Church?

I've gone to church my entire life.

I've been to Sunday School, Youth Group and Adult services.

I've been a leader; I've been a follower and I've even spent seasons of life not going to church at all.

To be honest, I've always seen "church" as a gathering of people for a few hours in a building.

There are programs and classes.

We all get dressed up.

We sing songs.

We listen to the announcements.

We take communion.

We greet our neighbors.

We listen to the sermon and take notes.

We pick our kids up from Sunday School.

We go to lunch.

We go home.

Lately, I have been learning alot about community.

I've read in the book of Acts that the early church made a regular practice of attending a worship service together, eating dinner together and celebrating. They shared everything they had. They made sure everyone's needs were met.

How strange.

Who gave the announcements?

Who headed the committees?

Who handled the sound system?

Who operated the video?

Who ran the church office?

It seems like the early church was more of a commune than a church service.

They ate together every day.

They were always looking out for everyone's needs.

They CELEBRATED.

To be honest, I have had a hard time picturing it.

I've longed for it.

But I haven't been sure what that would like look in America.

Last Monday my husband moved out.

It's not entirely a bad thing. He moved out to find Jesus; to deal with the patterns in his life that just wont die.

We've been moving in and out of sadness and selfishness and destruction for five years.

This is the most honest and healthy place we have ever been.

He is working to come home.

But he is still gone. And I am incredibly sad and lonely.

The day he left my girlfriend Stephanie moved in. The next night her husband and two dogs came too.

They HAVE a house. They HAVE lives.

But they are here, every day and every night.

They have stayed up with me, watching TV till 12:30 in the morning. She has let me pour out my heart over and over again. She has spoken words of hope and celebration into me even though I have been hopeless and grieving.

They have carried the weight of my babies for me. They make lunch and dinner. They change diapers and help with baths. They tell stories and take walks.

I have not, for one moment, felt alone.

Yesterday morning I woke up and realized...

This is church.

Church is sleeping on an air mattress in my son's room.

Church is cleaning my house.

Church is eating every meal with me; constantly letting me know that they are IN this with us.

Church is my girlfriend Alisa showing up without hesitation to let me cry and to fold all my laundry and put it away.

Church is my oldest friend, Nicole, flying in to celebrate my son's first birthday and spending every minute of this weekend with me; helping me process.

Church is my dad taking Aravis to school so that I can go to Holy Yoga.

Church is my mom coming over to watch the kids so I can clean the house for Judah's birthday party.

Church is my cousin bringing vegan ice cream sandwiches over.

Church is Tassie calling me from Belize.

Church is Carol saying, "yep. this is humiliating."

Church is Travis saying that he has hope; that's he's not worried about Joe turning to his flesh.

Church is Jonni calling and Lisa texting.

Church is Bethany coming over for dinner and yoga.

Church is Jennifer offering her empty house for an escape.

Church is countless people I don't even know well writing to say that they are praying.

Church is the community that rises up around you to sink down into a dark, dark place.

Church is holy.

Church is people.

Church is the Spirit of God flowing from heart to heart.

Church is a celebration in the midst of disaster.

Church is not, and has never been, a building or a program.

Church is community.

And I am so glad that I am a part of Church.