Tomorrow is church. I’m not looking forward to it.

Sadly, I haven’t looked forward to church for a number of years. I know it’s my fault. I’ve been told many times. Those of you who know me, however, know I’m through with trying to be open enough or humble enough or trusting enough to scrape up a few crumbs of benefit from the professional talkers.

Of course I’m angry. But stewing in anger hasn’t gotten me very far. Looking around the room, on the other hand, has changed my life. Each person uniquely fashioned in the love of God for this time. I wonder what they would contribute if the choices weren’t already prescribed.

Those who don’t attend church regularly are commonly referred to as “marginal” believers by the initiated. But I suspect otherwise.

I wonder whether they are onto something that we, the good little boys and girls who go to church like we’re supposed to, don’t yet understand.

What I suspect they are onto is that life does not take place at church. At church, life is merely talked about. They (we?) are weary of the talk. And so they go where life is lived—with family, hard at work, harder at play. Which, of course, means they are not at church.

Instead of labeling them as less than faithful believers, I wonder what we could be learning.