A Reflection on Finding Community in the Church

“It’s hard to find community,” they say. I sit across from them at Starbucks or at my dining table and listen to them share about the difficulty of finding people they connect to, people with whom they can build a solid friendship and grow together in faith. “They” have been college students, single young adults, and married couples. “They” have been both laypeople and staff members, newcomers and long-standing members of the church.

I’ve wondered why this is the case for so many of us, why it’s so hard to find the community we all long for, and over time, I noticed several patterns in our expectations of church and in our relationship with her.

Read what I’ve learned and what we can do to create and cultivate community over at The Mudroom.

Writing in the Wilderness

It’s been ten months since we moved from Las Vegas, but it still feels like we’re in transition. I’m over at The Mudroom today talking about being in the middle of the wilderness:

“We’re in our mid-thirties with two kids. We’re living with parents while others our age are buying homes and storing away for retirement 30 years down the road or less. We left a home, mild traffic (this is something when Southern California traffic can be hell on earth), and good insurance. We moved back home with the excitement of God doing new things in our lives and a willingness to follow Him wherever He leads us. But the novelty of change soon became dull, and we entered into the long in-between.”

Read more over at The Mudroom.

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Also, I haven’t written here much, but here are some links to catch up on my posts at The Mudroom and GraceTable:

The Mudroom

For Where I Have Approval, There My Worth Will Be Also
Coping by Escaping
Books as Soulmates

GraceTable

Love Can Be Prickly
Finding Hope in an Unlikely Place
Manna in the Desert

Where I’m Supposed to Be

photo-1431660370894-11a187f8cf92I started a couple dozen posts about ending our 7 years in Las Vegas and entering into this new season back in California. Phrases and sentences were jotted down, but the words fell short of the enormity of my feelings. I stayed silent, grieved, cried a million tears, and barely wrote a thing while we transitioned.

But now we’re here, and I was finally able to match the words to my feelings in this post I wrote for The Mudroom.

Coming home usually fosters feelings of comfort, peace, ease, but instead a stifling pressure rises in my chest. What am I doing here? Why did we move back? Like a wild horse being bridled, I’m frantic inside. Everything in me wants to run away till my lungs hurt and the tears fall freely…

Click here to read more.