[UPDATE: Sorry about the cartoon being cut off before. It should be fixed now.]
Alternate Title: Introvert Escape Route
I never really pondered what the words, “Skip to my Lou, my darling” meant…
…until we lived in Africa near a British family, who referred to our outhouse as The Loo. Now we had a song to sing on the journey to that amazingly scientific architectural wonder (that’s another post for another time–the science of the smell-proof outhouse, built utilizing principles which take advantage of symbiotic relationships in nature).
“Skip, skip, skip to the loo…”
Why am I, a mother who bans potty talk, bringing up this topic here on the world wide web? There must be a really good reason for violating my own sense of propriety in such a public way.
Well, actually, there is .
That really good reason would be this cartoon discovered at ASBO Jesus.
I currently am rather ambivalently looking for a church to be a part of (it’s not hard for me to be a part of the Body of Christ. Sometimes it’s hard for me to go to church.) Actually, I’ve sort of enjoyed visiting some vastly different churches. It appeals to the anthropologist in me to worship and learn and commune with different people in different ways. There is one thing, though, that I dread each week–Greet One Another Time.
It feels contrived. It feels fake. It feels awkward. Talk to me before church if you want. Or maybe afterwards (though you’ll have to be quick, because I probably won’t linger.) But don’t come up to me because somebody tells you have to, or because you feel sorry for me sitting there all alone. Or because I look grumpy. Or uncomfortable. Don’t smile the “I’m delighted to see you” smile. I don’t know why church greeting smiles drive me nuts. But they do.
I’m not anti-social. (Really 
) And I’m really not against greeting people. Or making visitors feel welcome. But it feels so fake and awkward to stand up and do it “on command” in the middle of a church service. I don’t need you to affirm that I exist in the middle of the service. Actually, I’d be more comfortable during the service if you forgot I existed. If you’re really interested in me, come sit beside me and talk for a few minutes before church. Ask me a few questions, and I’ll ask you a few, and we’ll make a connection. But don’t try to make me feel welcome in the middle of church just because that’s what you’re supposed to do.
In any case, after a recent visit to another new church (which I really liked, but which is too far away for me to attend every week, in good conscience), it dawned on me that I didn’t have to endure another greeting moment in the middle of church. Why not go hide in the bathroom during that part of the service?
Then, a short while later I discovered this cartoon. Surely it was a sign!
I don’t know if I’ll actually do this. The last thing I want is to draw attention to myself. And skipping to and from the loo when everyone is scavaging for visitors to greet might do that. However, picturing this cartoon during the next greeting time at church will definitely make me smile, and give me a vicarious escape from the factory-style socialization, enabling me to endure it without looking quite so awkward or grumpy.
Hehehe. That’s funny.
> I currently am rather ambivalently looking for a church to be a part of
Can I suggest an alternative?
Thinking about your dilemma combined with the movie “Michael Collins” has given me an idea. I’ll probably post on it in a couple weeks – if I can resist that long. Grrrr. Must let idea germinate. Grrrrr. >:-/
Anyway, back to your dilemma.
Perhaps you could consciously decide to attend the nearest church to your home that preaches a true gospel. I made this decision two years ago, and have never regretted it.
Benefits:
+ Open exposure to Christianity outside your comfort zone.
+ A clear reason to give when someone asks why you came. (And it’s kind of a fun reason. People with their fake smiles have to stop and decide whether to be insulted.)
+ A greater likelihood that people with whom you meet will live close enough to give and receive support during the week.
+ A really short drive (walk?) to church.
+ Easy availability when you want to “be there” for the church.
Drawbacks:
- Much greater chance you doctrinally won’t mesh with the church.
- Much greater chance you’ll never become a member, and therefore never be able to serve in official capacity.
- Maybe the church ends up being full of unpleasant people.
Ah, but the real reason:
You will probably be a different Christian than is usually comfortable there, and your presence will tend to move the church toward the Truth. Really. What if your nearest church is highly intellectual? The little insights you could drop would be so fresh to them, they would have an unusually great strength there. Of course, they would not always be received warmly, but a good heart plus willingness to be there for a long haul can make all the difference.
This is no call to change the church, only to be a unique believer in a community of otherwise similar followers of the same Lord. Being different can be hard, but a little leaven just might leaven the whole bunch. There’s some intellectual somewhere, even in that church, who has married a good old-fashioned emotional. You won’t be alone forever.
Just a thought, and a half-baked one at that. May the Lord bless your search.
Thanks for your well thought out input! I appreciate your help in breaking it down objectively into benefits and disadvantages. I’ve been sorting of leaning this way, but also resisting it, so I found your points incredibly helpful.
There is a church within walking distance. It seems perfect in every way, EXCEPT it scores 100 on all the disadvantages you listed (and then a couple more).
-I don’t doctrinally mesh with the church. I could probably be okay with that, as I’m so theologically paradoxical these days, I probably wouldn’t mesh well with any church….So, that one by itself wouldn’t keep me from going there.
-I really wouldn’t be able to become a member. However, that also doesn’t matter too much for 2 reasons: (1) not being a member has never kept me from being involved in the larger body life of a church and (2) I’m a woman and women don’t really serve in many “official” positions in a church of this denomination. So, membership or not wouldn’t really matter for my serving and encouraging and being in general fellowship with church life. (My gifts tend to be in the mercy and encouragement domains, which is convenient because you don’t have to be “official” to serve others in that way.)
–Your last disadvantage is the real rub. The church is full of really nice people. Sort of. Everyday, ordinary, competent, hard working, friendly people. Sweet and everything, but collectively and repeatedly, they tend to chew up and spit out pastors. Including one couple who are among my closest friends and were the pastors of that church before I knew them or the church. They (my friends) are, six years out, still recovering from that experience. Whenever I go to that church (and I’ve been a few times) I feel such sadness and grief to realize how casually people can do that. And even the ones who have not actively done so, have sat back passively, smiling and shaking hands, allowing others to take the “leadership” in being destructive. In my mind, if you sit back and watch somebody bully, and keep smiling passively through it, you are also guilty.
So, no matter that it is a fairly large church for our town, and growing. No matter that it is a fairly common, well known, ordinary, Bible-teaching, evangelical denomination. I am filled with sadness when I attend there. I’ve wondered, “Am I taking up the offense of my friends?” But, I don’t think so. (They think it would make sense for me to go there, since it is so close and the new pastor is nice enough, and there isn’t any blatant error being taught–although “no blatant error” is a long way from what I’d like to have, i.e. “solid teaching”….The one pastor in town who I thought taught with some depth recently committed suicide.) It’s not so much feeling angry and offended when I attend the church near my house as being overwhelmed with sadness and grief at contention and complacency in a particular church that allows nice, well meaning people to be so destructive and divisive, time after time. And I think, no matter how spiritual they seem, is that where I want to be connected?
Anyway, your idea is very good, and definitely NOT half-baked. Even though it sounds like I’m complaining and negating here, this process is actually helping me face my own hangups and seek God in a different way about this. Maybe I need to rethink attending the 2nd nearest church!
I had one idea–maybe I should go to a Spanish church (I speak Portuguese and can follow Spanish a bit, but this would definitely help me improve it!). Then, (1) I’d have to concentrate really hard on everything and wouldn’t be so easily distracted by random emotions such as grief and sadness and (2) my being different and feeling like I didn’t fit in would be so obvious and expected, it might not bother me as much as it does when I feel out of place in a church in my own culture.
I probably won’t do this, because right now I don’t have enough spare energy to use what I’ve got on cross-cultural and linguistically-challenging church. But, hey, I wouldn’t be able to come away frustrated that the teaching was shallow, if I was having to struggle to understand every word!
Thanks for your encouragement and how you’ve helped me to focus my thinking on this and also gear up my courage to pick a church and make myself at home there, instead of trying to find the “perfect” church home (which, of course, doesn’t exist
)
I look forward to reading the post that’s brewing in your mind.
> I probably wouldn’t [doctrinally] mesh well with any church
I certainly don’t.
In my current church, my doctrinal leanings have oddly been helpful to the whole body. The pastor is open and loving, so he has not spent the years trying to fix me. Instead, he’s allowed himself to be challenged by me and delivered a better product to the whole congregation as a result of his own labors.
> My gifts tend to be in the mercy and encouragement domains, which is convenient because you don’t have to be “official” to serve others in that way.
I’ve been slowly learning to become this kind of person, if only a little bit. I would usually much rather be the lazy guy getting all the glory, but I’m finding that actually working and caring for people is more profitable for us both. I’m one of those introverts who is happy in the spotlight.
> collectively and repeatedly, they tend to chew up and spit out pastors.
Ouch.
Really ouch.
I think for me the decider would be that they are large. I might give myself to a church like that in hopes of being a counter influence, though it might be pearls before swine stuff. It’s hard to know whether it’s a curable disease there. But nothing can cure the fact that it’s a large church and getting larger. I don’t think large churches can be fixed by anything, anyone, anyhow. More than 200 people, and it’s an edutainment venue, not a church.
Your Spanish church idea appealled to me too. There’s one across the street from the church I chose. In the end, I feared I would be more about the language lessons than the brotherhood. But I never closed the option!
> But, hey, I wouldn’t be able to come away frustrated that the teaching was shallow, if I was having to struggle to understand every word!
You ARE an optimist. I was afraid I’d have to struggle for every word only to be pained by its shallowness.
> the “perfect” church home
I’ve not given up on this, and I won’t. Here, I’ll be up front with you. I’m a wannabe subversive. I believe any church of more than 200 people is a mistake, all denominational boards are mistakes, and the body should be trained to minister to itself rather than hiring people to do it for them.
Very few people have any use for those thoughts, but sometimes some of the things I advocate can be useful to normal churches and normal people. I think going to the geographically nearest practical church is one of those things.
But I’ll keep looking for little churches where the people minister; warts and all, that’s perfect to me.
“I believe any church of more than 200 people is a mistake, all denominational boards are mistakes, and the body should be trained to minister to itself rather than hiring people to do it for them. ” I’m too ….. (not sure what the word is ) to say stuff like that out loud, but I think I must think it more than I let on even to myself. Because what you write sure resonates with me. I try not to judge too harshly or definitively, but, in general, I do feel quite similarly to you on this. At the same time, I’ve seen a lot of damage from people defining themselves and the church experiences they later seek to create as a reaction TO what they didn’t like about the Institutions (as they are wont to call “regular church”.
I appreciate your personal story and walk through some of these tensions. And I’m glad you are in a good place.
I’m ridiculously optimistic AND pessimistic. Don’t ask me how those two coexist without balancing each other out. Don’t ask me how I survive with such conflicting drives
Thanks again so very much for your dialogue on this with me.
> I’ve seen a lot of damage from people defining themselves and the church experiences they later seek to create as a reaction TO what they didn’t like about the Institutions (as they are wont to call “regular church”.
Add one to your tally.
My life is a splendid cautionary tale to those who might want recklessly to act on their desire to gamble everything on one roll of the church. Mine came up craps. I lost a good decade and a half in exchange for an awful lot of experience. One hopes a little wisdom was gained along the way too, but it’s hard to be sure.
Ah, but the good years of that church were like nothing I’ve seen before or since.
Today, I’m happy to be a small part of a small body of believers.
“Today, I’m happy to be a small part of a small body of believers”
Ahhhhh, Thanks for giving me such a succinct and precise way to state my longing and prayer regarding this whole church thing: “God, direct me to the place where I can be a small part of a small body of believers….”
At the root of it all, I know that is what I long for. I guess I sometimes forget that and get hung up on the extras when I go visiting:
Partly because of grief and sadness longing for what I’ve known in churches where I was before.
Partly because I’ve traveled so much and been part of so many churches in different cultures, sort of been comfortable everywhere and no longer at home anywhere with regards to my faith (well not the heart of my faith–just the extras and being able to connect to people and feel understood, when I am such a questioner and see things out of the box. It’s ironic, because personality wise I love to fit in boxes and be comfortable. But my life experiences have made it so I can no longer do that).
Partly because I’ve been in churches where my heart and mind have been stirred and moved by great and deep teaching. I long for that again, but it doesn’t seem I’ll find that in this town. And on one level, I’m okay with that. Because I’ve also seen that great teaching can happen apart from the spirit of God, and can also lead to great arrogance and low accountability. I’ve learned that deep, stirring teaching isn’t the end all to end all about church.
I’ve learned to let the Holy Spirit teach me through ordinary believers around me daily instead of thinking my teaching input needs to hinge entirely on one man’s words one day a week. But I still cringe when I sit in church and listen to most sermons. From this dialogue with you, I’m thinking I need to back up a bit on holding so tightly to this one expectation (well, actually there’s one other expectation with it–I want to gather at the the communion table each week as well and have that be taken seriously). The thing is, I know the Holy Spirit can and does work powerfully through humble servants who may not be profound speakers. I’m thinking I needed to be confronted with that reality again and make a choice to let go of my snooty expectations enough to connect with and hear the hearts of genuine and loving believers in local churches.
Thanks so much for talking out loud with me on this. It is immensely helpful (and a bit humbling to walk through this process out loud and publicly.)
eclexia, codepoke–
great discussion. seems a lot us are hugry for the same thing, but not sure how to interface with what exists.
eclexia–
i find it interesting that you say, “it is…a bit humbling to walk through this process out loud and publicly.” i find your understanding here of ‘humbling’ so wonderful–not about ‘knowing one’s place,’ as we so often think of it in a hierarchical way, but rather ‘knowing one’s self,’ through discussion and discovery.
peace–
scott
Thanks, Scott, for stopping by and commenting. I like how you said it, “not sure how to interface with what exists”.
It fits with what I was trying to articulate above about reacting to the ditch. It’s easier to reject the system and start over again. But, I think that misses the point, and we repeat the same struggles in different shapes when we do it. It is much more challenging to accept the weaknesses and struggles of church as we practice it, and interface in new and different ways. Not with the idea of fixing the problem, but of living out our relationship with God in that place and context. Unfortunately, there will never be a perfect place or context.
I want to learn to be content without ever being satisfied with things that aren’t good or right. Does that make sense? Contentment doesn’t mean my longing for something different or better ceases. Neither does it mean I stop being an influence of change (though that is rarely my agenda. I find change happens if we allow God to work in us as is, quicker than if we charge in with an agenda of how to fix the problem–whether my personal problems or larger, corporate problems). The contentment means I don’t have to strive against everything that is different or not how I think it should be done.
I can accept what is, remain open to change, grieve what isn’t, but be able to truly rest and trust God in that place, where so much seems not right (I’m not talking about “not right” like injustices and the like. Just the perpetual, ever present reality that all around, every person and every institution in this fallen world continues to fall short.) Keeping a restful heart in the current reality, while being open to change and facilitating change, sharpens my longing for something else. Plus, it is part of the whole humbling thing–I can’t alienate myself as better than…. when I have to face how acutely “falling short” I also am. This is very much an ongoing thing for me–not an ideal philosophy I’m shouting out from a place of consistent practice of “having it all together”
I also think your sentence would make a good title of a marriage book
: Interfacing with What Exists.
Thanks again for adding to this conversation. It is helping me in immensely practical ways. I’m always surprised when people follow along with my wordy processing! I have to use so many words to think things out. I don’t blog with some idea of actually being a good writer (or becoming a better one). I blog to think. And it takes me a lot of words to think out loud. So, the fact that people read my writing and all those words, and then interact with me about them–that’s a real blessing!
Eclexia,
> I want to gather at the the communion table each week as well and have that be taken seriously
Amen, Amen, Amen. I would even settle for the crackers and grape juice if done weekly and with heart.
We intentionally strove to take the Supper differently each time we took it (not weekly, but still). I think my favorite was sitting in a circle with one loaf of bread and one large cup of wine. We had all been studying, not the Supper but the sacrifice of Christ, and as each person passed to their right, they spoke a blessing as if Christ Himself were blessing. It takes a whole meeting to do that, but what else would one need to do?
eclexia, codepoke–
again, what a pleasure to listen over your shoulder(s) about these issues.
i don’t think it’s a problem to walk in to a new place with expecations and agendas–believe it or not, these are some of the gifts one brings to the table. in my experience in ministry, the agenda and expectations are the framework for getting started, setting standards, acting effectively and efficiently, especially at the beginning of an endeavor. the problem comes when i think the agenda, or my personal goal or vision, is more important than the underpinning of ministry (and fellowship). in every ministry endeavor i’ve been a part of, my agenda and expectations have been valuable–and in very short order the ministry looks nothing at all like what i planned or expected. when everything is said and done, even the ministries that don’t seem to work well are still of great value.
if you went to a small, 200 member, close-to-home church, what agendas and expectations would you bring to the table? and how flexible are you when ministry gets messy?
peace–
scott
Codepoke, that sounds like a very special service.
Scott, hmmm–more things to think about. I’ll start with your last question. How flexible am I when ministry gets messy? A lot less than I used to be. I’m weary. I’ve seen so much hurt. I have very little patience for trite sermons and trite songs. I have little energy for “going through the motions”, and it feels like motions are what a lot of churches do.
I think I agree with you that even the ministries that don’t seem to work out well are still of great value. It takes hope to believe that, and I have hope and confidence in God’s sovereignty in that way. I think, though, it takes more energy than I’ve got to plunge in and then hang in there with a local body at this point. I have seen God work in and through ministries that, humanly speaking, didn’t work out. I’ve been greatly blessed by one such ministry. But, though I believe that philosophically, I don’t want to risk living it out again, practically. Not when I’m so tired.
By the way, 200 members will always seem very large to me (originally coming from a town of under 2000!)
About expectations. I suppose mine are the good teaching, deep and honest (that’s important) fellowship, and taking communion seriously, as a bonus. Something more than going through motions.
Two personality things that go into this and make the process hard for me are: (1) it’s hard for me, even at the best of times, to meet new people and find my place in a new group (2) I am a detail person and see hundreds of details all at once, from many different angles. Seeing (I should say “feeling”) all the pros and cons of each church option overwhelms me, which is why your idea, Codepoke, is good.
The tiredness/burnout I live with is, I’m thinking, playing a bigger factor than I’d given it credit for. I don’t want to add one more wearying thing to my life. And I definitely don’t want church to be that one more wearying thing.
Good questions, Scott, and good answers Eclexia. I seem to be a bit further along in the healing process than you. Sorry about that.
But it happens. One day you find that damaged emotional muscle welcomes a little weight training, and next thing you know, you’re happy to be back in the game – even if you limp a little.
> if you went to a small, 200 member, close-to-home church, what agendas and expectations would you bring to the table?
People are smarter or deeper or more capable than the church allows them to be. I expect more of the people around me. I expect them to read, to pray deeply, to do. And for the most part, when encouraged and coached they do it. They never do what I expect, and they always do more than they did before the encouragement. And they grow proud of themselves in the most beautiful way, and begin contributing.
> and how flexible are you when ministry gets messy?
The question allows for helping people rebuild after a divorce or a fire, dodging bullets when a leader goes mad, becoming the focus of a tribunal, watching heresy take over a body, and even “being the problem”. I’m pretty comfortable with a lot of messes, and even thrive in them. Others knock my feet right out from under me. On the whole, though, I’m one of those people who’s only unhappy when bored. It’s when everything is sailing smoothly that I become a problem. I will actively, almost intentionally but not quite, stir up something to keep myself involved.
When I get bored with things, I quit them or break them. Eg. in tennis I completely tore down and rebuilt my game this year – after 30+ years, I decided to switch to semi-western on both sides, a new volley, a completely different serve, and singles instead of doubles. The only thing I have not changed is wearing a cowboy hat when I play.
If I could be in a series of churches with a series of messes, that would be the happiest thing in the world. That’s essentially what my job has been for the past 3 years, and I’ve loved that part of it.
Ah. I need to shut up. Open ended questions are like honey to me.
thanks, you guys. great ideas.
eclexia–
i’m intrigued with your skill of seeing details from different angles. any interesting stories about that? also, do you see pictures in your head of the descriptions you read? if so, it must make reading scripture very interesting.
codepoke–
ah, the dangers of being ‘dances with messes!’ one of the dangers i’ve seen, both by seeing it in pastors, and by doing it myself, is taking on the role of ‘dragonslayer.’ everyone appreciates a great dragonslayer–until the dragon is dead. then the dragonslayer’s skills cause problems–always looking at every single little problem as a dragon, even when it really isn’t.
what a pleasure to think out loud with you(s).
peace–
scott
p. s. i don’t know what denominations you(s) are, so i don’t know if you use the 3 year lectionary cycle in your churches, but i’ve started blogging on the lectionary readings. advent 1, year ‘a’ readings were this last week. if it is of interest, they are here: agnosticlectionary.blogspot.com
comment if it suits you. (three essays down, five hundred ninety-seven to go! i figure a twelve year project…)
“People are smarter or deeper or more capable than the church allows them to be.” That’s an interesting observation I need to sit on for a while. It seems true to me, but the implications are bigger than I think I’m grasping immediately.
As to the healing process and where I’m at–it really has very little to do with church directly, except that recovering from the other painful things I’ve walked through the last few years leaves me with little ability to tolerate difficulties in any relationship. It’s hard on the personal level, even harder on the institutional level. I’m glad to have you hold out hope that the emotional muscles will one day get stronger.
Scott, I’m afraid I don’t even know what a lectionary is. You can probably tell by my longing for churches to take communion seriously, that the majority of churches I’ve attended are not very liturgical. I’m thinking lectionary must be more from that tradition if it has to do with the church year, as the churches I’ve attended give even less attention to the church year than they do to communion. I’ll visit your blog longer later as I’m writing this now with kid chaos all around! I’m looking forward to learning more.
Thanks to both of you for your helpfulness.
Oh, and I’ll think if I can tell about the seeing things from different angles in a concise way……
Scott,
> dances with messes
[Grins.]
> what denominations you(s)
I’m a former Damentalist (what you get when you take the fun out of fundamentalist) and now darken the door of a Christian and Missionary Alliance church. We disagree on probably 3 of 7 major doctrines, but they are good folk and we bless each other.
I’ve had people explain the lectionary to me before and I nod my head politely, but it ain’t me. I don’t even follow the same recipe twice, much less the same conversation. If the nearest church to me were highly liturgical, I’d experiment with this utterly foreign concept, but the Lord was merciful to me.
Exclexia,
> I’m glad to have you hold out hope that the emotional muscles will one day get stronger.
Hmmmm. I don’t know you, nor your situation, nor how long it is, nor any detail that I can critique. That gives me a little freedom. If you don’t mind, I’ll take advantage of my ignorance to say some things that may not apply to you directly. This is just my experience healing emotional wounds (lots more to go) told through the experience of healing my knee after an ACL reconstruction. Hopefully, since I’m so uninformed, you can easily take what makes sense, reject what’s out of place, and forgive me if there’s nothing in here you haven’t heard 15 million times.
Healing a severed knee ligament:
+ Get cut and put back together by some dude in about 2 hours.
+ 3 days of being immobilized
+ 2 weeks of being immobilized except for about an hour a day. During that hour, in a very safe, controlled situation, bend and straighten your knee as far as you can, firmly against the pain. You have to use your hands to physically bend that knee, because the muscles around it will not do what needs to be done. Always finish with ice and rest. Eat extra protein.
+ Go from being immobilized to wearing a very serious brace.
+ 2 months of lifting weights with the knee. Start with an empty bar. Work up to 20 pounds or so. 60 pounds is a normal weight. Keep icing and eating well.
+ Somewhere during all this, add balance exercises. Stand on the one leg, and play catch – stuff like that. It was about the scariest thing I remember of the whole process, but it was done in a safe place with a good physical therapist so I did it anyway – barely.
+ The brace is no longer needed during everyday activity.
+ 6 more months of doing more until the leg can actually do more than it could before it was injured.
+ 9 months after that 2 hour surgery, the knee is now completely healed, but your mind still treats it like it could fall apart at the slightest touch. You have to push it through all its paces over and over again before the brain will quit protecting it.
+ Now I’m the fastest guy on the court, bar none. I still have to wear the serious brace (the surgery must not have been perfect) or my knee tendonitis flares up, but no one drop-shots me from the baseline – ever.
Keeping the knee immobilized is an odd thing. The ligament will heal normally even if you do none of the rehab, but the knee will never work right again. The ligament will be strong as a bull moose, but the muscles around it and the brain that drives them will be atrophied. Rehab is not for the injury. It’s to remove the crutches, and train the mind to use the injured part again.
Knees are a lot easier to heal than souls, but the same principles seem to apply. Our emotions heal before we trust them enough to lean on them.
Please forgive my forwardness.
I’m actually drawn to the routine and predictability of liturgical churches. The two far away churches I visited and would have gone to in a heartbeat if they are closer are Anglican Mission in America. It’s not so much routine for the sake of routine that I like. I love that they do things systematically, because it feels like more ground is covered that way–huge portions of Scripture are read through every week. And taking communion seriously. I also love the Lutheran concept of vocation. More than any other church I’ve attended (even churches with homeschooling families), I feel value and worth is given to being a mom. That, and all vocations where God places you are equally valuable venues for living out ones walk with the Lord.
How that plays out in “real life” I don’t know yet. Meaning, it’s another thing when people find I’m a single mom trying to stay home and homeschool my son with learning disabilities, and also be there as much as possible for my other three children rather than doing the obvious thing of working full time. In general, what I’m doing seems crazy and not very wise to many believers, no matter how highly they value the concept of motherhood. Some days I think it is crazy myself. But, we’re still making it financially, so that’s a good thing. But, I ramble.
There is a tiny Lutheran church nearby, which I visited a few times and like a lot. First because of the older people who attend there. Being around older people is such a comfort to me when I’m older. Even before I get to know them individually, their lives hold out the hope of survival through incredible challenges, struggles and pain.
Secondly, the church service is so lowkey and slow that I feel like I can hear the Holy Spirit–definitely not edutainment there!
And thirdly, the communion service seems like how it should be done.
The church doesn’t do small groups, so I’m wondering–do people ever connect outside of church? Are they the body of Christ outside the body?
Granted, a lot of these, I’m seeing, are personality preferences. I don’t know the meaning of boring. What you feel when things get too calm, I think must be similar to what I feel when things are in crisis too long or perpetually changing.
The real reason I haven’t decided for sure to attend there is that I need to sit down and talk to the pastor. I’ve picked up some vibes that maybe I have to be totally on the same page as them doctrinally to take communion with them, and I want to honor that if that is true, even though, to me, that sort of misses the point of it being communion–a gathering of the saints to the table to remember and proclaim.
Scott and Codepoke, I’ve picked up bits and pieces from reading your blogs that you have your own stories of your spiritual journey to where you are today. Have you told those in a particular post(s) on your blog? I am drawn to hearing people’s stories.
(And that, Scott, is a tiny part of the answer to your question about how I see things from so many different angles–I take in stories in every form right alongside of my own life experiences. They are filed in this strange emotional memory of mine. Once I’ve heard it, I can recall what it felt like to experience or think of something from the perspective of that other person. It’s like a catalog with automatic retrieval. In a new situation or hearing a new story, I draw from all that accumulated information and without trying, can see things from the perspectives and background of many other people. It doesn’t replace how I think or my own opinions, but it does always keep me aware that there’s another way of looking at things or understanding them. I don’t see the angles as pictures. I think about them somewhat logically, but always anchored to the emotions that root the memory or perspective into my brain.)
That’s the short version (! as if I say anything briefly!)
Codepoke, My last comment just crossed with yours, and now my 4-year-old and I are going to play a game. But, let me just say you aren’t being too forward. I’m truly grateful for your input and concern. And secondly, I’m a brainstormer. I love input (as long as it is not definitive, like I’m stupid if it doesn’t fit and I don’t do it
.
And, thirdly, the knee analogy is definitely not one I’ve heard before! I love parallels and I love analogies, so you’ve given me some good things to think about.
Thanks.
> Have you told those in a particular post(s) on your blog? I am drawn to hearing people’s stories.
Good question. I’ve held off, so far. I’ve told parts of it, but I’m not really sure which parts those were, and they’re scattered all over the place.
I told a fairy tale for my nieces once, though.
It’s about 40 pages long spread across 6 posts. :-/ This search seems to find all 6 chapters in order.
http://familyhoodchurch.blogspot.com/search?q=cinderella
Thanks for the link. I’m always impressed at people who can tell stories! What a nice thing for your niece–sort of like the friends of Beatrix Potter (were they nieces/nephews/friends? I don’t remember) that she originally wrote her stories to in the form of letters.