A BUILDING DOTH A CHURCH NOT MAKE

For many of us, the search for the Divine takes us not to ancient ruins thousands of miles away, but to the corner church, the synagogue up the street, the mosque at the mini-mall (OK, that's stretching a bit). Our places of religious worship become houses of God and Godliness, where we go with the intent of reconnecting with our faith and reaffirming our beliefs.

But sometimes we get so hung up on the church, we forget what we go there for. Let me explain.

I go to church, several in fact. I like to try new churches and hear the unique messages each embodies. I like to watch different ministers and preachers in action, share laughter and tears with different congregants, experience different architectural styles from lavish, extravagant churches to tiny, badly air-conditioned rooms in local hotel banquet halls.

Some churches rock with the glory of an on-fire crowd eager for the spirit to possess them; others are mellow and breezy and a little bit transcendental. Still others are serious and firm and unforgiving. Some are just plain fun, with jazz bands and cookies and ministers in blue jeans.

I learn and experience so much by visiting different churches. But it wasn't always so.

I used to go to one church. And only one. It was close and convenient and I loved the ministers and the people. I took classes and made friends and found gifts and talents there I never knew I had, including a knack for public speaking and a growing call to ministry that led to me starting M-Powered, my ministry-in-the-making.

I was living a stressful life in Los Angeles then so I really took refuge in this church. It was a place I could go and relax and feel God's presence working in my life. It was, for me, where God was. And as soon as I'd leave, I'd feel cold and harried and hassled again.

As if I had left God at the door.

I really loved that church. In fact, I began to NEED that church. I became dependent on that church.

Not a good thing, right Martha?

I really did feel that the only time I could connect with God was in that small building with the leaky basement floor and the musty, ant-infested kitchen. I had found my place. God is here! Not there! And that was OK, until I moved to another city.

I was devastated at first. I felt as though I had been torn asunder. As if I had left God behind in the City of Angels. I felt alone.

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