I find it most ironic that I write about faith and being a part of a church yesterday and today find myself writing at 11 AM instead of PM because I am not at church.  I was.  I am not now.

After not sleeping all week because of what I was thinking about, I was very much looking forward to being fed.  But at the beginning of Sunday school, Pastor came to warn me the lesson had topics I cannot bear to hear.  I think he meant sex was coming up again.  He offered to send Pizza Man to come fetch me after the discussion moved past those verses, so instead of leaving all together, I ducked into a youth Sunday school class because I knew the teacher and my godmother would not allow me to hold her daughter upstairs in the sanctuary.  I didn't want to be alone.

But I was alone in that class.  Alone and very, very much the interloper.

I admit that my mind was only half there, waiting for Pizza Man, who actually never came.  I do not know if he forgot or if the discussion never progressed passed the verses.  But I was also so uncomfortable as to why I was there and that I clearly didn't belong.

Then, as I watched and listened to the youth fuss over having to read the bible aloud, trying to avoid doing so, my heart just broke.  Here I am, so hungry for teaching I practically badger Pastor...and the youth clearly were not interested in being in their class, in reading the bible, in working through the questions, or in having a discussion of any type with the teacher.  They tossed aside what I would have paid good money to have...the Living Word and proper teaching.  I wanted to snatch away their bibles...ones from the church, not even their own...and declare that I would be honored to read everything.  I wanted to cry out loud for what I was missing, for how magnificent God's Word is, and for what an ineffable privilege it is to both have the freedom to come and worship together and to have the Living Word fill your ears.  All I did is sit there, juggling a baby on my lap, waiting for a welcome back into my own Sunday school class that never came.

Then, afterward, I was sitting at the table downstairs, struggling with the fact that I had missed teaching because I am so weak in facing certain things of this life God has given me and,  well, how sorrowful I was over what I had just witnessed, when Pastor approached me again.  He had another warning...about the sermon.

Please do not get me wrong, I felt quite cared for in his two warnings.  I would much, much rather him warn me than  leave me to struggle of being staggered by a topic.  However, all I could think, at that moment...and now, is that I have no business trying to be part of a church.  I didn't belong there; I will never belong there.  Not that I don't belong at St. Athanasius, but that I do not belong in any church.  How could I?  I am a freak, it seems, when it comes to reading the bible, in preparing for or doing homework for bible studies.  And I cannot even sit through lessons when the topics are difficult for me.

Oh, how I wanted the Lord's Supper today.  In a sense, I have held on this week just thinking about making it to Sunday, where I would have the Body and Blood of Christ to feed me, to sustain me, to teach me.  How will I ever understand His forgiveness here and now, instead of just on the Cross, unless I receive it?  How will I learn if I do not?  Yet how can I inflict who I am upon a church, any church...and how can I survive the hurt and disappointment of having to leave in the manner in which I did today?

I sat on the bottom of the stairs so I could hear the service.  Oh, how I wanted to sing We Praise and Acknowledge You, O God with brothers and sisters in Christ.  But it hurt, sitting there listening to the processional, feeling like such a failure in my faith and such the interloper in the church.  Pizza Man came down for something and spotted me sitting there.  He assumed I was unwell physically.  When I tried to tell him how I was feeling, he told me then I certainly couldn't leave before absolution and I truly needed the Lord's Supper.  His last words to me were Please don't bail on us tomorrow.  He knew I was already questioning how could I go to bible study if I don't even belong in church.

He left to join his family.  A while later, when I could hear the scripture readings begin, the congregation president came down.  He also assumed I was unwell physically and told me there was a bench in one of the classrooms.  Still crying, I jumped up and fled the church.

I wept the whole drive home, as I am weeping now, because although I ached for the Lord's Supper and His forgiveness, I still fled.  I cannot have what I need to grow stronger because I am too weak.