When Faith Feels Confusing

Thunder rumbles like a soothing snore outside my window. The clouds hang grim, and waves of soft rain come and go, sweeping across my front lawn. My legs are tucked in a pile of twisted blankets that one of my Labrador retrievers had claimed as his own, his curled-up body breathing against mine. 

Yet all I can think about right now in my cozy corner is that I am a fraud. A hypocrite. 

Because it’s Sunday afternoon, and I didn’t go to church today. 

I didn’t sleep through my alarm or get a flat tire or forget to wash any and all appropriate church outfits. I simply didn’t go, and it feels like I got away with breaking some rule. I’m not necessarily proud of myself. I’m also not completely ashamed. I’m stuck somewhere in that middle ground of confusion.

I’m confused about my motives.

I’m confused about my relationship with the church.

I’m confused about my guilt.

It wasn’t long ago that you couldn’t catch me slumped in the corner of my couch on a Sunday morning. I was hustling and bustling, dabbing concealer under puffy eyes, curling my hair, pairing floral skirts with solid tops that were the right mix of not too tight but not so sloppy that I’d risk forgoing meeting my future husband in the pews (well, chairs, because let’s be real, not many churches have pews anymore). But there I was, rushing out the door with my perfectly mixed cream-to-coffee ratio in hand. 

Would I rush through my morning neighborhood dog walk and not check in on one of my many single-women neighbors? Of course, but I was assigned to be a door greeter that day, and I had to stay on schedule.

Did I tap my impatient fingers against the steering wheel as I waited at the red lights where a woman holding a cardboard sign perched with eyes longing to be met? Yes, my end-aisle seat was waiting for my cute skirt to cascade over its edge.

Have I let a curse word slip through my lips when someone cut me off in traffic as I approached the final lights before the busy church lot? Possibly, but I had a service time to make.

I sit here in my warm blanket with another sheet of rain drawing along my window pane, and I think about my morning church routine. How it was exactly that, a routine. I love the Lord…