I can't recall the last time we sat down together to discuss service, or worship- which is really regrettable. I can't blame Johnathan at all, because of his commitments, and we really should've taken charge of this group whilst he was away and kept it going. What's still great though, is how this cell group has always stuck close together- not seeing each other for a month is perfectly fine, these guys meet online for LOL and DOTA and have random spontaneous suppers when they can. Meanwhile, I had a brief stint working in the facilities management of my church, which opened up the inner workings of the church on weekdays and allowed me to meet the people pulling the strings to keep the church ship afloat. Surprisingly, most of the staff working in the background aren't even Christian- our audio technician is Muslim- which really brings plenty of questions to surface about the church. It's perfectly fine that we have non-Christians setting up for our shows- these people have been quite professional, and they've even come back during hari raya to rush out some work for the church. But of course, it leads you to wonder how these people encounter miracles and meet the pastors who perform them week by week for years, and not be convinced about this God. The answer, shockingly, is the pastors themselves, or the Christian staff that work together in the church. I didn't believe my colleagues at first, but meeting some pastors myself certainly made me realize a few appalling things:
1. Some don't practice what they preach.
Yep, pastors speak of love and patience, faith and forgiveness, but I see them yelling at subordinates over petty issues, treating people of different standings differently. Some of them can really be hypocrites- you'll see them on stage all inspirational and gentle, with that light cast upon them- but backstage they can scold a poor overworked staff about forgetting a tiny water bottle, or not having an usher (are they superstars now) and even participate in office politics- which by the way, can be so simply solved by the very forgiveness they speak of every week.
2. Some are self absorbed.
Some pastors seem to place themselves on a higher pedestal that I do not quit think is right. Are pastors priests of a higher calling? Are they more valuable human beings than us commoners in God's eyes? If that's not the case, why can't you pick up that litter and throw it away yourself, instead of asking the elderly auntie cleaner to do it for you. It's only ten steps to the dustbin for goodness' sake. Why are they entitled to rewards that the staff do not have, when the organization does well on a whole? Why do normal staff have to address them as 'Pastor', and ensure that there's a valet to park their car when they arrive, and breakfast is on the table when they're done with service, and there's someone to walk them right up to their room (which isn't very far, I'm afraid) and take their coat like a butler. Look, these things are perfectly fine being done voluntarily on the staff's/duty pastor's part, but unfortunately they are part of a series of demands coming from higher authority. Yes you have reasons: for example, why waste time searching for a parking lot when you should be preparing for your sermon? Ans: come earlier yourself to find a lot, it's your job and your responsibility (you're also paid for it). Why can't my staff simply prepare breakfast for me on my table after I've done speaking to the church? Because your maid at home can easily replicate that job (it's her job) and you can carry it yourself IN YOUR CAR to church.
That's my issue with organized religion right now, really. The pastors are declared of higher importance than our puny souls, so we serve them to serve God. Don't get me wrong, during work I've also met a few pastors who've really really earned my respect- simply because they show respect even to the smallest role played in church. For instance, Pastor Gan said a thousand sorrys and thank yous to on a five minute phone call to book a small room on our premises. He didn't say I had to free the room up for him, and he told me to check if possible. That warmth and sincerity in his voice was easily felt even through the receiver of a telephone, and I've since seen him display that same overflowing respect to other staff as well. In my heart I can't help but feel- this dude has earned my respect, and he shall keep it.
That being said, the church recently imposed a dress code and a closed door policy that's being adhered to rather strictly for my liking: basically you're not allowed to enter if you're in tattered jeans or shorts and slippers, and five minute's all you've got- the door will shut and stay shut promptly at 9:05 sharp. The church's stand is simple- respect God, or don't come. I've no problem with that really, except how they're treating all churchgoers like primary school kids by imposing this rule. So right now, simply stand outside the church at 9:04am and observe the mad rush of young people and elderly alike, for the door. Granted, the duty pastor is a kind hearted man and he will quietly keep one door open for those running, and tell them to walk because he'll keep the door open for them. Now that should be the way, and I wouldn't call that disobedience to the church authority. These churchgoers, despite being on the minute late have made the effort to come here- some from the west side of the island even- and should deserved to enter given their efforts to rush. They've already shown they want to meet God, in my eyes, and no one like that should ever be denied that chance. Well, there have been some glaring examples of how that rule is flawed since it's been established. A group of Filipino maids were turned away because they were late- and subsequently boycotted our church. They couldn't have been at fault for being late due to commitments at the employers' houses- perhaps the kids or housework, and get they still go to church on free Sundays, which is admirable, but we as a church turn them away. It's rather disgusting. Another dude in slippers was asked to buy proper shoes to enter church, and buy proper shoes on the spot he did. But when he came back he was in violation of now the latecomers' rule, hence he couldn't get into church either. That shouldn't be how we reward people with effort taken just to get to church. Last example I'll give is one I've personally heard and felt myself (because I myself was late unfortunately). An aged couple (50s, I presume) who were Christians from another church came to visit ours, they didn't know about the latecoming rule and came late only to be turned away by the ushers. They tried explaining their reasons but the usher wouldn't budge. Angrily they left, with the husband uttering a line that really impacted me: "what kind of church closes its doors to people?!". What he said was really true and it actually hurt me to hear something like that said about the church I grew up in. But a church is supposed to open its doors and arms to reach into community and provide a haven for people to want to find God. We're literally closing the doors on Christians and non-Christians with childish rules, and it's really sad to hear criticism about my church and yet having to agree with them. Lots of feedback did come about abolishing this rule but the pastoral board didn't budge, so on it stuck.
All that various experiences culminated into many many times I told myself to leave this church, and start again somewhere where I can grow in God again. A visit to Riverlife's youth service once impacted me being a small congregation, I really felt a sense of family and raw, unrefined faith. The leaders and speakers were inexperienced but genuine and everyone knew each other. I realized the same thing after going with Erina multiple times to Victory Family Centre- the same familial feel and God's presence. I thought I might do something brave, and leave the church on my own, find a friend and perhaps grow in God again (because I've been stagnating). But the main factor pulling me back to my old church was the cell group that I've grown up with and known so very well, because I knew that if I left I would be losing contact with a bunch of people that were a big part of my growing up. I stayed on for about a year, attending cell a handful of times, but all the while drifting away slowly. It's come to a point where I feel I'm approaching a crossroad and I've to decide whether I am to leave. Johnathan's getting busier as he's doing well in church and in work, my dear friend Joel is going to japan to further his military career for FIVE YEARS, and a few new guys have come into the cell that really haven't added much, in terms of godliness, to our group whatsoever. So I find myself in church on a Sunday morning hardly speaking to these familiar strangers, and wanting to leave as soon as possible or perhaps have lunch myself, because it's come to a point where they're so knitted I feel ostracized and I can't connect any longer.
I shall make the call, soon.
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