Well, that came outta nowhere

Les and I have visited 14 different churches since December. F O U R T E E N.

We landed in NC with "Find a Church Home" just one or two line items below "Find a Place to Live" and "Find the Box with the Coffee Maker" on the to-do list. Les had already done internet research and narrowed our prospects list to roughly 10 places, which he planned to narrow to 5 after listening to an online sermon from each of his Top Ten. He listened to sermons, and I started asking around. Somewhat telling of our different approaches to life, eh?

Anyway, the sermons helped eliminate several, my perusal of their websites (women in leadership? service opportunities? international work? what do they say about Jesus?) pared the list at first, but soon the suggestions and referrals started rolling in. We watched our list expand and contract. We visited places. We liked some, ran screaming from a few, and realized our checklist and deal breakers and "gut" were inadequate for the task.

Pretty soon we were lying awake at night trying to decide if doctrine was more important than service, if we could be part of a church that is tied to this or that denomination, whether conservative social positions were a deal breaker, and how good of a "match" did we need to find before we just hold our breath, pinch our nostrils, and dive in.

We started going to an Anglican church. Neither of us had ever been to an Anglican church before, but the pastors were warm and engaging and challenging in a way that we hadn't yet seen in our search. The congregation was NOT diverse, NOT exactly pursuing ministry and service as a collective calling (more on that later), and probably the wealthiest room full of people I have been in - maybe ever.

But there was something. Something I couldn't quite figure out. Les felt it too - a rumbling. Like the murmurs of discontent and hunger and searching were really getting rolling there. They are relocating their church to the edge of what most of Raleigh would consider, ahem, the "ghetto" for lack of a better descriptor. They are  talking about service and community and ministry in their small groups. They are looking, asking, talking, praying. They are setting out their silver tea service sets (not joking) in their newly renovated vintage-estate-home-turned-church-office while looking out the window at the lot that will soon hold their brand-new church building and saying "Wow. We have no idea what to do. But here we are."

I think at least some of the congregation really feel called to that corner of town, while others are probably researching electric fences for their parking lot. But isn't that how it goes? Isn't the church always going to be a collection of people muddling through their calling and fear and passions and questions together? We feel hopeful that we can really contribute, and invest alongside them as we all work out together that living Jesus with your neighbors is hard, good work. And it is what is required! Let's go! We're excited! We would move down there!

Easy for us to say, right? We just got here. And now we're meeting with pastors and asking them things like "So what is your vision for loving your new neighbors?".

All the while, I've been bemoaning my lack Jesus-loving women friends down here. And this church, frankly, makes me nervous on that front. Could I be friends with these peeps? Can I get off my soapbox and my greener/simpler/more-enlightened-than-thou sinful self righteousness long enough to find some real community in a church full of well-heeled and glamorous people? Can I prevent my heart from leaping into judgey jealousy when the very very beautiful and extremely kind and friendly woman in front of me in church introduces herself and we have a really great conversation and my insecurity makes me worry that she is wondering why the hell I have let myself go? Meanwhile I'm wondering how much her bracelet cost?

Oh, and Les and I keep reading great books and essays about discipleship, the incredibly costly version of love that Jesus calls us to, and the ways the Church has been biffing up on these points for about 2,000 years. Us included.

Ha Ha, Jesus, very funny. Veerrrryyyy funny.

So with all that swirling around in my head, I bit the bullet and accepted an invitation from a brand new friend at the above-mentioned Anglican church for us to go to a Wednesday night Bible study/community group that the church is just starting to get rolling. The other members of the group have been meeting together for about 7 months. They invited us to come. I can't speak for Les, but I felt like I was getting ready for a date. I was nervous. I bit my nails in the car. We had no idea what to expect. But then we arrived and things got really really real. They are not messing around. Their lives are messy, like everyone's, and they are laying them pretty bare. Praying, reading, talking, studying. Slowly, but surely.

I felt like I had just jumped into a pool on a scorching hot day. My anxiety flashed and burned up into a happy glow of hope and excitement. Could it be? Could we have stumbled into a huddle of People really trying to Live and encourage one another? And serve together? And lift each other up? And reach out? They talked about Henri Nouwen, so that's a good sign, right?

We milled around talking with everyone when they wrapped up the study. I was trying to talk more with some of the other women there, asking more about them and trying to see if we may have some more in common after all. And then, out of nowhere, one of my new acquaintances says "The Olympics are fun, but I cannot WAIT for Shark Week!".

And my heart felt at home for the first time since December 2.