Confession: I Stopped Going to Church

Here's a story of me trying to get back.

Mar 19, 2026

I’m parched. I’ve been parched. And I’ve been looking for water in a desert of mirages. The thoughts entered my mind as I sat there at the very back of the church auditorium during worship. I was late that day. I was going to meet up with a friend after the service to do some lettering. The plan was not to be late, but I was not prioritizing getting there on time.

When I was looking for a new place to live in 2024, I knew I wanted to be closer to my church. God blessed me with an apartment that was not only a huge upgrade, but was a short 10 minute bus ride away from church. I was so grateful. I was definitely not expecting to attend church less, and yet, that’s what started happening.

I can’t really say why or how, except that I tend to put comfort and ease above those things I know I should be doing. It’s a terrible habit. And it doesn’t take much. Once you do it twice it becomes much easier to keep doing it. And so I found myself sliding down the slippery slope which led to my couch where I could watch the livestream of the service from the comfort of my own home.

It doesn’t help, I told myself, that the pastor can be hard to follow. I don’t like his style of preaching all that much. But I have to look at myself and say that’s not the point. I’m there to hear the word of God and His word does not return void. I have to remind myself, too, that I feel better when I do go to church. I get to see and talk to God’s people, and worship music just hits differently in person.

Last month, my friend and I decided to start meeting up again to work on some art together. I suggested meeting up after the service on Sunday, probably as a way to get myself to finally show up. I only caught the last half of the sermon because I was late, but I was convicted of the disobedience I’d allowed myself. I was convicted (not for the first time) of idolizing comfort.

I realized the living water I desperately thirst for is found on Sunday mornings at church. Not in the building itself, not in the pews, but in the living and active word of God that is preached in sermon and in song. It’s found in the faces and embrace of sisters and brothers in Christ, in connection. Yet, I had been staying away chasing a stale, dirty puddle.

God, being the gentle & loving Father He is, met me where I was. He used my love for art to get me back in church. The struggle is still real, though. The temptation to stay in bed is real. My couch and TV are so conveniently always there, ready when I want them. It might just be laziness or stale faith, but social anxiety doesn’t help.

I must admit I have been in a dry season. Everything feels dry. I’m parched and looking for water in things that can’t deliver. Absurdity, I know. But I also know that God will not leave me nor forsake me and He will bring me back into His fold. So, this Sunday I’m planning on going to church and I need you to hold me accountable.