We Are BACK. Again.

Once upon a time, a decade or more ago, I wrote a blog. I'd forgotten all about it until a machine somewhere pinged me and said, "Hey, can we kill this or what?" I almost pressed DELETE, but then ... I looked. It's hard not to look at a little time capsule from your own life and this one's better than I expected. It's good to hear from that 14-years-ago me. In the intervening years I've moved, sold 2 novels, and gotten some bylines I never dreamed possible. People have let me down and lifted me up in ways I never would have predicted. Blogging got tiresome and I stopped, so this isn't a blog. It's just today. Today I'm thinking about applying for a fellowship in Berlin I'll never get, fostering Newfoundlands, and perfect phrases I came up with at 2 a.m. and need to insert into the new novel manuscript before the next mindwipe (brought to you by 8 year olds everywhere) occurs. I don't know where I'll be this time next year. It's Wednesday and I just got promoted to Suzuki violin book 4. It's today and life is good.

The Mountaintop

This week I went to the inauguration, sardined onto the Mall with 2 million other very happy people. There were some serious crowd management problems, but no one seemed to mind too much (except the people with tickets who got shut outside the gates). I was close enough that I could see figures moving around who were obviously Roberts and Obama doing their thing. The crowd was loud and joyful the whole time, but during Obama's address everyone fell silent to hear every word. Afterward some people (mostly older black women) were sobbing uncontrollably. It felt as if we'd all been released from something. Part of it was being released from the Bush administration, but there was also a sense of an older evil being lifted off us. The air smelled better afterward, the sky was bluer, and the crowd sang goodbye gleefully to Bush's departing helicopter.

Winter sports a-go-go

I'm trying to set some kind of winter sport decathlon record. Tonight it's ice skating with various kiddies. It's amazing how willing parents are to let near strangers haul their children away when they've been trapped in the house with them for a week. I learned to skate on figure skates but now I only use hockey skates. They're so zippy and sexy. You can change directions in a heartbeat. Good for chasing little blighters.

Extreme oof

This afternoon while Bu went skiing, Andy and I rented snowboards and tried to make it down the bunny slope without hurting ourselves or others. I've boarded before and it went pretty well, until this kid fell right in front of me and I t-boned him in the gut. He acted like it didn't hurt but I think it must have.

Over the river and through the woods!

It's COLD here, I mean Norske-get-your-boots-on cold! Yesterday I persuaded the boys to bundle up and go Nordic skiing with me with the wind chill at 20 something below. Exhilarating! As long as you're dressed right the only thing that freezes is your eyelashes (soon to be remedied with ski goggles for everyone at Christmas). It's so cold no one comes out and shovels the sidewalks so you can ski everywhere and telemark down the side streets. Hooray! I'm a giant down-swaddled abominable snow monster while everyone else is huddled inside and I couldn't be happier.