It's a video of REM's song, Losing My Religion, done in a major key, as opposed to the minor the original was done in. While the song is not technically about losing one's religion, or even religious beliefs, it did bring to mind the changes my husband and I have faced worship-wise since he was diagnosed.
These people who obviously have a great deal of time on their hands have taken the sad, melancholy type sound of the original song and made it perkier, so to speak. Honestly, I really like the first one the best, but stick with me. The point I'm trying to make is that we (my husband and I) for years and years were part of a worship system that said we must be happy, we must be relational, we must reach out to others, despite our own personal situation. We were leaders in that type of setting. We were preachers really, my husband literally, me figuratively, in a system that conveyed "in with the new, out with the old". As in practices. As in routine. As in hymn singing and mundane, rote liturgy. A movement of people supposedly called to take the old, minor sounding routine and make it into something new and vibrant.
Then, almost suddenly for me, I came to realize that dark, rock show worship services with forceful worship leaders and driving drums wasn't really what was best for my husband. Sure, on some days it was fine. But if he enters a worship center with an already existing headache, which for him is common, the flashing lights and booming sound is not the best recipe for successful, heart felt worship. Today's church is so focused on the emotional. Worship leaders and pastors push people to some experiential happening. Then they wrap it up and send folks on their way.
My husband and I have ventured away form this type of worship. We've begun meeting as a family in our home on Sundays. Just my husband, me and our two teenagers. We vary what we do a bit, depending on the season and the week.
Sometimes we attend a downtown Episcopal church. It's quite different of an environment than we grew up in or have previously been a part of as adults. It offers a routine though, which seems good for my husband. There are no surprises. It's all laid out there on the program. Same order, every week. No one lays their hands on us. No one yells or tries to conjure up anything.
I like that this particular church is light and bright, not dark. It looks like a church. While I'm there, I can focus on being there. To me, it conveys the light of Christ and I never feel like we're focusing on one person or speaker, but on scripture and God.
I find it difficult to discuss our current "religious experience" though. Just today, two coworkers at different times asked me where we were attending. Working in a Christian organization tends to lend itself to these discussions. My reply was met enthusiastically by one coworker. The other gave me the sense he thought we were off kilter. If he only knew.......
Honestly, I could write for hours on our past church experiences: the good/bad/ugly. But right now, at this time in our lives, what we're doing is working for us and we're comfortable. I wish I could be more secure in that. I wish others (coworkers/family/etc) were more accepting.
Before the bipolar diagnosis, I'd never considered that modern worship wasn't necessarily the best scenario for everyone. Not to mention, I'm learning that for me, an introvert, the way I've experienced church in the past has left me unhappy, uncomfortable and feeling like I didn't measure up. I don't think that's what Jesus had in mind.
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