Post 16 - How Murky is the Water? How Exhausting is the Struggle?

 

Seeing this book advertised in a Facebook post in September 2024  intrigued me. So I ordered it and began reading once it arrived. 

I’d noticed that Saturday nights often filled me with a sense of longing for the old days—when Sundays meant time at church with friends and space to nurture my spiritual life. But my husband and I were adjusting to a new normal. With me having #CFS, waking up early is hard enough, and rushing in the morning is exhausting. 

I was brought up to do church on Sunday. He wasn't. And I think that plays a significant role in our differences. And I'm quite tired of the struggle. And so I look for ways to nurture my soul in other ways. 

Sunday night now comes with enemy forces tempting to pierce through me with guilt for not having gone to church. Is it guilt? Or is it remorse? Is this guilt carried over from my days of being raised by strict parents? Is letting go of this kind of guilt overdo?

As I said, my husband didn't grow up in the church. He didn't live in a home structured as mine was. (Very legalistic.) Sunday began with dad blasting a Christian TV show through the house trying to wake us up with it. It marked Sunday as a Holy Day. And in my upbringing, there was a pattern. Sunday School, Church, roast beef dinner, Sunday night church, sometimes youth gatherings afterwards. The church was my family's social community. But that was long ago. 

For the time after marriage and while raising our children, my husband was an active church participant as was I. We went to and hosted small groups. I went to Ladies Bible studies and taught Sunday school. But now, for my husband, Sunday often starts with him turning on his Xbox or a movie while I sleep in. He is a believer, but certainly has deconstructed. He says he's tired after working all week. He just wants to relax.  

A Time and a Season 

As I wrote in my last post, the new church I found as a young adult, Bethel, was full of love and crazy fun times. I enjoyed it at a poignant time in my life as a young adult. In it, I'd found my home. But, sadly, I have never really found my home again. And this book is affirming my decision to quit looking for it. What I experienced at Bethel was for a time and season. Coming to terms with that is helpful.

And over time, the church has changed immensely. And that's not my fault! 

As I research this topic of deconstruction an article I read pointed out that some long-time church goers--especially those who were active in churches are simply burned out. As I deal with my CFS, I frequently say I'm so exhausted. And when I think about searching for a new faith community, I say the same. I'm exhausted. I'm done. And maybe being done is the right thing for us right now. Maybe this space is God's design. 

Proceed to POST 17