I’ve been writing this post for over three years by simply living out the story. This may have been one of the most difficult posts to put into actual words. For anyone weary, wondering, or wandering, pull up a chair and find strength in the middle of the mess.
My attendance was routine. My allegiance was unwavering. Everything was functioning just as it should–until it wasn’t.
For as far back as I can remember, church played a significant role in my life. If the doors were open, my family was somewhere inside, so it should come as no surprise that this carried into my adult life.
When stormy seasons hit, my church family steadied me. When my children had birthdays, my small group brought gifts and sang with gusto. When loneliness smothered my joy, mentors and would-be sisters filled the void. This connection was the foundation of my identity; the sinews of my soul.
However, somewhere along the way, there was a subtle shift I managed to miss. An imbalance between love and duty threw my motivations into a tailspin. As ministry opportunities and responsibilities grew, I elevated my roles over my relationship with the Lord. Anything elevated above the adoration of Jesus is idolatry. However, the last thing I would have called myself was idolatrous. Church, after all, is a good thing.
Read the rest of the story here.
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