I've been skipping church a lot, and finally a friend called me out on it. I'd been waiting for someone to do so, which is exactly the sort of loser-move I side-eyed when I used to be an insider. "Well, if they'd just come up to us," I would say, "We would totally invite them in and be nice." True! And it is undoubtedly unfair to ask people to be responsible for the emotional well-being of others. But sometimes people are desperately unsure of themselves and need the validation that someone noticed they were gone and wish it hadn't been so.
That was a long preamble to the fact that: I went to church today. And I wish I hadn't.
It was Father's Day, which is never my favorite holiday. Same for Mother's Day when there is blanket celebration with no acknowledgement of potential pain (either from one's own parents or from not being a parent oneself). So there was the requisite adorable video and honoring of fathers. There was a quote from Martin Luther about how we ought to be grateful for our parents because they fed us instead of letting us die. All true, I suppose, but a single throw-away line about, "If you need to work through your family's dysfunction, go see a counselor," did little to honor the pain that I imagine at least 40% of the congregation felt. Fathers, man. They do a number on people. Sometimes it's "simply" lack of time or affection, and that's enough to screw someone up. But I've been a counselor for all of five months, and already I'm realizing how terrifyingly common it is for fathers to verbally, emotionally, physically, and emotionally abuse their children. Handwaving that fact away with a "thank God for your parents" felt very irresponsible.
But I expected that. What I didn't expect was a sermon based on the fact that humans bear God's image most fully in the family. There were, like, maybe a few sentences about how the Church is a family, but mostly even that was in the context of using the Church to bolster your own family unit.
As soon as it was said, my face shut down, my body turned in on itself, and I felt emotions crawling up my throat. Honestly, I don't even care that I disagree with that interpretation of Genesis 1:26-28. I personally believe that we bear God's image as individuals in relationships, but that there is no premium on marriage or parenthood as the relationship par excellence. And I believe that multiplying to fill and subdue the earth includes, but is not limited to, physical reproduction. But whatever. That was not the message being taught today. I could maybe have handled hearing that the family is the best way to represent God if even once the message had been directed to singles. "What about us?" I thought. "We're stuck with being sub-par image bearers. What do we do with that?" Hearing a callous "You just have to wait until you're married," would have pissed me off, but it would have been better than what actually happened, which is that myself and other singles (and the divorced and widowed and childless) were simply erased.
It got worse, of course. Because eventually we were addressed, in the form of a survey the entire congregation filled out after the sermon so that the church could better serve us. Nice thought, and there was even one-fourth of the page devoted to singles. There were sliding scales that asked if we thought God was using our singleness to sanctify and mature us, and I heavily circled the highest number in an attempt to prove my marital status doesn't affect my relationship with God. Then there were a couple yes/no questions. Two of the three were, "Are you saving sex for marriage?" and "Are you doing what you can to hold high the idea of marriage?" Wonderful, wonderful. My existence is summarily described by what I cannot do and by aspiring to that which I am not. My singleness is the absence of.
To drive home the point, today was the Sunday when people with birthdays or anniversaries in the current month go forward to be acknowledged and prayed over. I normally love this, because I really do have a high view of marriage. But after forty minutes of being told over and over that this is ideal (and implicitly, you, Tricia, are not ideal), it hurt to hear one last time, "Congratulations to these couples who are exhibiting the truth that marriage is the place where people best bear God's image!" I wanted to scream, "What about Jesus? What about Paul? What about that pesky verse that says it is better to be single than to be married? Why is this not a nuanced conversation!? Why do I feel like I don't exist?"
Instead, I practically ran to my car, throwing sunglasses on to cover the tears in my eyes. As the car door slammed shut behind me, I instantly began sobbing and didn't stop until I got home. Part of me sank into the desperate desire to be married and have kids--to be normal, to be the focus of the sermon, to be heard and valued in conservative evangelical culture. I just wanted to fit in. Another righteously angry part of me wanted to stay single forever, because I'm scared that if I ever do get married and have kids, I will be awash in relief at having arrived, and I'll blissfully forget the other singles who will still be ignored and undervalued. I hope I will not be that way, but I've seen how the glow of being an insider can make me oblivious to those on the outside.
I don't mean to bash on my church family or my pastor. I love my church to pieces, and I think this hit me so hard because I have such high standards. They've been very nuanced and balanced and thoughtful in the past, and I'm sure they will be again in the future. But today hurt.
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