Reconnecting with Church

Laura Cowdery shares her own journey; from the confusion of the church of her childhood to a sense of homecoming at Hyde Church discovered in her adult years.

Why did I go to Church??

My parents were Atheists but they sent me to Sunday School. When I was too old for this it was choir practice every Friday night, 10am for Saturday weddings and of course all the Sunday services. I knew there was something odd about this. Mum believed in the history of the church and in the beauty of the liturgy and the music. Dad was a scientist and has never believed in anything without concrete proof. I suspected they just wanted me out of the house for some peace and quiet three times a week, so I went along dutifully, regularly. I loved the hymns and got lost in the words and the familiar, safe, structure of the melodies.

It made No Sense!

But everything else made no sense to me. When I was feeling overwhelmed with confusion, or my voice couldn’t reach the descant bits, I mimed the words and hoped I was doing a good job of fooling everyone. I guessed the notes that were way too high or low to work out on the staves. I tried not to wriggle and snigger at the vicar’s fondness for squashing spiders during prayers and psalms. I recited the liturgy from the red book, carefully copying the adults who always knew exactly when and where to turn the pages, jumping ahead and flicking back again with amazing assuredness, but never grasped the meaning or the logic behind all the missing pages in between…

The Sunday Best (and Worst) Crowd

Church to me was an austere place, where smiling was not allowed. It was filled with posh people in their Sunday best seated in rows determined by their wealth as far as I could make out. And as I processed with the choir along the polished nave floor, my grubby trainers squeaking shamefully and kicking up my sins from the hem of my cassock, I always had a strong sense that God would not believe in me, even if I did believe in him.

“We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy Table…” It said so in the red book.

The Lost Years

Fast forward 15 years or so after a posting overseas, studying and not much in the way of religion in between, I found myself feeling drawn back to church after the death of my lovely Granny. From Scottish Presbyterian beginnings, she was a quiet kind of Christian who didn’t go to church - her Sunday best didn’t even get an airing on Sundays! - but she always said her prayers and I knew for sure that passing on wasn’t the end for her. She left too much of a mark on all of us. She was good and funny and kind, if a little strict at times, and I knew that wherever she had gone to, I wanted to be with her again some day.

Stepping back into church, Hyde Church of the Holy Ascension as it happens, some 50 miles from the church of my youth, as the door creaked open loudly I took a deep breath that reached down to find the anxious, scruffy, nail-bitten choir girl from all those years before still trembling there...

Fear of Being Found Out

But what I found in this church was lightness and air and no sense of heaviness on the heart. I was welcomed by smiling Sidesman, John, and with a hug from gorgeous, warm-hearted Brenda, and what I felt immediately was a culture of kindness here. No Old Testament, old-skool judgement. And had the Sunday-best rule relaxed, or was it just me? I sat in a pew on my own near the back, mindful of any established hierarchies, as light poured in through the windows. From several rows in front a lady, Penny I later discovered, looked around and clocked me. She turned back again. Moments later she got up got up from her seat and started walking towards me. I started to panic in case my number was up. She’d found me out. She could see the grubby trainers under my cassock from several rows and many years away! But as she drew closer I saw there was both kindness and sadness in her expression. Somehow she had sensed my feeling of loss and after she sat down next to me, she picked up my hand and held it. We both sat together, two strangers, and held on tight throughout the service. I noticed her tears falling during the prayers alongside my own and squeezed a little tighter.

Afterwards I learned from Penny that she had just lost her husband. She said to me, “you looked so kind and warm I needed to come over to be near you.” It was possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. And although another decade or so has passed since that day, with marriage and kids in between, it is a moment that I’ll never forget. Someone reaching out and comforting me despite her own feelings of pain. And someone who also sought comfort from me which felt like the ultimate validation and purpose of my being there.

Coming Home

From the moment I opened this new door I felt welcome. Not just from one person to another, but into a whole community bonded by care and concern for one another as well as a strong faith in God.

Maybe it was there all along and I just I hadn’t seen it before? I certainly hadn’t felt it. I finally realised how church should really be. My epiphany. And an even bigger thought revealed itself to me as I walked back out through the creaky door that day… perhaps, God had believed in me all along.

 “…but you are the same Lord whose nature is always to have mercy.”

The words had been there in the next clause of the red book all that time. My younger self had just mouthed them. My adult self could say them with confidence. And maybe the shoes didn’t matter after all! I had left Him but He was still there. Waiting patiently. Gently guiding me with kindness. And He had brought me back to tell me.  

Belonging in Many Forms – Hybrid Church

Some 20 years after that day (the years are really stacking up now), I still feel that sense of place, and welcome into it, is so important in helping others to feel like they belong; to help people to know that God still believes in us even though there are days when we might not believe in Him. And while we can’t go to the physical ‘place’ of church at the moment, God hasn’t gone anywhere and nor has his community. The Avon Valley Church teams are doing amazing work to reach out online - through daily videos, livestream services – as well as in print and person, whilst we try to keep everyone safe during the Coronavirus restrictions. The spirit is so strong outside of the building. I am so grateful to be a part of this work. And although you may be unable to go out to a service, if this story resonates with you perhaps you could share your own here by telling us what brought you, or keeps bringing you back to church. Maybe you never left? Thank you for reading mine!

Whatever your journey, however easy or hard, maybe our shared stories can help others to find their own way back or to a new ‘home’, especially now when they might need it most… Post in the comments below if you feel you can. We’d really love to hear from you and hopefully see you in church soon, online or in person. Everyone is welcome:

·         Visit our website www.avonvalleychurches.org.uk to find out how Avon Valley Churches can support you

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Thanks for welcoming me back.