Hi there. Today is Tuesday, April 28th, 2026. The day before yesterday was Sunday. That day, I did something I haven’t done in a long, long time.
I went to church, in person.
Things have been rough for me, as always. My depression is untreated, I hate where I live, my physical health is poor, you know, the usual complaints. I’m still on disability, so at least I have that modest income to keep me going, but it’s not a lot, which keeps me frugal. (I’m naturally frugal. This is not something I’m complaining about.) (Look at me, still defending myself on my own damn blog against accusations of “complaining.” Can you tell it’s an issue?)
Anyway, I’ve been rattling around in my own head a lot, and I started to notice that I was talking to God less and less. And even worse, I actually noticed myself taking the Lord’s name in vain a number of times under my breath. I have been very scrupulous about not doing that for many years. (Yes, I do still use foul language in other ways from time to time, just deal with it.)
Coming to a Head
I came to a pretty clear realization of my distance from God this past weekend when I tried to make a rather expensive purchase. Again, I’m normally a very frugal person. But my cellphone has been gradually dying, I’ve had it for several years, and it’s been struggling to hold a charge. Rather than shelling out for a new battery (on a device that is the mobile equivalent of an Edsel), I decided to pull the trigger and order a new phone.
I decided.
Didn’t pray about it. I just…decided.
Go to now, ye that say, To day or to morrow we will go into such a city, and continue there a year, and buy and sell, and get gain: Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away. For that ye ought to say, If the Lord will, we shall live, and do this, or that. (KJV)
Amusingly enough, no doubt with James 4:13-15 in mind, God had other plans. I placed my order online through my phone service provider, and it said my payment was declined. So I tried to place my order again, and again the phone company said it was declined.
I checked my bank account, and it showed TWO pending charges for the price of a brand-new device (not cheap, do you know what year it is).
What followed was more than half an hour on the phone with both my bank and service provider attempting to get someone to (1) care and (2) comprehend that I was a little freaked out about possibly being charged twice for an expensive device that I had not even successfully ordered yet and would not even receive.
Fun!
With continued amusement on God’s part, after confirming that the failed purchases would not be held against me, I made a third attempt to drop a high number of dollars on the new phone, and this time it appeared to work. I got an order confirmation email, and my bank sent me a handy little “Hey this is a large purchase, please confirm you want to spend this much money?” text message, which I agreed to. I went to bed Friday night thinking, “Cool, I’m getting a new phone, I deserve this,” and similar idle thoughts.
The next morning I got an email from the phone company telling me my order was canceled. For some reason.
Incredibly, I still didn’t take the hint, and placed yet another order online for the damn new phone I wanted. And soon enough, I received yet another email telling me that my order was canceled again.
Okay, FINE
I spent some time between Friday night and Saturday morning griping to friends online about this mishegoss (…yes, COMPLAINING) and how “Apparently I don’t get to have nice things.” But it did finally coalesce into a nugget of realization that I hadn’t talked to God about this large purchase, and in fact I hadn’t been talking to him much at all for some time lately, and had indeed been slipping up and carelessly using his name in ways I haven’t for many years, and I didn’t feel great about that. So I decided (…yes, I decided) to stop trying to buy a phone, and to go to church the next day.
For the past year-plus, I have occasionally watched online services, which have been fairly common ever since COVID. I know that it’s maybe a little too common, and more people are probably using these online videos as an excuse to avoid going to in-person church services. I might be guilty of this too. But I was also using them as a bit of a cheat to see what a church is like without having to subject myself to what I assumed would be mistreatment if I showed up in person.
You Are A Black Sheep, Don’t Forget It
Yes, The Abuser still has a fair amount of power over me. He has been whispering in my ear a lot, reminding me in technicolor detail of all the shitty experiences I’ve had in previous churches, even the ones I only visited once or twice. Such as:
- The one where I showed up a minute or two late and a man put his hand on my arm in the vestibule to prevent me from entering. They were showing a video on the big screen and he didn’t want me “disturbing” people.
- The one I visited for the Easter Sunday service, and they were doing a Big Thing with the children putting on an Easter presentation, and not one person spoke to me to ask my name or make even a cursory attempt to give me a connection card.
- The one where a bouncer asked me to remove my baseball cap before entering. (No, it was not a political hat, but even if it had been, what is wrong with you? Missing the point of church, much?)
And so on, plus all the little insults and indignities and wrongs I endured at my original church and a number of subsequent churches where I attended for longer periods of time. The Abuser still knows how to get into my head, and I’ve been letting him due to my failure to rebuke him in the name of Jesus, and in my failures to communicate with God in general.
But there’s a church in the area where I currently live that I hadn’t visited. I’d seen a sign for it out on the main road, but when I tried looking it up online I wasn’t able to find much. In the Year of Our Lord 2026, this little church doesn’t have a website or even a Facebook page, somehow. Buh? At any rate, early Sunday morning I called the church’s phone number and asked the man who answered if I had the right church and if they were having services and if so at what time. He said he hoped to see me there. I showered (another thing I hadn’t done in an embarrassingly long time), brushed my teeth (ditto), put on clean clothes (ditto ditto) and headed on over.
Guess What?
It was fine.
It’s a very small church, and once I parked my car I had a little trouble figuring out where the main entrance was, but I managed to get inside and I was immediately greeted. Not with a gushing fake cheer by carefully-put-together Barbie’s Dream Church Pastor’s Wives, but with somewhat surprised friendliness, like oh hey we have a visitor, I’m So-and-So, what’s your name? I was given a bulletin. The pastor also greeted me and immediately recognized my voice as the one who called earlier asking about service times. He gave me a quick rundown of himself and an apology in advance that they don’t really have a music program because their music director died of COVID during COVID. I took a seat amidst the very sparsely-populated pews, made sure my phone was on silent, and proceeded to pay attention to the service.
It was fine.
A little old dude stood up at the lectern and led us in song from hymnals, accompanied by some recorded instrumental music. Various announcements were made: this or that members are in the hospital, a missions conference was coming up soon, a ladies’ get-together of some sort, Bible study of some sort, a fellowship dinner of some sort. More hymns. A lady stood up to sing “El Shaddai” using a YouTube video of the Amy Grant version on her phone as accompaniment. The pastor’s sermon, finally, about the Last Supper. A brief invitational hymn. As it happened, I attended on the day they were observing the Lord’s Supper during the service, and I partook. More hymns. The service wrapped up, and I thanked the lady who sang the “El Shaddai” song before leaving.
It was fine.
Sure, the music wasn’t exactly professional. The bulletin was full of typos. They don’t appear to have much in the way of programs for believers. Nobody invited me to lunch. The pastor’s message wasn’t the kind of hard-core intellectual deep dive I had gotten spoiled on at my original church. And as I mentioned above, they aren’t online, not even on Facebook. But I hadn’t gone to church for that.
Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is; but exhorting one another: and so much the more, as ye see the day approaching. (KJV)
I had thought about Hebrews 10:25 and my need to be among other believers. (Hilariously, that verse was actually touched upon during the message.) I had realized that need was greater than my fear of all the things The Abuser was constantly reminding me of. And I got what I needed this past Sunday.
Will I go back to this tiny little not-online-at-all church? Yes, I fully intend to, God willing. Will it be the place I stay? I don’t know. I’ll have to ask the Lord.
But I was greeted when I came in. Nobody tried to keep me out. The preacher spoke from the Bible. I heard nothing doctrinally suspect in the message. That was all I really wanted.