The other night I was planning to post some thoughts about community. But community happened instead.
I've been learning a lot about community lately because I've been in transition. For about a year now the dream of having My Own Place has never been far from my mind. Last week the dream became reality - but at the last minute, I almost bailed.
When I left home nine years ago I moved into what you could call an "intentional community." I don't like that phrase because it's redundant. You can share space and meals and responsibilities, even pray together, but you cannot have real community without being intentional. Anyway, it's been a joy and until recently I had hardly considered living any other way. But this past year it's become obvious to me that I'm [gasp] not nineteen anymore and that having a bit more space to call my own could be a good and healthy thing. My Own Place became an ever-intensifying desire.
So last week I made a bold move of independence and faith and rented an apartment a whole mile away from the house where I've lived and worked with our ministry staff. The process of buying dishes and tea towels, shoving my stuff in my car, and moving in was exciting, until it hit me: wait a minute! I hate being alone!
I mean, I really hate it. I have been called a great many things in my life, but "introvert" is definitely not one of them. My Own Place morphed to My Lonely Place as I began to feel isolated and alone before I'd spent a single night at the apartment.
One thing I've learned over the past few years: when overwhelmed by feelings of isolation, seek out community! So I called my roomies together - you know, all the girls whose house I'd been dreaming of moving out of - and asked for prayer, which they graciously provided. Over the next couple of days I began seeking input from others and praying like crazy.
It was a good process. It forced me to recognize that the idea of My Own Place had become a refuge for me over the past year. A reality check told me that Christ alone is my hope, and shelf space and my own bathroom and food that hasn't been labeled with a Sharpie are not rights to be demanded. I also had to confront my fear of being left high and dry financially. When it finally came down to it, I felt that it was still the right thing to move in and hesitantly did so.
I couldn't have moved out of "community" without the help of my community. Whether they were carrying heavy things or encouraging me when I didn't know what to do or coming over to hang out to help ease the transition, I needed these people, and they were there.
I love how God designed us to need one another. It's really his mercy, isn't it? Independence won't just keep us from meaningful friendships - it will keep us from the cross. Community reminds me that I could never be ok on my own - and by the grace of God, I don't have to be.
The funny thing is that I've been far more intentional about community since I moved out of it. My time with people has been focused - not just sitting in the same room hiding behind my computer or iPhone (the Internet should only enhance real-life community, not replace it). I'm increasingly aware of how much our lives were meant to be shared.
So the other night, when two of the staff girls dropped by (no doubt to keep me from feeling lonely), and then one of my former students arrived as they were leaving, I had no complaints about my post on community being delayed. As my second visitor and I shared a good old-fashioned heart-to-heart on my couch, I thought to myself, "This is what it's all about."
I've been learning a lot about community lately because I've been in transition. For about a year now the dream of having My Own Place has never been far from my mind. Last week the dream became reality - but at the last minute, I almost bailed.
When I left home nine years ago I moved into what you could call an "intentional community." I don't like that phrase because it's redundant. You can share space and meals and responsibilities, even pray together, but you cannot have real community without being intentional. Anyway, it's been a joy and until recently I had hardly considered living any other way. But this past year it's become obvious to me that I'm [gasp] not nineteen anymore and that having a bit more space to call my own could be a good and healthy thing. My Own Place became an ever-intensifying desire.
So last week I made a bold move of independence and faith and rented an apartment a whole mile away from the house where I've lived and worked with our ministry staff. The process of buying dishes and tea towels, shoving my stuff in my car, and moving in was exciting, until it hit me: wait a minute! I hate being alone!
I mean, I really hate it. I have been called a great many things in my life, but "introvert" is definitely not one of them. My Own Place morphed to My Lonely Place as I began to feel isolated and alone before I'd spent a single night at the apartment.
One thing I've learned over the past few years: when overwhelmed by feelings of isolation, seek out community! So I called my roomies together - you know, all the girls whose house I'd been dreaming of moving out of - and asked for prayer, which they graciously provided. Over the next couple of days I began seeking input from others and praying like crazy.
It was a good process. It forced me to recognize that the idea of My Own Place had become a refuge for me over the past year. A reality check told me that Christ alone is my hope, and shelf space and my own bathroom and food that hasn't been labeled with a Sharpie are not rights to be demanded. I also had to confront my fear of being left high and dry financially. When it finally came down to it, I felt that it was still the right thing to move in and hesitantly did so.
I couldn't have moved out of "community" without the help of my community. Whether they were carrying heavy things or encouraging me when I didn't know what to do or coming over to hang out to help ease the transition, I needed these people, and they were there.
I love how God designed us to need one another. It's really his mercy, isn't it? Independence won't just keep us from meaningful friendships - it will keep us from the cross. Community reminds me that I could never be ok on my own - and by the grace of God, I don't have to be.
The funny thing is that I've been far more intentional about community since I moved out of it. My time with people has been focused - not just sitting in the same room hiding behind my computer or iPhone (the Internet should only enhance real-life community, not replace it). I'm increasingly aware of how much our lives were meant to be shared.
So the other night, when two of the staff girls dropped by (no doubt to keep me from feeling lonely), and then one of my former students arrived as they were leaving, I had no complaints about my post on community being delayed. As my second visitor and I shared a good old-fashioned heart-to-heart on my couch, I thought to myself, "This is what it's all about."
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