Sunday night… a once chaotic night, has become one of our favorite family nights.
Tonight we were sitting around the living room as a family. We were visiting, working on school projects, talking about what we had coming up this week… Everyone was chill, relaxed, and just enjoying our time together. I jokingly said, “Hey, y’all, we forgot to go to church tonight.”
It was a joke, but we all paused to ponder the statement for a little while.
You see, Sunday nights were once a night ridden with guilt. Although we weren’t “faithful” Sunday night attendees (remember I received a two on my evaluation for church attendance), we dealt with the guilt even when we missed.
Like we discussed last week, good club members, I mean, church members, attended every time the doors were open.
As a child, we lived 2 minutes away from our church. I remember that even then, I just wanted to stay home. The Wonderful World of Disney came on every Sunday Night. All the movies we wanted to see would come on that night. But we went to church because that’s what you were supposed to do.
As a teenager, we lived about 20 minutes from our church. And during my teenage years, I wanted to attend church all the time, for good reasons, of course… It was time I got to spend with Jeremy, and frankly, I didn’t care where I was or what I was doing as long as he was there. So, my motivations for attending Sunday evening services might have been just a tad skewed.
When I was newly married well, I just wanted to stay home on Sunday nights. Jeremy worked long hours all week on the farm, and I just wanted to spend time with him. Driving back to church wasn’t what I wanted to do.
After we had kids, the last thing I wanted to do was get them ready to go back to church on a Sunday night. We always took a nap on Sunday and would wake up just in time to head back to church again.
The good thing about those nights, and honestly, the only thing that kept us going, was that we would take the kids to my in-law’s house on Sunday nights. My mother-in-law would cook supper, and we would always have a good time. Their house was on the way home from church, so we would attend church with my in-laws, the kids would ride home with them, Jeremy and I would pick up a few groceries and then go to their house to eat supper. The kids would take their baths there and usually fell asleep on the way home. This became our routine for many years. So much so that I took it for granted. I look back and wish I had taken those special moments in just a bit more.
Toward the end of our time at that church, we would, on purpose, get to church about 30 minutes late so we could have a long nap and have to sit through less church. Those Sunday evening services just became a vehicle to go to my in-laws for supper.
When we moved to Tree Town, the church was now 27 minutes away. Our kids were older, and they wanted to spend time with their friends, so Sunday nights, in the beginning, weren’t something we questioned.
I joined the choir not long after we joined the church. Choir practice was held immediately after Sunday evening services at Tree Town. We would go to evening services, and after services, Jeremy and the kids would go over to our friend’s house. The kids would play, the men would cook supper, my friend and I would stay for choir practice, and then we would all eat together afterward. This became our routine for quite a while.
And then I quit choir, and that friendship kinda fizzled, and those traditions fell to the wayside.
We began to skip more and more Sunday nights but never without feeling guilty or being made to feel guilty by others.
When I moved from being a church member to being a church/staff member, those expectations for me to be there on Sunday nights heated up some. Now there were more Sundays I was required to be there, and more people were watching.
I remember when my husband went through the deacon selection process. One of the questions he was asked was about Sunday evening attendance. He didn’t mince his words when he told the committee that many times Sunday evenings were the only time we had together to spend as a family. One of the men on the committee, who I always loved, who I’ve heard no longer thinks very highly of me, spoke up and said that family time should be more important than coming back to church on a Sunday evening. So, some understood.
I look back and think about things through a different lens and see all the manipulation and guilt.
So many things were scheduled on Sunday nights to “trick” people into returning. Business meetings, preschool musicals, choir practice, etc. Then when the adults would return on Sunday nights but not the kids or the youth, they created a Sunday evening youth program for the “core” kids.
The youth would sit and have long, unscripted conversations with the youth pastor. They talked about all kinds of conspiracy theories… aliens, vaccines being the mark of the beast, and where the Greek gods came from. Finally, the night would end with a lecture on holiness, how the kids were failing, and how they needed to improve.
Those youth services were held right before the Sunday evening services. So after their discussion, sometimes they would then attend the regular services and teaching in the sanctuary.
And although they have fond memories of spending time with their friends, their lasting impression isn’t great.
When my kids talk about it now, my daughter said she left every discussion feeling afraid, like she needed to do more, attend more, and serve more. And not because it was what Jesus wanted, but because of the guilt the youth pastor doled out.
My son said he would just leave feeling mad and manipulated.
They both said that, in the end, those Sunday evening youth discussions made them feel depressed and disheartened.
I only mention those things because that youth program was created to “draw” the “core” group in. It was put in place so that it could be named as something that should be attended, and when the checklist was gone over, this was yet another service they could be made to feel guilty about missing. And all the while they are there, the message they hear is more guilt.
I’ve mentioned before that when the new pastor of Tree Town arrived, he was immediately insistent that Sunday evening services were unnecessary. But not for the reasons you might think. He didn’t want to prepare three sermons each week. He only had time to prepare one. At his previous church, that’s all he had to do, and he wasn’t fond of the added responsibility. But, instead of ruffling the feathers of the older members, he went along with the Sunday evening services. And he added duties to us as staff since he had more. And if he had to be there, then so did we. And if he had to preach, then the youth pastor should have to do something as well… but I was only part-time… so technically, he couldn’t “make” me come… but he could make me feel guilty, and he did…
Guilt upon, guilt upon guilt… it was the mantra… and not just at Tree Town but at every single church, until now, that I’ve ever been a part of.
So. Much. Guilt.
Why Sunday night? How did this become a tradition for churches?
After doing a few Google searches, it would seem that for many, it became a type of entertainment when there was no television. It was a time of singing, fellowship…
I’ve also heard that during the time of circuit riding preachers, this gave the local people two services while the preacher was in town since it could be a while before he was back.
Another website explained that during the middle ages, morning worship became known as matins and evening worship as vespers. Then, during the Reformation, they used The Book of Common Prayers, which had morning and evening prayers. So, because this precedent had been set in earlier times, it was continued.
Another website used Psalm 92 as its guide, saying that since it says we should proclaim God’s love in the morning and His faithfulness at night, the scripture itself suggests that two services are essential.
Yet another website says that Sunday evening services are a commandment… the fourth one, to be exact… Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy. And since the Sabbath in the Old Testament translates to the Lord’s Day in the New Testament… the fact that it says Day and not the Lord’s Morning, we should have two services.
Many of these services are traditions passed down through the years. I don’t for one second buy that it’s found in scripture… in fact, I think that would be a gross misinterpretation of what those scriptures actually mean.
I find myself questioning every single thing the church does that can’t be found in scripture. I know that tradition isn’t bad, but when tradition is sold as scripture, we have an issue.
It’s disheartening when I look back over all those years and realize what I gave up, what I put on the back burner, to attend services that were nothing more than manmade obligations riddled with guilt. What would be different now if we had, as a family, realized this earlier?
I only know this… we can’t change what has already been, but we can change things going forward. We can teach our kids, who are about to leave the nest, that church is a wonderful thing, but you don’t have to sacrifice your family on the altar of guilt and obligation.
I challenge you to look into it for yourself… what has the “church” added to “church” that isn’t what the “church” is really supposed to be. It’s ok to question that. It’s ok to realize what scripture says and do away with the “club” rules.
Maybe your church doesn’t have Sunday evening services. Maybe it’s Wednesday evening, and maybe it’s another night of the week.
Going to church isn’t a bad thing. Church programming isn’t necessarily a bad thing… but what parts of the church are manmade? And how far have we strayed from the church that Jesus built?
You can ask that question… and you should… it’s the only way this Country Club church mentality will ever go away.
The church is standing in its own way… there are things that need to be broken down… things that need to change…
Where was I going with all of that…
Oh yeah… tonight we were sitting around our living room, spending time together as a family… there were no Sunday evening services to attend… and we felt zero guilt… and it was good.
And when we paused and began discussing that fact, we realized that we didn’t miss Tree Town and all of its guilt. We didn’t miss the endless services, programs… activities, and classes… and it feels good.
After peeling back the layers of hurt and disappointment, what’s left is the realization that all of that was part of God’s plan. While walking through that pain, it felt like we would never be ok again. But God used every bit of that for His good and His glory. And I’m thankful.
Are there things I wish I could change? Certainly. Would I go back and do some things differently? Yes.
Things still hurt. There are days when I still find myself grieving some of the things we lost. Things still sting; some days, the wounds are fresher than others.
The trauma is there, embedded within me for the rest of my life. One of the hardest things is realizing that people you thought were your friends were merely long-term acquaintances. But lessons learned, though they may be hard, are still beneficial.
Today the other side feels good. Tomorrow I may struggle again. And I’ve learned to be ok with that.
But even though the healing is slow, it feels good to know that God had another plan for us on the other side of Tree Town, and His plan is better than we ever dreamed.
I think it’s time for me to write about where God has moved us…
Maybe next week?
Until Next time,
Whitney