Where has all the passion gone?

We're church hunting.

I write that and find that I shy away from the idiom wishing for something less conventional- "seeking a new faith community" or "taking churches out for a test drive"- something more original. However, I'm not feeling very original these days. In fact, I'm feeling more conventional and predictable and analytical in this whole process than I'm really happy about.

My original title for this post was "Where has all the romance gone?" The last church I joined was an epic saga. I had grown up in one church, been marginalized in another, lost my connection, and didn't attend church for about 8 years. I was embittered, angry, disillusioned, a woman scorned, a child of the church lost, abandoned, and for all that, desperately hoping. I visited Open Door several times over several years to speak with various staff people on the recommendation of my counselor, culminating in a Restoration Through Prayer appointment in which they prayed for me to find my way home. As I left, I realized with a deep swell of emotion, that I had. We began attending Open Door within a week and within 3 weeks Tim and I were saying how at home, how right, we felt. It was like meeting the man of my dreams on the bus- unexpected, passionate, instant click. I can hear the violins in the background as I remember.

We were there for 5 very good years. This January, after several months in which we hadn't all attended together because of illness and bad weather and distance and timing, we wondered whether we should try harder to do better and chose to release what wasn't working instead. Then we simply continued to stay home without any question of trying to get out the door.

Until the Sunday after a pivotal discussion with our conversation circle about community and choices. My heart opened and I understood my own life. I had received an invite from friends to attend their church so spur of the moment, I got dressed and went. Thus began my church hunting. In the intervening three months, I've tried a Lutheran, a Baptist, and an Emergent, and have plans for a Reformed this Sunday with another Baptist and a Evangelical Free in the queue.

There have been no violins. In one sense, I am glad. It is time for me to grow up and release the drama and the energy of being scorned and angry and disillusioned. It's time for me to trade off intentionally like an adult rather than to engage in the romance of my dream community and later break up in a huff with the real one. Or plant my kids in an unsustainable community only to wind up uprooting them again and again. Or to search and search and search, longing for the violins, and waiting until I feel that sweet old passion, that ringing certainty, before I can settle in.

It's time to trade off. And I'm ready. Every visit has clarified what we're looking for.

• feeling safe and happy
• people we could be friends with
• strong kids programs
• solid Bible teaching
• families who support our values
• within a 15 minute radius of our house

And I would be interested in trading for some great classical music or some spiritual practices.

As I was discussing it with Anjali yesterday, she said that she thought we should be looking for a 7 or 8 out of 10. I agreed that would be nice but that I thought it would be awfully hard to find a church that would be 8/10 for 4 people. I proposed at least a 5 out of 10 for all four of us. I said that if Church #1 was 8/10 for her but only 2/10 for me, that wouldn't work but neither would Church #3 which was 5 out of 10 for me but only 3 for Tim or 4 for her and Mark.

I find that my expectations have radically changed in the last three months from finding my sweet spot to finding a place that supports my values in parenting, nurtures my kids, teaches the Bible, and doesn't irritate me. I am hoping it feels like church, provides some interesting relationships, helps me grow, and that I learn something fun, but I would strongly consider trading off for a church even if it didn't.

And yet, I find myself missing it. The romance and passion, that is. I find myself longing today for some sizzle, that surprise ending which takes my breath away and gives me more than I could have imagined. And I wonder if at nearly 40 I'm too old for the abandon I had when I was 20 or 30. Maybe I've traded my co-dependent excitability for something healthy but rather staid. Maybe even bland. I'm not going to miss the crazies and the dysfunction but am I going to wind up eating relational broccoli and brown rice?

I'm sure some sociologist somewhere has studied this phenomenon and I'm sure it's perfectly common. But drat it, I didn't want to be common. I was going to be me, Amy, and I was going to follow my path and not settle.

I remember back in my 20's when I was not attending church, I talked with a number of older, wiser people about church. The one that stands out today is this prof at Bethel who talked about why he attended the church he did-mostly for his kids and his wife. He talked pros and cons so dispassionately and I remember listening to him talk about what he'd really like and what he was doing instead. And I remember thinking, wow, he's really settled- for less than the best unnecessarily, being implied. Now I think I understand him better. And I wonder if now, 15 years later with his kids grown, if he's out having some new adventure. I'd like to think so. Because I'd like to think I'll get to adventure again someday, too.

Will you join me this week in releasing passions from another season and in longing for adventures of a future one while accepting what we hope will be the subtle beauties of this one? I do believe in subtle beauties but I'm not seeing them yet. So if you have a story about releasing and longing and unexpected wonder, I'd sure appreciate if you'd blog or comment about it.

See ya later, passion.
Bye, violins.
Catch you later, adventure.