I've had some renewed correspondence, of sorts, around the church I used to go to.
It's a bit awkward, because they seem to want some kind of reconciliation, or at least absolution, while I'm trying to explain to them my position on questions they don't seem to have even asked themselves.
I don't really have any interest in settling in there again. No malice, no grudge. Just not interested.
But they're in a transition time between pastors and that's a good time to clear the books.
The outgoing pastor is one I had a series of disagreements with and who, ultimately, "fired" me. I've since had a chance to forgive and move on from that, as, I believe, has he.
Because of our past conflict, I really wanted to sing a particular song at his Farewell service. To show people that grace and reconciliation, though hard sometimes, are powerful things.
So I sent an e-mail to the church. It took them over a week to answer and the answer was no. I wrote back, expressing my disappointment that they didn't have the courage to do the unexpected.
I got a note back that said, in part, "You are always welcome here."
And that's the problem. They believe I am. I know I'm not.
Not the real me. The passionate, stir-the-pot, let's-go-for-it me.
The me who is welcome there is a nice woman.
The me who is welcome there is a good singer. With a great voice, basic piano skills and an "anointing". The me who is welcome there comes on Sunday morning and stands and sits when told. Sings one song, then three songs, then one to close. Drinks coffee. Chats. Goes home.
The me who is welcome there goes to Women's Ministry gatherings and weekends away.
The me who is welcome there works and works to make things work, in the name of unity, even when she disagrees with the whole premise, in the name of humility and in the silent hope that some day, someone will actually listen to her when she says, "No."
The me who is welcome there will lead a remarkable time of worship, see the response of the people, hear their hearts when they sing and then go to a "Program Team" meeting two days later and say, "OK" when told it wasn't what she was supposed to do and never do that again.
The me who is welcome there will never say anything that sounds "pastoral" from the platform.
The me who is welcome there will never have the temerity to suggest that she might be a good option when the pastor is away and they're looking for someone to preach. She would know that her glands are in the wrong spots.
The me who is welcome there will never get angry at promises broken or visions squashed.
The me who is welcome there will toe the line.
Since I left, I've accomplished (if I may say so) some fairly remarkable things. Built something good and strong and rich. I have (if I may say so) proved myself to be a leader.
The me who is welcome at the church I used to go to is not a leader. A singer, a nursery worker, a secretary, a Sunday School teacher, a maker of coffee. Maybe even a "worship leader." But not a leader.
I - me - my true self - I am not welcome there.