Faith Over Church

"What happened to your faith?"

I was taken aback when I saw that question in my inbox a few months ago.

"Nothing," I replied. "If anything, it's stronger than ever. I just don't do the church thing anymore."

"That's too bad," he wrote. "I used to look up to you so much."

"Then you missed the point," I replied. And wished him well.

He was someone who attended the inner city church I served for eight years. He was one of many we helped to get off the streets, out of addiction, away from crime, and out of spiritual and physical poverty. I'm so proud of the work I got to collaborate with God in doing there. But that season- and my affiliation with a church- ended a decade ago. More on that later.

First the faith part. I had a rocky start with learning about God through churches. The church my Mom chose was (in my humble opinion, without wanting to hurt anyone associated with it) fear based and isolationist. It was very much religion over relationship. I didn't really get to know God. I just got to know "His" rules and the terrible consequences for breaking them. We didn't celebrate holidays and couldn't join in the pledge of allegiance in class. That made me feel different from other kids, which would have been okay if I had conviction in the church's teachings or understood why God required that of me. I had nightmares involving the demons they taught us about in Sunday school. I questioned why everyone else I knew who didn't attend that church- including my Dad- was destined for a fiery fate in Hell. I was warned about the consequences of "bad thoughts," so I constantly begged the mercurial God I was told about to show mercy on me. Seeing the toll her church had taken on her family, my Mom left it when I was young. Thank God.

After that, I still prayed. I still talked to God. But, I didn't have any religious structure or scripture. My grandparents took me to their Latter Day Saints church a few times. I was a teenager then and had no interest in piety at that point. I indulged my grandparents by being polite and feigning interest. But it wasn't ever genuine. They knew and kind of stopped inviting me. I think we were all relieved.

I honestly really didn't think about my faith- or God- much again until I was 30. And pregnant. And seriously considering terminating the pregnancy because I did not think I was emotionally or physically healthy enough to bring a new life into the world. It was just a few days before my abortion appointment when I started having dreams about a little girl. They were the same dreams I had in my twenties. Something strange had happened then. I went into work one afternoon after a restless night of dreaming about this infant. A co-worker came up to me and said, "I had a dream about you last night. You were in a swimming pool playing and laughing with a baby girl who looked just like you. And you were so happy."

Chills washed over my body and I started to cry. What she was describing was the exact same dream I had. Every detail. I brushed it off as being about my future niece or some child I'd yet to meet. When the dreams returned during my pregnancy, I knew. I knew I was destined to be my dream girl's mama. Against all odds, I decided to keep my pregnancy. And, throughout those nine months, I prayed to a God I didn't really know to give me a healthy baby... one who didn't deserve to suffer over the decisions I made before I knew about her.

My baby arrived early. She was perfect. I named her, "Hope." And I knew God had a purpose for both of us (Jeremiah 29:11). Still, it would be nearly a decade before I sought Him again. I was so used to living without Him, that I didn't even know what it would look like to invite Him in. I thought it meant lots of rules. That was all I knew. And I wasn't ready for that. Plus, no one I knew who professed to be a person of faith appealed to me. They were often judgmental, hateful, and hypocritical. I didn't want any part of that.

Fast forward almost 10 years and I was in a rock bottom place in my life. I had just come out of an abusive and unfaithful relationship, my bond with my daughter was tenuous at best, and my life was a mess. Dear friends invited me to hang out with them one weekend and they took me to their church. It was there that I learned about a loving God who wants good things for His children. A God who pursues us and wants a relationship with us. A God who created us on purpose and for a purpose. A God who wants to work with us in making this life and this world as beautiful as it can be.

That resonated with me. That connected with the part of my soul that knew there was a good and loving God out there. That was the God who gave me dreams of my beautiful daughter, and gave the same dreams to someone else so I would pay attention and become a mama (the greatest gift of my life). It was all the things my heart needed, but didn't know to search for. I was in.

I started volunteering at the church. I went on a mission trip. I joined the local outreach team. Through the latter, I was connected to a start up ministry in the poorest neighborhood of Las Vegas. I loved the absolute purity of God's work through that ministry so much that I joined on and became part of the church's leadership.

Hand painted on the wall of the humble courtyard that held our services was the church's guiding scripture: "If I do not do the Works of My Father, do not Believe Me."

There was no hypocrisy in that church. No performative Christianity. No "us vs. them." The work of the church aligned with what we understood Jesus' teachings to mean. We helped the poor. We served and worshipped alongside drug dealers and sex workers and addicts. Everyone was welcome and everyone could feel God's presence there. It was incredibly special. And I had a front row seat to miracle upon miracle (too many for this blog). I had no doubt that God was real and that He was moving through us. From working with the rescued victims of child trafficking to negotiating "our kids" out of gangs, we did unbelievable things. Dangerous things. God-blessed things. And I will always be proud of that work. Always. Moreover, I will always believe in and love the Jesus I got to know through that ministry. Always.

When I felt the nudge to leave, it didn't totally make sense to me. Yes, I was burned out. Yes, it had been a very hard season of ministry work and raising a child and trying to make a living. Yes, things were tough. But I don't think I would have left if I didn't feel like God was pushing me to.

I was contacted by a recruiter. I secured a well-paying job with amazing health insurance (something I hadn't had in years). And I departed. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done.

Four months later I found out I had stage 3 breast cancer. Do you think God knew the battle I would be facing and wanted to position me for victory? I do. Without a doubt. He put me in a place where I could pay my bills and focus on my health and receive the treatment I needed. I knew He was right there with me. I went into that ordeal with incredible faith. I came out with a faith so indelibly etched in my heart that it will never ever ever fail. Not ever. Thank God.

As far as the church... I went into my battle without a church and I came out the same way. The ministry struggled and changed hands while I was sick. It still does great work, but it is not and will never be the same.

I've visited many churches since those days. I have loved them all for different reasons. But none have felt like home to me. And with the world being what it is and too many Christians doing more to keep people from Jesus than truly representing Him and His teachings, I don't have the desire to be a church girl again.

But, Briana, don't you need community to live out your faith with? What about corporate worship? How are you participating in the Body of Christ? In what ways are you learning and studying scripture? Who is covering you spiritually?

I've gotten a lot of questions like those over the years. I just say, "I'm good." Because I am. My faith is stronger and quieter than it has ever been. I commune with God all the time. I do self-directed studies. I serve in more organic and ad-hoc ways. I worship through song and art and spending time amidst His creation. I pray like lives are at stake. Because they are. And I believe wholeheartedly in the power of prayer.

What would not be good for me or my faith is to be part of something that isn't loving, isn't inclusive, isn't representative of Jesus' teachings, and isn't dripping with the fruit of the Spirit. I won't do that. Because I never want to be the reason anyone thinks God doesn't love or want to have a relationship with them. I never want people to think I'm even casually aligned with racism or homophobia or classism/prosperity teaching or cruelty toward immigrants or Christian Nationalism. I never want Jesus to say to me, "I never knew you" because I didn't love the "least of these." I won't tarnish my very hard-won faith with faulty doctrine.

I would hang out with the Pope, though. That dude is cool. :) Sorry... just wanted some levity for a second.

The truth is, I won't presume to tell anyone how to walk out their faith. That's between them and God. I just know that, for me, faith is my everyday experience. It's my lifestyle. It extends beyond four walls and Sundays. My faith deepens and grows. It discovers new ways to express itself (this blog is one of them). It gets me through absolutely everything. My faith is between God and I. I want to keep it that way: solid, protected, honest, and pure.

I love that so many people in my life have churches that they belong to and adore. I see them doing really good and Godly things. I love that for them.

As for me, it's faith over church. If you have both, cool. I don't and so I choose the thing that matters to me most. Churches rise and fall. They're created by humans who rise and fall. Faith, though, that's enduring. For me, there's only rise and no fall at this point in my walk.

As for the young man who said, "I used to look up to you." I told him he missed the point. Because he had. First of all, faith and church are not the same. Second, it was never about me. Just as it should never be about any church leader. Or about anyone being more faithful, or spiritual, or virtuous, or religious, or sacrificial than anyone else. If you thought it was about me, I did it wrong.

What I haven't gotten wrong is listening to God's voice in my life over these past 20 years. It won't sound the same for me as it does for you or anyone else. That's okay. Hearing from Him, though, does require quieting the voices of those who don't truly represent Him. If they do not do the works of the Father, do not believe them.

Xoxo, B