Wednesday, November 8, 2006

Dear God,

I attended an all-day conference seminar today. When it concluded we were given time to ask questions. A pastor participant asked an off-the-wall question that had nothing to do with the topic at hand. "Whatever happened to "community" in our conference?" Two hours later we were still "chewing" on the subject.

Whatever happened to community? I think Jesus probably did the best job of creating community when he told Peter, "you are the rock and upon this rock I will build my church." The design was to gather people together, share their lives and faith with one another, and go out to serve the world. During those times together and apart trust would be built, people could share the deeper parts of their lives and feel connected to persons who genuinely cared. As a people who felt a sense of belonging, they went out to build community with others.

It doesn't always happen. My sense of community, true community where I feel loved and I can love, where I can bare my soul without judgement or cynicism comes within my covenant group. I have built a spiritual, communal life with my spiritual friends and colleagues. I have tested the waters at times when I was in a crisis and they have never failed to listen, to pray, to ask deeper questions like, "where is God in this?". We sometimes shock one another in our sharing because today too few people trust enough to be brutally honest about themselves. We are able to do this in our group.

I feel a sense of community on a particular level in my church. I feel a part of the church. I feel needed, loved by many and I return my joy, affirmation and support to those around me who are willing to share in community. I lead the church into opportunities for community when I offer retreats and/or small group experiences. However, I am not comfortable baring my soul to just any one person at any time. (Interesting how I bare my soul to you and allow others to peek into this relationship) Not that I am judging anyone, God forbid, I am simply saying that we need to be lead into more intimate groups where a deeper level of community can take place. I believe that God places people in our lives with whom we will naturally begin to relate. The fellowship groups at church are designed to be places for community. Our mission group of eight who traveled to the Hurricane Katrina depressed area in Mississippi to do mission work had no idea they would develop community among themselves and yet that's exactly what they did.

Community comes to those who are willing to trust, confide (and I don't mean to tell every single slice of your life although perhaps in some groups you could) through sharing, and are willing to listen. Whole hearted listening tells someone else you really care. You are interested in what they have to say. A true relationship, when you know community is developing among people, is when you want to listen to someone else, when they are willing to listen to you. When people recognize that they are not in this relationship because they will gain information or become more important or whatever, but rather the gain is in the trusting relationship itself, then a sense of community can develop.

I know what the pastor was asking. I know why he was asking it. Pastors are lonely persons. We don't trust a lot of people, not even our own colleagues. We often feel very vulnerable. We "keep our cards close to our chest." We are afraid of being totally honest about our feelings because we have been burned, wounded, stepped on. We really wonder if people in the church care about us or our families. So we share just so much and carry the lonely pain in our souls. During moments of caring for others time and time again, we are often frayed at the edges ourselves. We give away much more than we take in. It's like passing out vitamins to help build others up, strengthening and caring for them, then forgetting to take the "medicine" ourselves.

A few years ago I was mystified by a group of pastors who got together calling their gathering the "bitch and moan" group. They got together to bitch and moan, (not so bad, you have to vent somewhere) but (as I was told by another pastor who attended some of their meetings) when one of the pastors became terminally ill with cancer, they could not even pray or ask him how he was doing while they were together. It was almost as if the cancer was not real, denial in its purest form. They could be community as long as they bitched and moaned but could not offer their ailing brother compassionate care. My colleague who shared the information with me who has since died walked away feeling more lonely than when he came to the group.

Community is a gift, a camaraderie of spirit. God is present in true community. It is the power by which we become connected to one another. At times it is truly a physical manifestation. We just feel good being in someone else's presence. We feel safe and secure, cared for. We know we have a group to which we can return, especially when our hearts are aching or our souls need nourishment. When we recognize that God is in the community spirit, we rise to higher levels of acceptance, love, trust and joy. We can become better people, enriched at deeper levels in our lives. We have more to offer in other circles.

I am blessed. When I experience community I feel so connected to God. When I shared in retreat in Assisi, Italy with the folks from different parts of the world, I knew this sense of community. We were truly of one spirit. In Africa with the sick people in the hospital I felt a sense of oneness with them. We may have only met once, but the connection was divine, God linking people together. Trust can build on different levels and community can be experienced in long-term relationships but also in one-on-one encounters that are brief, momentary, God developed. Love, the agape kind.

I turn to you,
follow your leading.
You develop in my heart
the desire to connect
with your children.
I know
that I do not exist alone;
rather I exist to be connected to others.
It is community,
it is church,
it is God
with God's own children.
Love, the agape kind.

Love always, Andrea