I left the church & found God...
"There are years that ask questions and years that answer." ~ Zora Neale Hurtson
That's my favorite quote of all time... a gem from Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God. In the last two years, I have learned and unlearned, given and received, accepted and released, loved and lost in love amongst so many other things. I've asked questions that have gone unanswered. Most of all, I've changed. And there has been so much peace in transitioning and gratitude for the gifts it continues to bring.
In March 2020, everything shifted. Life as we knew it became a thing of the past. We went from working in the office to working from home. We went from hugs to distant waves from in the car as we drove by to say "Happy Birthday." We went from dancing the night away under the lights in the club or at brunch to finding out which one of our favorite DJs were doing a live on instagram or facebook and FaceTiming our tribes to watch it together. We went from going to concerts to watching Verzuz from our living rooms. We went from the church to virtual services or no church services.
One of the sayings I heard most growing up came from my Momma on Sunday mornings. "If you can be out on Saturday night, you can be in the house of the Lord on Sunday morning. Get up."
Aint nothing like the Black child's experience growing up in the church. Ignorance is bliss in your youth, so everything can be beautiful and fun. You are a sponge, so you soak it all up. And you never forget the feeling. It's all an ode of some sort.
Like being in the youth choir. Having church or choir anniversaries and everybody goes to the church basement to have dinner together-- or to your local soul food restaurant where the staff knows everybody by name.
Like getting a press and curl the night before Easter Sunday with the hot comb and iron curler on the stove. Hold down your ear so it doesn't get burned. Stop moving so much. Put your head down so your kitchen can get got. Scrunch up your face and lift up your shoulder because somehow, it decreases the pain of the process. Pink rollers in your hair, olive oil sheen spray, wrap your hair in a silk scarf and sleep gently. Or wake-up early to get your ponytails with bow-bows and barrettes that match your dress. Wake up to Easter baskets. Mommy washes your face and rubs vaseline all over your face, neck, shoulders and arms. Momma takes out your roller, fluffs your curls and puts a bow in your hair. You go put on your fluffy tool dress, white stockings, white fluffy socks, pat and leather shoes, and grab the little girls' purse that Momma put your peppermints and offering money in.
"You look beautiful baby."... to be a Black girl is an answered prayer.
I grew up in the church. That's all I've known. I was in the kids choir-- I started as as soprano and snuck my way into the alto section in my adolescent years. I twirled and leaped in the church's dance ministry for almost 8 years. My mom was apart of the praise team so we were in church all day.
Daddy's church was fun too in my younger years. Going to church with Daddy meant being able to sleep in a little later because service started at 10:45 opposed to 8:15 like Mommy's. And Daddy wasn't on the praise team-- he could hold a note, but that was not his ministry. Services were shorter too, so while I would be hiding out in Mommy's church wondering when service would end, Daddy, Nic and I would have already been eating brunch at L.L. Dent on Old Country Road.
God bless all of us who lived in the church lol. As much as I despised it, I cherish that part of my upbringing. There's too much to appreciate about it. But while you can appreciate something, you can also see it differently and want to release it from your grasp. Sometimes, when ignorance turns into knowing and knowing turns into tension, you will begin to feel everything changing.
I found my spot in the balcony for my latter teenage years. I did not want to participate in church things. I didn't like what I saw. Didn't like what I felt. But you could not live in Sharon's house and not make it to the house of the lord on Sundays lol. To be a Black girl is an answered prayer, still.
I had foot surgery in May 2019. It forced me to sit on the first floor of Mom's church because I evidently couldn't make it up the stairs. I sat by the band-- some of my favorite people. The seat change was more than a physical change-- it birthed a spiritual change. I saw everything differently. I heard everything differently. I understood everything differently, and I didn't want what I was feeling. So, I left and started attending a well-known church in the city. It was the NYC campus of a larger church collective. I loved it, and went routinely until March 2020.
Virtually, I watched the latter church's services, but I also tuned in to another well-known Midwest church's services as well. Initially, I did it every Sunday, but as the months passed, that began to change. I saw everything from a different perspective. I became more aware of a lot of things, and in that I found a desire to separate from everything I knew and find God outside of the church.
I wasn't feeling what I was yearning for. I couldn't reach God like I tried to.
My last service was in August 2020.
On Sunday mornings, I found myself on my yoga mat in my room, with my door closed. Windows opened for natural sunlight. Incense lit for a preferred aroma. Frequencies playing for balance.
I started reading more. The Alchemist. The Four Agreements. Mastery of Love. All About Love. The Fire Next Time. Sula. Beloved. Bluest Eye. Purple Hibiscus. The list goes on. Reading is one of my favorite downtime things to do, so much so I share my love buy randomly buying books I read for my tribe. I mean is there a better love exchange than that? Neither here nor there, I was reading, doing yoga, meditating, taking nature walks and for the first time, I heard God. Felt God. Felt peace. Felt certainty. Felt home.
The journey did not come with ease. At the time of my transitioning and distancing from the church, my Mom's stance remained the same, and I was still living at home during this transition.
"Did you attend [virtual] service today?"
"It's first Sunday, you know we take communion."
"What is this meditating you're doing? I hope you are meditating of God's word."
"I am worried about your soul. I want to be sure my babygirl is going to Heaven."
"When was the last time you picked up you Bible?"
When I was reading Jeremiah. That was the last time I picked it up. I had read all of the New Testament and the Old Testament up to that point. I didn't like that book of the Bible. There was tension where there was once acceptance. Of all the books and chapters I read, that one made me close the Bible and not open it back up. Now, don't get me wrong, I still hold certain scriptures dear to me and meditate on them. The book of Isaiah is near and dear to my heart. However, the God in my last chapter was aggressive to me, and I didn't want to see God as such. I wanted to meet God on my own-- outside of how the church was telling me I needed to meet and encounter God.
So, I did just that. And it has been the most beautiful and expanding journey.
God Bless my Lizzy girl's heart, because I know she didn't understand. But these days, I think she's starting to get it and be at peace with it.
I was on the phone with my favorite girl the other day about finding God in the risk and outside of the traditional church building.
Matthew 18:20 says, "For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them (KJV)."
That was mom's reference during the conversation. And I told her that I still gather in community and find God there.
"Do y'all read the Bible and pray together."
Not quite, but the spaces we occupy be the sanctuaries. The words of love, light and affirmations be the scriptures. The intentional songs selected by the DJs be the hymns. The groove and footwork be the praise dancing. We be our own pastors-- peaking about alignment and divinity, purpose and passion, spirituality and intention, planting seeds and harvesting, manifesting and doing the work. We be the church and God be God.
I've found God at The Lay Out in Fort Greene Park on Sunday afternoons, with my soul sistahs. Basking in the rays of the Sun amongst my kinfolk. To bask in the presence of such divinity and high frequencies was more church than the front pew. Have you ever seen the Sun shine on melanin on a summer afternoon in Brooklyn.
I found God standing on the picnic tables of a brewery, dancing and singing the night away to Anita and Maxwell with my soul sistah-- amongst my kinfolk and their love and light. I felt God's holiness singing the alto's part in "Melodies from Heaven" at the end of the night-- every Thursday or on NYC rooftops when the day party ended. I felt God in the bass of the guitar, intensity of the drums, and melody of the keys when live bands play some of my favorite songs under the moon light of a full moon with the city line in the backdrop.
I felt the love. The joy. The grace. The mercy. The connection. The certainty.
I felt God.
And God is Black. Which is to say my kinfolk are the descendants of God. God is my ancestor. God is our ancestor. God is every where we go.
God, for me, was outside the brick building with the cross anchored somewhere nearby.
The church was wherever my people were. With love, light and high vibrations.
So, Beloved, I hope you define what spirituality and religion mean to you. I hope you give yourself permission to unlearn and relearn everything for your own chance at spiritual peace and freedom. And should you end up right where you started, that is perfectly fine. Stay rooted. But should you end up somewhere else, with a whole new perspective, that is perfectly fine too. Root yourself in fertile soil and bloom baby.
God is in the risk. Take it.
God'll meet you there.
"All the time."