An Antisocial in the Assembly

Quick note: Today's post is one inspired by a request from Brian Scoles. Brian is a supportive reader of my blog, the pastor of Our Savior's Lutheran Church, and a talented blogger in his own right.

Brian stated in a comment on another one of my blog posts that he would like to hear the story of how I came to join a Lutheran congregation. Rather than dryly recount my experience of finding my Lutheran church and joining it, here's the same story with some of my recent thoughts wrapped around it.

When I was seventeen I broke three metatarsals in my left foot. The story of how that happened is one I will save for another day, but what is important to know is that this incident effected a change in my personality that still lingers with me nearly a decade later. Where I once was outgoing and friendly, I turned inward in the wake of my injury. It drove me into a depressive state where I found socializing painful. I didn't want to take visitors or be around people. Unwarranted resentment towards others took root easily, and now I am certain that my inclinations towards cynicism and isolation stem from that time of my life.

As someone who easily finds the motivation to shut myself up and keep others out, you can imagine that the following verse from Hebrews is hard to swallow:

"Let us not neglect meeting together, as some have the habit of doing. Rather, let us encourage each other, and all the more as you see the Day approaching."

The command of God is clear: join yourself to the body of our Lord, a member of a church. This is a tall order for me. Growing up, I was nominally Baptist and only went to my grandma's church on holidays, so attending a church regularly wasn't a habit I ever developed. Years down the road, I tried to start taking Christianity seriously, so I began digging into theology. I became a Reformed Baptist and began attending a Reformed Baptist church near me.

At first it was a dream. I was surrounded by people who passionately affirmed Calvinism and confessed the 1689 Baptist Confession. In rural Tennessee you can find plenty of Calvinist tendencies, but most would outright deny the doctrine or become violently opposed when it is mentioned. Having those around me who were on my side was an enormous comfort; however, it wouldn't last. I began to isolate myself from others in the church and would quietly stop attending all together.

Later, I decide it is time to finally investigate Lutheranism. It was the only other denomination that had called to me when I was seriously digging into theology. So I googled churches near me and attended one of the two LCMS churches near me. Both were about thirty minutes away, but I decided to go to the congregation that was in a rural area.... It was a mess.

I timed my departure poorly, and I showed up with only seconds to spare. I hurriedly found a seat that was far away from everyone to sit by myself. I knew that the liturgy would be more traditional and formal than anything I ever experienced beforehand, but I was not prepared. I didn't know I would need a copy of the service bulletin to keep up. I didn't have the creeds memorized, didn't know the responses to anything that was said, and it was apparent that I was lost. I felt like a grade-A moron, a complete fool. Someone was kind enough to notice my struggle and bring a bulletin to me, but it was already done for me. My anxious state reached its peak as I was ready to cry and leave as soon as possible.

After the service was over, I hurried home and felt miserable the remainder of that day. I would give it a while before trying again, but try again I would. This time I went to the other church my Google search turned up. I had learned to arrive early and grab a bulletin. One of the elders immediately took me under his wing and was telling me how they did things, as it was a communion Sunday. I was invited to partake as long as I had read the back of the bulletin and assent to all that it outlined as necessary to participate.... We can talk about the looseness of the "closed communion" at this church another time.

My experience at this church was much better, and after a few weeks of visiting, I started to attend adult catechesis classes. After a few months, I was confirmed in this church, and I did my best to be less stand-offish than usual. I even went to lunch with a family from the church, but they would leave as the father of the family was about to begin his time at seminary. While things were going well, they were only going as well as they had gone for me at other churches. I would do my best to socialize with others there, but I felt no real connection to them. They were just other people who happened to believe the same thing as me.

I still attend this church today; however, I cannot say that things have gotten better. I was away for nearly two years after COVID-19 had forced our congregation to discontinue in-person services for a while. I have been back since November 28th of 2021, the start of the Advent season, and I am trying to force myself to become a member of the body. I help with the A/V team, and I recently started practicing with the choir. That said, it is apparent to me that I am not fitting in. I am not a sanguine-choleric German who cheerfully drinks with friends and passionately debates matters of doctrine. I'm a melancholic-phlegmatic American mutt trying to keep myself under some form of control. I want to find a way to integrate myself into Christ's body, but I find myself feeling more like a wisdom tooth or appendix that may need removing.

I am well aware that this is all coming from me, not my church or those within it. In fact, I believe they love me as they do their other fellow parishioners. I'm not sure what I need to do to truly feel like I belong in this congregation. I don't believe I am a wolf in sheep's clothing, but I'm something desperately trying to convince everyone that I belong in this herd. I have fooled everyone, but I'm savvy to my tricks. The cognitive dissonance is so straining that a stint of regular attendance is enough to make me feel terrible when I attend church.

I do my best to say that this is just my cross to bear, no matter how loudly my whole being attests that it is further evidence that I'm not a true believer. I think often of this tweet from a pastor I follow:

My "here I stand" is not as brave, noble, or stalwart as Luther's, but here I stand.... I could do otherwise, quite easily, and I often wish to do otherwise, but I hope God will grant me some special grace so that I may stubbornly stick around despite my own inclinations to run away and retreat into myself.

Until next time!

“Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!”