Religious politics.



I’ve been with my church for more than 15 years. I’ve practically grown up with many of the people there. We shifted from playing masak-masak to cops and robbers to comparing test results talking about majors and what we plan to do when we graduate. There are no secrets, no ill feelings because we were one big family. We shared our joy, our sadness, our triumphs and our failures. We all looked out for each other. Or so I thought. We used to sing with one voice, but soon, it grew to a couple, then a handful, then a horde of voices, each expressing dissent. Some claim that it was because there was segregation between the rich and the poor, others say that they disagreed about the church’s statement and outreach. Some said they weren’t being… spiritually fed. People weren’t happy. People weren’t satisfied. People weren’t feeling… spiritually fed. Slowly, people started leaving.

From a congregation of 100 strong, we’ve dwindled to 40, 50 if we’re lucky. I’ve been trying so hard, so very hard to figure out what went wrong. What could’ve happened to a church in it’s prime, a church where never a Sunday went by without a new face, a church that was so vibrant, a church that the people loved, and it loved them back in return.

Worse still, there was a massive meltdown that caused the church to split. Think of it as an Iron Curtain, if you will. And, like the citizens of East Germany, some of us began to sneak over to see what “the other side” was like. Some liked it and stayed. Others said that the extended church wouldn’t make it. Others said that it was such a waste, this animosity, this divide. The main church should’ve blessed them and considered it an extension of the main body.

My family might be leaving the original church because my parents say that honestly, it’s not benefiting them. They say that we’ve gotten TOO comfortable where we are and as much as God wants us to be a part of a church, he wants us to grow spiritually as well. And being a part of a church that does not cultivate growth is as good as not going to church at all. They say that I don’t have to come. That I’m old enough to decide what I want.

So, what do I want?

I don’t know. But this thing is eating into me. How can you go up to someone I’ve been seeing routinely every Sunday for the past almost two decades and go, “Look, I won’t be coming here anymore. It’s gotten stagnant.” How can I? All those meetings and camps and picnics and sleepovers and parties, all our random dinner dates. I thought I’d be attending this church all my life. I thought that, hell, I could get married and take my kids here too. They’d see my baby and and coo and they’ll want to take turns carrying him/her, like what they’ve done with just about every other baby that’s passed through our church doors.

Last Sunday, we celebrated Christmas. And we see the same people turn up every year for our Christmas Service but they don’t attend church on any other day. Why, we put up a drama and we have catering! Free entertainment and food! Why would they NOT come?! And then after being entertained, and having they bellies filled, they go back home, untouched and unchanged. “Ma,” I said, when I got home, “ma, we can’t keep doing this. We’ve been putting up dramas and performances for Easter, Christmas and goodness knows what else every single year. No one ever comes back. We’re supposed to entertain, yes, but we’re supposed to do so much more than that. We’re not God’s court jesters! What are we doing wrong?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t. But I do know that something’s got to change. Soon.”