Finding Your Way Back to Church: Just Take that First Brave Step

Let me tell you a bit of my story.

I became a Christian when I was six years old. I was at a friend’s house and she wouldn’t turn on Mr. Rogers until I prayed to accept Jesus into my heart. Maybe not the greatest start, but I loved Jesus and I loved church. We went three times a week: Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night. I won all the Sword Drills in Sunday School (a contest to see who could find a Bible verse first).

I felt completely safe running the halls (and tried to listen someone told me to slow down). I loved Pastor Powell’s voice and putting my head on my mom’s lap during Sunday night service. Mr. Sorrell’s joy when he played the piano was contagious. He couldn’t read music but played the piano like a virtuoso. I won a costume contest during AWANA one year when my mom and I made a costume of Oscar the Grouch. (In case you’re curious, it is impossible to sit while wearing a garbage can made out of cardboard covered in tinfoil.) My childhood was good and I loved Jesus with my whole heart.

Middle school and high school came, and my slow fade began. I loved God, but I had bad experiences with church people. I was not yet wise enough to look past them and keep my eyes on my Savior. The fade continued in college and without noticing, without intention, I took another step away from God and then another. Eventually, I wandered far enough from Him that I couldn’t see the truth anymore.

Fast forward 20 years and I was in a difficult and crumbling marriage and had a toddler. I hadn’t attended church regularly in so many years. I felt unsettled in every church I tried, which I did rarely. I felt like I was watching a show, and they had put a spotlight on me in the audience—trapped, uncomfortable, keenly aware that I didn’t belong. I wondered if I had been gone from church for too long and wouldn’t ever feel a part of one again.

When my daughter was 18 months old, I mustered up the courage to walk into a church I had driven by for many years. It was a beautiful small brick building with steep angles on the roof and lovely stained-glass windows above the doors. It reminded me of my childhood church. I felt drawn to this building and wondered if I would fit in on the other side of those doors.

I trudged up the five brick steps and in through the glass front doors. I stood frozen, fighting the urge to run back out. A woman approached me and asked how she could help and led me in the direction of the nursery. Since none of the nursery workers had arrived yet, she signed in my daughter and told me she would stay with her until the others arrived so I wouldn’t miss the service.

I thanked her and proceeded to the sanctuary, an open space with a soaring ceiling and beautiful stained-glass windows lining one wall. After I sat down, I was in utter disbelief that I had just handed my daughter over to a complete stranger and walked away. That child was my everything. The only good thing I could see in my life.

Several times during the service, I almost got up to get her, but something kept me fixed to that wooden pew worn smooth by countless others before me. I have no idea what the sermon was that day. No idea what songs were sung. But I remember the feeling of coming home, of being safe from the storm for an hour.

The next Sunday, and the Sunday after that, I returned to that little church. In it I soon found people who loved my daughter and me well. I found moments of hope I hadn’t felt in ages.

God met me in those long days and months. For years, He had been waiting for me to want Him again. For me to see that He was the only answer to the struggles I was going through. And as I kept returning to church week after week, He started tenderly treating my wounds. He began to pick up the pieces of my life and hold them in His hands.

Reminding me that no matter what I see, He sees it all.

Reminding me He has a plan beyond my comprehension.

Reminding me how very loved I was, even though I hadn’t felt loved in years.

Reminding me that His love is what matters, that He created me with a beautiful purpose in mind, and all of the lies the world could feed me are nothing in light of the truth of who God says I am.

Maybe you’ve been in a similar place. Far from God, but still with a longing for God, having no idea how to come back to Him.

Here is your answer: take one step. Just one step in His direction. He will come running for you. He’s been waiting for you.

His love for you is immeasurable, unending, and filled with grace. It is never too late.

There is literally nothing you have done and nothing that has been done to you that could keep Him from loving you.

Come home.