You can't go home again, or can you?

Even though I returned to my beloved Baltimore City two years ago this month, I did not automatically return to the church that had been my home, inseperable from my concept of this town, before I left.

I have always believed that you can't go home again, or rather, that you shouldn't. I didn't want to live the exact same life I had here before. I didn't want to assume that God wanted me to slide right back into my previous niche. I didn't want to be defined by the person I had been back in 1998. I didn't want to run the risk of becoming a cliche.

When I attended Faith Christian Fellowship from 1995 to 1998, there was one type of member I feared becoming. There were about 5 older women who were pillars of the church. Very committed, fun, intelligent women with a lot to offer, and who offered their resources and their time willingly. These women were all upwards of 45, and had never married. They were not likely to be married for a garden variety of reasons, ranging from church demographics (Most men their ages were already married) to aesthetics (a couple of them were not physically attractive). As a 22 year old, I already feared this fate overtaking me. I worried that it was my cross to bear, and the thought of going back to a church I had first attended in the proverbial summer of my life with my proverbial autumn fast approaching, depressed me. The church can be the most lonely place for a single adult who does not have a vision for permanent celibacy.

I still remember quite clearly the Sunday morning I was sitting in one of the front pews when the Lord spoke to me, almost as a sidebar, and said "your husband is not coming through this church." The revelation took me aback, because for once the topic of marriage was far from my thoughts. I was on the outskirts of facing the fact that I knew it was time for me to leave FCF. Shortly thereafter, I did officially leave, and I moved to Gaithersburg by that time the following year.

That piece of information is not what led me to leave, because I remember thinking "Okay, God, well in a couple of years when that's an issue, I'll deal with this." I actually forgot about this conversation the Lord and I had until I was well into the process of withdrawing my membership.

So, my own fears of looking like an old maid coupled with the understanding that the primary relationship of my life would not be initiated through my association there, left me feeling like "what's the point?" when I did come back to town.

I know that "everything works together for the good of those who love God," (Romans 8)so I have to believe that the two years I've been back, not attending Faith, have happened just as they should have. When it was time for me to be in a corporate worship setting again, the Lord made it plain to me, and I was ready to go to see, at the very least, if I should again avail myself to this body of believers, or if I should close the door once and for all.

The more things change the more they stay the same. I saw so many familiar faces. It was as though nothing had changed, yet the faces of the adults I knew and loved are older, hair is gray now (or more gray), wrinkle lines and smile lines are cut deeper. And the children whose wounds I have dressed, whom I taught in Sunday School, that I hugged as babies, not even school age, are all grown up.

I had a very significant friendship with the pastor and his family, especially with his oldest daughter. She was in her early teens when I first came to the church. She is now 24, two years older than I was at the outset.

I sat there singing songs I sang the last time I was there, six years ago, feeling like a prodigal daughter who wonders if anyone will remember her and be glad of her return. I had to confront the fact that I am nearly 31, and things have not gone according to [my] schedule. I have to trust that other people will not see me as I see myself. A failure, an unpopped kernel, a sexless spinster.

I don't know what the ultimate purpose in my returning is, but all I can do is be faithful to what I do know, and go back next Sunday.