Desperately Seeking Church Friends

One of the hardest things I’ve ever tried to do is make friends at church.

I say this not for a lack of effort by myself or of the church but the difficulty in connecting the two.

We moved to Florida three and a half years ago from Murfreesboro, TN. We had been pretty heavily involved in the church back home and were looking to take a step back to give ourselves some breathing room with a new chapter in Florida. Once we were settled in Saint Augustine, several months were devoted trying to find a new church home within the Methodist church but to no avail. None of the Methodist churches in Saint Augustine spoke to us and so we decided to switch back to my Presbyterian roots. When we walked into Memorial Presbyterian Church in downtown Saint Augustine, we knew we had found our home. But what happens when God tells you that you are where you are supposed to be but you can’t seem to find a connection? We knew this church was where we were being led to call home but here we are, three and a half years later, and still looking for a place to fit in.

I have pondered on this for some time, trying to put my finger on exactly what isn’t connecting. It’s like getting only half the answer right on a quiz and being completely stumped on the other half. I could blame it on Covid, that sure didn’t help anything. I could blame is on the 30 minute drive to church (no one seems to live in our neck of the woods). But in reality it simply comes down to a disconnect somewhere and this year, I’m going to find out where.

This past week was the most trying week I’ve had at work since we’ve moved. I had a run in with a co-worker that left me questioning myself and testing my faith. When I feel wounded by something, I retreat. I live in the silence until I find my footing, discern what it was that effected me so strongly and decide on my path forward. In this instance, I was being made out to be someone I am not. But the simple accusation left me questioning if that was even accurate. Getting down to brass tacks, I was faced with the intimate inner question of “Am I a good person”? My inner critic says no. Actually, it screams it at me quite often but that is going to have to be a whole other blog for another time. I have come to the point in my life where I attempt to be less prideful and more humble but not without my flaws. I openly admit those to myself and wear the scars like badges to show that no, I am not thinking I’m above something or someone. I know this to be true deep down but this incident truly bothered me and I could not figure out why.

After the better part of a week in my retreat status, it occurred to me. I was missing spiritual connections. This made tough situations feel like I was sailing in open water with no charted course. How can I learn from my mistakes if I don’t even seek the answers? And that meant bucking up and putting more effort into my Faith journey. Which brings me back to the disconnect with our church. Sure, I’ve got acquittances there from over the past couple of years but I had failed to invest in any relationships or leave myself open to someone investing in me. Tim and I aren’t your typical Christians. We have a weird sense of humor. We follow baseball. (has anyone else noticed how many church goers are Football fans?!) We curse, we’re middle of the road on politics, I drink a little. Basically, we don’t fit the mold.

At least that is how we’ve felt in past experiences. We didn’t quite fit the mold in our church home in Tennessee either. We did make the effort there and I ended up being deeply wounded from several individuals in our Sunday School class that I now believe has led to my hesitation in putting myself forward here. But this disconnected feeling has also led me to reflect on how many times did someone visit our church in Tennessee, sit right next to me and left feeling disconnected as well?

Which brings me back to my first statement. The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do was make friends at church. You show up as the odd man out. Everyone knows everyone else’s names (or at least that is the appearance). Relationships are already established, history has already been made and here you are walking in brand new. Our busy schedules and comfortable routines leave us oblivious to those who are disconnected. We show up to church, say hi to those we know, participate in Sunday School and go home. Maybe we’ll see each other on Wednesday night worships. Maybe not.

But as a newcomer, it is difficult to remember names. When you walk into the room, people are already paired up and if you don’t interject yourself, you become a wallflower. And for someone that tends to lean towards being introvert, this can be really difficult. You don’t live close to anyone. Your kids don’t go to the same schools. You don’t have the same interests. Here in lays the disconnect. And its not for lack of welcoming or for lack of trying but for lack of time. We simply have not had the history, the experiences, the milestones that others have had together and it leaves me wondering how many people feel the same as me? and how can we make things better?

It wasn’t until my incident at work, that the very realness of my tiny Faith circle was felt. Could having those connections in place have made my situation better? Maybe, maybe not but I would have felt less isolated, perhaps. It just so happens that this week, Owen began his journey towards Confirmation. I was never confirmed in the church, so I am living vicariously through him. One of the things we had to do was sign a pledge, a commitment of sorts, to be there for every Confirmation class. This is definitely going to shake up our schedule and rearrange our week. So I am taking the opportunity to commit myself to finding my place. I took the timing of events as a sign. We’ve been disconnected far too long and need to redraw our faith circle. We got the first half of the answer right, already. We have the church home. I just pray that we find our deeper connection within this Church family as this year we finally take our seat at the table.

Watch out Memorial Presbyterian. The Duncan’s are going to be in your face, on hand and ready.