I Stopped Going To Church

I stopped going to church.

I, who was born and raised in the house of God.

I, who went to Sunday school every single Sunday when I was little.

I, who led the recitation of scriptures on Children’s Day and was always active in church.

I, whose parents made sure I never missed church service.

I stopped going to church.

It started with me just feeling like not going.

Sunday after Sunday, I chose my feelings rather than what I knew was right.

Then it graduated to me using work as an excuse.

Each Sunday, I chose the excuse of work, rather than being in the house of God,

As if those three hours in church were going to prevent me from achieving my career goals.

One Sunday became two.

Two Sundays became two months and, just like that, a year came.

A year where I had not stepped into a church.

A year where going to church felt like a chore.

A year where ‘church people’ became too nosy for me.

I had stopped going to church, and it started because I didn’t feel like it.

Covid came, and that gave me more ammunition.

It became worse, and my initial guilt started seeping away.

However, there was a gaping hole in my life,

And it became more pronounced day after day.

Around that time, online services became a thing.

“I will join online services,” I said.

I joined the first one and found it too boring.

Joined another church and found them too loud.

Joined a third church and found them too spiritual.

In three months, I had joined over five churches,

But gave excuses for not going back to any of them.

I know not why.

Was it because I had not been in church for a while,

Or was I just finding another excuse to miss another year of church?

I did give up on that after a while.

But one thing was certain:

There was a big hole, and I was looking for something or someone to fill it.

I stopped going to church, and as you can imagine, I stopped reading my Bible.

Bible who? Bible what? Bible how? Bible where?

I was too busy, too out of touch with being a Christian to care about spending some time in the Word.

I prayed occasionally, but that even felt like a chore—a box-ticking exercise.

Without any of this, my life began to go in another direction.

A direction where everything I had known to be wrong started feeling right,

Where I accepted and started surrounding myself with people whom I knew I had no business being friends with.

I moved from observing the wrong things being done

To not seeing what was wrong with them and eventually found myself doing them.

At this point, you could tell me nothing.

I was always right, and everyone around me was wrong.

My choices were the best, and everyone else was archaic.

To those around me, my usual remarks were:

“What do you even know?”

“Who do you think you are?”

“Why are you even interested in my life?”

Because I just wanted everyone off my back.

While my day was busy with so much activity,

At night, I went back home to emptiness

And was surrounded by one problem after another.

The gaping hole was still not being filled, even with the many things I tried.

Then this happened:

I don’t know how I ended up in a particular church this one Sunday.

I honestly don’t even remember.

All I know is that I ended up there a year after the lockdown,

And my life has never been the same.

As I entered the church, I began to feel at home.

I found a seat, and just then, the Pastor started preaching.

It felt like he was speaking directly to me.

It felt like God was speaking directly to me.

Welcoming me back home.

Letting me know that this is where I belonged,

Basically, telling me that regardless of where I had been and what I had done, His love was more than all that.

That God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

That God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son,

That whosoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.

This was not news to me because I had heard this growing up.

But I don’t think I believed it or truly understood it until now.

It was like a reawakening, an enlightenment, an eye-opener.

I just saw a whole side of this Christianity thing as I finally went to church.

I went to church, and I saw the love of God like never before.

I was led there because God loved me and wanted me back home.

He loved me even after all I had done and who I had been.

He loved me regardless of all my flaws, and

He wanted me to be His child in truth.

Because to all who did receive Him, who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God—

A right to be an heir of God and joint heir with Christ,

Filled with the Holy Spirit and being led by Him.

The gaping hole I initially felt became filled with the love of God.

My life made more sense, and the church became one of my favourite places—

No more a chore or a box-ticking exercise,

But a place to share the love of God with other believers.

A place to meet like-minded believers to do life with and be accountable to and with.

A place to hear God’s Word and be taught God’s Word.

A place to worship, serve God, and experience His love over and over again.

This is about the redemptive love of God.

We all may have found ourselves at one of these places in our lives, but God wants us home.

We are not meant to do life alone.

As Christians, the church is where we are built up and where we gradually learn to build others up, to worship and serve God.

You may be a spiritual giant in your closet, but it is still important that you find a Bible-believing, Holy Spirit-filled church to attend consistently.

When we start slipping, it usually starts with us not going to church, and then one thing leads to another.

Please make it a point to always be found in God’s house.

I know life gets busy and stressful, but being in the house of God always helps.