The Bride of Christ can be a Real Bitch

            We’ve all seen her. Bridezilla. Big blonde hair, fake tan, fake nails. And let’s be honest, we’ve all wondered how she can possibly be that excited about everything. Her wedding is a perfectly staged event, planned down to the smallest detail. It comes off without a hitch and the guests are sitting comfortably in their seats, enjoying the romantic event. But behind the scenes lies a frantic wedding planner, broke parents, and a screaming bride. Perhaps I’ve simply seen more than my fair share of rich spoiled brides, but this image is all too clear in my head. And often I look at the groom and think, “That poor bastard.”

            Maybe I’m just bitter, but this picture seems to translate well to the image of the Bride of Christ on earth – the church. Big pretty buildings, fake smiles, fake lives. And let’s be honest, we’ve all wondered if the people around us are actually this excited and happy to be at church of all places. The services are perfectly staged events, planned down to the smallest detail and coming off without a hitch. The guests sit in the pews with pleasant smiles upon their faces, comfortable with the music, the length, the sermon that tells them exactly what they want to hear. And behind the scenes lies a tangled web of power games and corruption.

            And I simply have to think… this is what Christ chose for Himself? Poor bastard. It’s probably sacrilegious to call Christ a bastard. But you know what I mean. No wonder he chose a prostitute for Hosea to marry. He thought that was the most accurate representation of His people, and in my humble opinion, He was right.  In my short life, I’ve experienced more unfaithful churches than I care to consider. If I didn’t think it would bore you, I could go on quite the rampage about various churches that have hurt various members of my family. The short list, however:

Two of my brothers are atheists.

My father was unfairly fired.

My sister-in-law left the ministry.

My brother’s family moved across the country.

My cousin is an atheist.

My cousin lost the job she had been promised for four years.

My brother worked two jobs, in the end for nothing.

And these are only the physical scars.

            The trail of broken hearts left by the bride of Christ would make him blush. Sometimes I want to look at Him and say, Dude. Seriously. Do you see what this bitch is doing over here? Did you know she’s cheating on you? Selling herself to fame, power, selfishness, hypocrisy, and rejecting You? Have you noticed what’s going on down here? Come do something about your bitch.

            I had a moment of complete and utter terror this morning. I looked into the face of a pastor I had just met, saw his scruffy face and piercing blue eyes, took in his tattoos and hipster clothes, and realized that I liked him. Legitimately liked and respected him as a person. And that terrified me. Why? Because he’s a pastor. He leads a church, and I love that church. I love going there, I would love to get involved there. And all at once those things hit me and I simply wanted to turn and run.

            I was in a bad relationship for a long time. As in, emotionally and verbally abusive for two years. It was my first relationship too. As a result, I ended up with some scars. And the moment that I realized I liked a boy, really, really liked a boy.. All of the shit from the past, all of the terrible feelings of being trapped, of being helpless, powerless, hit me like a train on the tracks, to borrow a phrase. But, it wasn’t happiness that hit me. It was fear. It was like a physical force on my chest, stealing my breath, and all I wanted to do was run and hide.

            I met a boy recently. For a long time, I legitimately never thought I could be in a relationship without having that kind of flashback – where I am struck with physically paralyzing fear. And I was right, actually. I do still have those flashbacks. There are moments when I feel as though I am right back where I was, and I begin to retreat within myself. The urge to run overwhelms me. But the strange thing is, I don’t run. I have someone there to hold my hand, look me in the face, and say, “Esther. You promised not to run. Now. Let’s work through this.”

            And we do.

            The scars are still there. The old Esther, the old way of functioning, the way that lives in abuse, is still there. But the crazy thing is, things have been made new. It’s a new relationship with two new people, not just one. I am a new Esther with a new man. A wonderful man. And slowly, sometimes painfully, I am learning that we are new. We are something beautiful and healthy and blessed by God.

            I had a bad relationship with the church for a long time. I was burned the first time. I thought I found something different, and that burned me worst than the first. And now I am stuck with flashbacks, with trains of memories running me down in the middle of conversations, and fears that threaten to strangle me. But that’s life. We get burned. There are some bad people out there. But that doesn’t mean we have to give up on people. We can meet someone new. Someone wonderful. There are some bad churches out there. We can find a new one. A wonderful one.

            I met a church recently. A church that I really like. It seems really great. It’s a new place, perhaps even a wonderful place. But guess what? I have to be a new Esther too. I can’t carry all the crap and bitterness from old places to this new one. I have to let go of the old relationships, the old hurts. I have to forgive. And then I have to start with myself. I have to be open and willing to trusting someone new.

            One night a while back I was sitting in a tree, (Yes, I do that on a semi-regular basis) and I told my friend that I didn’t think marriage was worth it. I thought it was simply something that caused us pain. And I just didn’t understand why God would ordain such a thing for our lives. What’s the point? Don’t all relationships just end up causing us more pain than they are worth? Her response, however, is one I won’t forget.

            She told me that a lot of life is pain. That seemed pretty obvious. Didn’t I just say that? But the thing is, she said, is that God realizes that. He understands better than anyone else, better than we ever could, actually, just how painful this life can be. And he loves us. So he decided to give us a friend, a partner to walk through life with. It’s a relationship of unity, of trust, reliance, and unconditional love – a relationship you can rely on when you’re weak and beaten down. He did that because He loves us.

            I believe that’s also why God gave us the church. He gave us a family of people, a body to support us when we are broken. Somehow, mystically, almost magically, we are built together to become the body of Christ. I’m not sure I entirely understand how that works, but the more I study the Bible, the more I realize just how many of Christ’s promises are made to the church as a body – not simply to individuals. We need each other. Christ knew that. So he told us to get together, stop whining, stop pretending we’re self-sufficient, and lean on each other. He did that because He loves us.

            And yep, that body can be a brat. But you know what’s crazy? I’m part of that body. Every time I plop myself down in a chair, I become part of the whiny, beautiful, broken, spectacular group of people who have surrendered themselves to Christ and are stumbling down the path, doing their best to follow Him. So yes, the bride of Christ can be a real bitch. But thanks be to God He is a God of grace. Because let’s be honest. We’ve all been fake as a spray-on tan.

            So. Yeah. The bride of Christ can be a real bitch. But the thing is, we’re stuck with her, because each of us is a part of her. And that’s a beautiful truth. Because Christ gave Himself up for His bride, laying down His life to make her whole and beautiful and pure. Yes, He did that for each of us individually, but He also did that for us as a group, as a newly-made unity. He did that because He loves us, because He knows that somehow, all of us broken people need each other. So we promise not to run. We promise to work through this together.

            And we do.