Intentional community
Most of you who have been reading this for any amount of time know that I have been having a hard time finding my feet in the social scene out here. Having kids just makes that harder, and that's the way it is. But one of the parts that's been going really well has been my church life. A couple months ago, I got asked to serve on the personnel committee, and that's been a nice entrance into the community, and last week, I agreed to be a rotation Sunday-school teacher, since Baz has started Sunday school, and it seems only right to support the enterprise.
My church is little. Not as little as Mineral, but by the standards of urban and suburban churches, it's kinda dinky. There are probably 60-75 people at my service, and I think the early service is only 15 or so. It's little, but it's friendly and progressive, and there are SOME kids. I go almost every Sunday I'm in town.
I think it is very important not to be a Christian in isolation. Being alone, and convinced that you don't need a church family, is a fine way to have an echo chamber of the soul. No one argues with your interpretation of scripture, no one pesters you, you can go ahead and talk to God however you want. Well, I talk to God however I want, and then I go to church, and these other people, my church family, they talk, too. And they serve and they call each other and sometimes I think they are wrong. And sometimes they think I am wrong. And when we run into that, then I have to sit with myself and figure out if maybe I really AM, if I am allowing wishful thinking or laziness to creep into my relationship with God.
I bet you know other people who believe passionately in something, and go to meetings, even at inconvenient times, and who spend money, and who travel, and who volunteer and give back to the community which has taken them in and made them feel at home. For many of you readers, those people are fen, or fans, or sci-fi geeks, or festies, or penny-smashers, or trivia kings, or sex-positive educators, or any of the thousand other things people can be engaged in. In that sense, church is no different than a con -- you get together to talk about something you all care about, and in order for the structure of that space to exist, the people who have the resources to do so give time and money to make it happen.
My church is little. Not as little as Mineral, but by the standards of urban and suburban churches, it's kinda dinky. There are probably 60-75 people at my service, and I think the early service is only 15 or so. It's little, but it's friendly and progressive, and there are SOME kids. I go almost every Sunday I'm in town.
I think it is very important not to be a Christian in isolation. Being alone, and convinced that you don't need a church family, is a fine way to have an echo chamber of the soul. No one argues with your interpretation of scripture, no one pesters you, you can go ahead and talk to God however you want. Well, I talk to God however I want, and then I go to church, and these other people, my church family, they talk, too. And they serve and they call each other and sometimes I think they are wrong. And sometimes they think I am wrong. And when we run into that, then I have to sit with myself and figure out if maybe I really AM, if I am allowing wishful thinking or laziness to creep into my relationship with God.
I bet you know other people who believe passionately in something, and go to meetings, even at inconvenient times, and who spend money, and who travel, and who volunteer and give back to the community which has taken them in and made them feel at home. For many of you readers, those people are fen, or fans, or sci-fi geeks, or festies, or penny-smashers, or trivia kings, or sex-positive educators, or any of the thousand other things people can be engaged in. In that sense, church is no different than a con -- you get together to talk about something you all care about, and in order for the structure of that space to exist, the people who have the resources to do so give time and money to make it happen.