"I Miss My Church"
By Kellye Carmack
It’s been a year since my whole church family was all together in one place. For some reason, it’s a vivid memory in my mind. Perhaps because it was on the eve of the pandemic shutdown. That was the last time life was normal.
It was a Wednesday night, and we had gathered for our monthly dinner fellowship and members meeting. Families trickled in, greeting one another with hugs and smiles. It’s strange that my church family hugging and smiling is now a memory. We lined up casserole dishes and platters of cookies on long tables, adjusting and readjusting the pans until the entire feast fit. As we lined up to fill our plates, I took one to a friend, casually discussing the pizza dip she brought as we both sneaked tastes of the delicious, cheesy goodness. We crowded folding chairs around tables and “broke bread” together. I remember talking with the group at my table over the excitement we had about the church’s new outreach plan for reaching people in the community. We had just purchased a snow cone and popcorn machine and hoped to distribute the goodies at a local park while meeting new people. We dreamed, planned, and chatted about a handful of ideas. We laughed with excitement.
That was the last time we were all together without masks and six-foot gap between us. After months of zoom calls and live streams, we slowly and carefully began to gather back together. I often hear Christians use the phrase “living life together” when they talk about community in their church. For us, “life together” looked different over the past year. I remember when an elderly widow came by to visit us. Her granddaughter drove her around to church members houses so we could step outside and see her from a distance. We stood in our driveways and laughed and talk about how strange this new life felt. When a friend from church had a baby, instead of going to the hospital to meet her, my husband and I stood at the bottom of the steps to the house and gushed at her from afar. And every Sunday morning we would walk into our church, wave at those around us—jokingly wondering if they were smiling or just squinting—and find a seat that wasn’t too close to anyone. There are many different (strong) opinions on how churches should have handled the pandemic, but that’s not what this post is about. Our pastors made difficult (impossible) and wise decisions to keep us safe and healthy, as well as keeping us connected to one another. What’s on my mind as I reflect on the last year of church being so different, is how much I miss and love my church.
When I joined our church almost eight years ago, I struggled a lot with the transition. I left another church I loved to follow a husband I loved more. He had been at our church for many years, and we felt it was good and wise for me to join and for us to stay for the remainder of our time in seminary. I grieved the loss of living life with my old church family and missed the good friends I had made there. I’m an introvert and felt exhausted at the thought of starting over at another church. I wanted everything to be just like it had been before, from the community to the style of worship. My husband and I had had many tough discussions about it during our first year of marriage. As a result of my stubbornness, I distanced myself and kept most people at arm’s length. Distance has often been my default with other people: the closer they get, the more risk of getting hurt. The six-foot perimeter should be a comfort to me, but between the time I joined my church and now something has changed.
There wasn’t one revolutionary experience that changed everything. I didn’t go to a conference or retreat and have major heart change. God did the work of slow and gradual growth in me through the faithfulness of His people. My pastor and his wife spent countless hours helping me see my brokenness and God’s healing. My dear friends opened wide the doors of their home and made me feel like part of their family. They didn’t offer to disciple me in some rigid, formal setting. They didn’t make me feel like a cracked vessel that they needed to fix. They naturally loved me, got to know me, and accepted me. I now realize that my refusal to let go of what I wanted kept me from receiving the blessings that God wanted to give me through my church family. Now, after a year of not being together as normal, I miss my church family. I miss standing close enough to hear them singing hymns. I miss crowding around a table of food together. I miss feeling free to hug and draw in close for a conversation. I miss fellowship without boundaries.
We often talk about the hardships of ministry and the difficultly of navigating church life. That’s all true, but it is also true that as believers we have been adopted into one family. We are brothers and sisters who share the common bond of being raised to new life in Christ. A new life and a new family where grace and love can abound because we are the children of the God who is love. Through His church, God gives us the gifts of experiencing His rich love and mercies if we will just open our hands to receive.
Kellye is the Women’s Ministry Director for Practical Shepherding Women’s Ministry. She has an undergraduate degree in Biblical Studies and a master’s degree in Biblical Counseling. She served as a missionary in Western Europe for two years helping to share the hope of Christ with women in difficult situations. While in seminary, she met her husband Craig who is an associate pastor at their church in Louisville, KY. She loves helping women discover the unique ways God has gifted them to serve the church.