Why don’t I go to church?

I remember the first Sunday of summer 2005 after leaving Gardner-Webb University. I came back home as a college dropout, trying to re-purpose my role in church. I had a chat with Earl Brigham in his office—he was leading the FBCCF Deaf ministry at the time—and guess what he told me?

“You can leave if you want. I won’t be offended.”

Yeah… that was not something I ever expected to hear from Earl. This is the same guy who was a very conservative, soul-winning evangelical preacher, who spent his entire ministry chasing “lost souls” to bring them back to the Lord or convert them to Christianity. But apparently, when it came to me, the door was wide open.

Even though I could leave, I decided to stay—just not as much. My attendance dropped a lot because of my work schedule. I didn’t hang out much. I didn’t party. I didn’t have that so-called “college dropout freedom phase.”

My first two years in my 20s—ages 20 to 22—were literally just work. That’s it. Work, then sometimes hang out at Festival Bay or Millenia Mall on payday, and then straight home. Not exactly your typical 21-year-old adult life… but hey, living the dream, right?

In my childhood years, I didn’t go to church regularly from ages 0 to 8 because it wasn’t really part of our early family lifestyle, even though African American church culture still influenced my early childhood—my grandfather Louis himself was a Baptist pastor. I went to Grandaddy Louis’ church many times, but there was no sign language interpreter, so I mostly played around while Louis was preaching. But at age 11, we went to Aunt Dot’s church in Sanford, Florida, where I listened to Grandaddy Louis’ sermon for the first time—and it also ended up being the last time, because he passed away the following year—with my mom serving as the interpreter. I still remember some of what Louis preached.

1994 and 1995 were the biggest, special, life-changing years for my parents—my mom and Jon, my stepdad (we call him bonus dad). They met each other in an ASL class at church, ended up married, and church involvement became the anchor of this new family lifestyle. Church attendance was mandatory for everyone in the household—yes, even my friends who stayed over on weekends. My mom even micromanaged my church attendance at FSDB, which was two hours away from Orlando. If I didn’t go to the Lutheran worship service or Bible study at FSDB, the dorm staff would rat on me to my mom. So church attendance became my duty, not my desire. Honestly, while 1994–95 were my mom’s “blessings years,” they marked the beginning of my psychological destruction. From what I understand, someone’s blessings don’t automatically mean they’re good for everyone else.

Yes I attended the service or bible study at FSDB because my mom said so,when I didn’t, I got myself in big trouble with parents at home on Friday after arriving Orlando, and even on weekends when I stayed at FSDB for special events like wrestling tourhnmane which typical happen on Saturdays, when my mom learned that I didn’t go to church on weekend she asked my assistant wrestling coach about church situation, the coach said I can go to his church. My mom asked “Which church” He said Pentecostal. As baptist woman herself, she had some odd with Pentecostal but as long as they preach the same Jesus, that’s fine.

When I turned 18 while still attending FSDB—my senior, final year—I changed my church attendance from mandatory to optional. I didn’t attend Bible study every week like I used to because the dorm staff had no say or leverage anymore, although that did concern my mom. After wrestling season was over, I stopped attending Bible study altogether because I was upset with Coach Maurice, who led the Bible study that time. But that didn’t stop my parents from sharing their concern about my lack of involvement in Bible study or Christian fellowship at FSDB whenever I came home from St. Augustine every Friday.

Even though I had pride in my ministry involvement and opportunities that most church kids never had, and my beliefs were real, I never really enjoyed the culture of church lifestyle. I remember getting up really early on Sunday mornings, like 5am, because our family of six (after Grandaddy Louis passed away) lived in a three-bedroom, one-bathroom place, so everyone had to take turns using the bathroom. Breakfast and devotion at 7am, first Sunday school at 8am, then leaving the FBCCF west campus for the 9:30am Deaf Ministry worship service, then fellowship, then Deaf Sunday school at 11am, and home around noon—or sometimes staying for lunch. During the school year I’d leave Orlando around 3pm, but during no-school weeks, usually summer, we’d be back at church again at 4pm for evening worship service. Heavy, stressful schedule. My parents enjoyed it? Maybe. Siblings enjoyed it? Not that I know, but I guess sometimes. Me? I hated the shit out of it.

My beliefs have evolved a lot, but I believe Sunday is the day we reset our psychological conditioning for the following week—not rituals. The Bible says Sabbath = rest day. I know many people interpret that differently, but for me, Sunday is my reset day to refresh my mind for the upcoming week. In my apatheistic view, I don’t think God cares whether I go to church or not. For example, imagine my meeting with God goes like this:

Me: I went to church today.

God: That’s cool.

Me: Uh… I went to church. I even led the prayer at Sunday School.

God: Good. What do you want from me, a medal?

Me: What?

God: Never mind. I’m not saying you don’t need to go to church—but whether you go or not doesn’t change how I feel about you.

Me: But it’s all about you—that’s the reason I go to church.

God: Yes, but that’s not necessary. Honestly, I don’t care.

Me: Well, they say…

God: Listen—whether you attend or not doesn’t impact how I see you. If someone has a problem, that’s on them, not you or me. I’m not going to make your life difficult over a lack of attendance or whatever silly expectation.

Using Sunday to reset my mentality is my goal. I’m not about to put myself and Malik in a stressful situation—waking up early on a cold morning to catch a bus, spending money on Uber, or begging someone for a ride—just to make it to a 9am worship service. I keep Sunday simple and plain. Bored? Perfect. I’d rather have a boring, stress-free day than chase fake productivity just to feel “busy for the Lord” and validate my self-worth. And if my lack of attendance hurts church business… Well, that sounds like their problem, not mine.

If your social support system suffers because of a lack of church attendance, maybe you should consider a new support system that isn’t tied to a church community. That’s my tip. Happy Sunday!