There are eighteen days until Easter.

I’ve been out of church for a little over seven months. This is my first Easter as an unchurched person. I don’t think I’ve ever missed church on Easter. Ever.

You see my dilemma?

Even unchurched people usually go to church on Christmas and Easter, right? And I did go at Christmas…to the Christmas program, which was mostly music. That was somewhat easy.

But Easter…

Easter is when churches pull out all the stops. Dresses, heels, ties, suits, even the occasional hat…all the best clothes. The extremes of both somber and lively music. The message of death and resurrection {with a dose of pastoral manipulation thrown in to attempt to guilt all the unchurched attenders into coming back the following Sunday}.

I am close to wringing my hands over this situation. If I only had myself to consider, it would be a no-brainer; I just wouldn’t go.

But my husband and three girls will expect to go to church on Easter. After all, we haven’t declared ourselves atheists or agnostics…yet. {Calm down…kidding!}

The very thought of stepping foot in a church gives me all kinds of anxiety…to the point that my breathing becomes ragged and shallow. I seriously don’t think I can handle it. And, God knows if I do, I’ll need to take some kind of tranquilizer to keep me from losing my cool at the first manipulative tactic. {I’m not kidding.}

Seriously. My husband was fully prepared to turn around and yell at the pastor had he made one comment when our family stood to leave after the music portion during the Christmas service. {Yes, that particular pastor has been known to make snarky comments from the pulpit about people coming in late or leaving early.} So you see, neither of us are really in the best frames of mind to be going to church.

I went shopping for Spring clothes for my daughters yesterday, and the stores were slammed with Easter dresses. Instead of thinking happy thoughts about how pretty my girls would be, I was overwhelmed with dread:

Will we go to church? If so, where? {I know where we won’t be going…at least that much is easy.} Will I be able to sing along with the congregation, or will I just stand there and cry? Will I be able to sit through a service, or will I just need to excuse myself and hide in the bathroom? Will I even be able to crack a smile? Will I even care that Easter is ultimately about God making all things new? I seriously don’t think I can go to church and fake it. At. All.

I totally get how negative I am about church. {You don’t need to leave me a comment telling me so…pretty please.} But here’s the thing. Why are we so worried about negativity towards the church anyway? We certainly don’t mind expressing our displeasure about any-and-every-thing else in our culture. But it’s like church is off limits…like if we mention something negative about it, the church’s reputation will be ruined, and no one will want to go. I hardly believe that’s the problem… {I’ve started meddling. I’ll just move on.}

Back to Easter…

I remember going to a sunrise service with my mother around the age of 10 or 11. The air was crisp, and the sun was just beginning to burn brightly. We stood among strangers at the edge of a graveyard, and sang Easter hymns like “Up From the Grave He Arose” and “He Lives.” We went to church later that morning, but that sunrise service was the highlight for me. Creation screamed new life that morning {even if it was at a cemetery}, although it took years for me to understand why that moment seemed so magical. Every year since, I’ve thought about that particular Easter morning.

I guess what I’d really like to do on Easter Sunday is load up my girls in their pjs and go to a field of wildflowers just before dawn to watch the sun come up. I’d like to hear the echoes of angels singing Hallelujah!  and raise my voice in harmony. I’d like to stand there and believe that God is making not only the church new, but me as well.

Realistically, the closest I’ll probably come to that scenario is watching the sun come up over the trees from my back deck while Dolly Parton bellows “He’s Alive” over the radio speakers.

And church? Well, I’ve got 18 days to decide.