Walls, Toilet Paper and Sanctuary

For the last couple of years God has laid on my heart the need for the church, or people of the church, to be more vulnerable.  I've been a more than a little concerned about the average church-goer's need to appear that everything is in perfect order.  Marriage is perfect.  Finances are perfect.  Job is perfect.  Even the kids are perfect.

Oh, and did I mention my walk with Christ could not be any better.  I wake up and hear angels singing.  He answers every prayer and speaks to me in every quiet time.  I sing praise songs all day and pray when I'm not singing.  God and I are tight!

The unchurched and dechurched come in, see this, and feel they can't possibly measure up.  This has become a passion of mine.  To see church goers become real and honest.  I think if we can lose this air of having it all together, we can become more relatable.  Church people mess up, too, and I think it's time we stop sweeping our messes under the rug.

So, in the spirit of honesty and confession, I slipped up a couple weeks ago.  You see, I used to have a real anger issue.  I came to realize that it was a direct result of unconfessed sin in my life.  I have since repented of this sin and have sought to draw nearer to God, and as a result, the anger has largely subsided.  Well, I got angry the other day...really angry.  So angry I did something that I haven't done in years... I punched  a wall.  You know the worse part...the straw that sent me over was dropping a roll of toilet paper into the toilet.  Are you kidding me?

I'm not proud of this at all.  In fact, I am quite ashamed, and the shame hit me faster than the pain from hitting the wall.  My hand swelled up and, in fact, two weeks after the incident, is still causing me some trouble.  I thought I was past this.  I thought I had things under control.  I am better than what I was, but it became apparent that night that I still have work to do.

So, what was I going to tell everyone?  It was obvious I had done something to my hand as it was twice it's normal size, but to tell people I had punched a wall out of anger was not something I wanted to do.  I know.  I'll lie.  I'll tell them I smashed it in a door or had something fall on it.  Nobody can know the truth because they will think less of me.

And then God reminds me of what He has been trying to teach me.  Wouldn't this be the perfect opportunity to let people know I am not perfect and still have my struggles?  What about all the prayer support I would missing out on if I don't share?

So...the very next evening I had praise team practice, and before the practice, we have a time of devotion and sharing.  The time came for prayer request and, shedding all my pride, I shared my story.  What I found was not judgment, but love.  What I found was not scorn and ridicule, but encouragement and support.  In fact, someone in the group opened up about a similar problem.

Now I know that a small group is supposed to be a safe environment, but shouldn't the church be also.  I miss the days when we used to call our worship center a sanctuary.  I love that word and all it implies.  I hear that word and think safety and comfort.  Maybe it's what we're missing.  Maybe the unchurched or dechurched don't feel safe.  It should be the one place in the world where we can all come as we are, with all of our baggage and mess.  We shouldn't have to leave it at home or check it at the door.  Maybe, just maybe, if church leaders start sharing their struggles, we can be known as a place of security and acceptance and lose our label as cold, judgmental, hypocritical people.