*Disclaimer. I’ve obviously never been to every Church of Christ in existence, and I haven’t met all of its members. I know every church has its own “feel”, and that it is made up of individuals who, like me, are just trying to do the best they can. What follows is based solely on my own experiences at a handful of difference C of Cs, with a handful of members, over the course of a few decades. Keep in mind as you read this that I have been hurt by the church, badly, and that these words are deeply informed by that hurt.*

I almost titled this post, “Why I left the Church of Christ,” but then I realized that 1) I’ve already done that, and 2) that’s not really what this is about. It’s about why I continue to stay away. Why I’m continually reminded, years later, why I felt forced to make the decision that I did.

A very brief primer for those who didn’t follow me back then: I left the church because I was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the “We are the ONE true path to God” rhetoric. I left the church because I was being taught how to judge, not how to love. And I left the church because I found it hypocritical that some “sins” were elevated above all others (ie: homosexuality, which I don’t actually believe is a sin), while others were celebrated. Fact: I never truly understood what gossip meant until I joined a women’s “prayer circle.” Holy moly.

I was damaged by the church, and if you think that’s an exaggeration, I assure you I’m in good company. Many many people share my story, from many different congregations, and many different walks of life. And every time I think I’ve healed from that damage, something comes sneaking to the surface that tells me, “Nope, not yet.”

This time it was anger.

Because the fact is, one of the biggest reasons I stay away is because I’m not welcome, something I’m reminded of on a nearly daily basis.

And I get it. I do. In this current political climate, people are drawing hard lines in the sand. God knows I haven’t been shy about my feelings about Trump.

But when friends (and by friends, I mean people I used to go to church with) are posting things like this:

Or proudly wearing their shirts that say things like this:

The message is clear. As a Democrat, as a liberal, I’m merely a punching bag. Something to insult. A butt of a joke. Their church welcomes conservative Republicans. Full stop. And honestly? Even if I did feel welcomed? It still wouldn’t change the fact they also don’t welcome LGBTQ members, or a host of other people, except under the guise of “praying for them” and helping them to turn away from their sinful lifestyles.

Another fun fact? I have dealt with depression my entire adult life, another thing I’ve been told isn’t “of God.” That if I’d just turn to God, he’d take it away. I still remember, over a decade ago, when a truly lovely and kind and Christ-like church member, someone I’d always looked up to, died by suicide. And the collective grieving that followed was not just focused on the loss of this beautiful soul, or the fact that depression had claimed another victim, but on how unfortunate it was that she was going to be permanently separated from God. That murder was a sin. That suicide victims could never go to heaven.

Judge and jury. Against everyone and everything they don’t deem as right. Or holy. Or pure.

Or just like them. And that’s really the biggest one of all. They cater to people who believe like they do. And think like they do. And behave like they do. Everyone else? Well, you’re welcome to come, as long as you’re fine with us telling you everything you’re doing wrong.

And let me be clear. I’m fine with like-minded individuals gathering to worship or to fellowship or to pat themselves on the back. Honestly. But don’t pretend to be something you’re not. Don’t pretend to be “bringing people to Jesus” when you’re pushing them away. Don’t pretend to be “spreading God’s love” when what you’re really spreading is judgment. Don’t pretend that “all are welcome” when you and I know both know that someone like me would not at all be welcomed… and would, in fact, be ridiculed, gossiped about, and/or eventually asked to change my ways or leave.

I love God (something I didn’t truly learn to do until after I left the church), and I wholeheartedly believe that He loves me too.

Even if I’m not, nor will I ever be, a conservative Republican.