Eating, singing, living

It was our fairly raucous Christmas party at church tonight. We had carols, we had food, we had chat – and it was all good. 🙂 It was great to see old faces and new, people that I have known from when I first moved here and people I’ve just met.

The most beautiful thing of all was that one woman who has been away from church came back this evening. It was so fantastic to see her and to share food and news with her. One highlight of the Christmas party is that we sing ‘The 12 days of Christmas’ with each table taking 1 or 2 of the verses. It is always crazy and loud and disorganised. But as I watched people jumping up to sing their verse I looked around the room and realised that if it wasn’t for this little church in a forgotten place this motley crew of people would never know each other, would never know the joy of singing ’12 Days of Christmas’ wildly and who would never know that there is a God that loves them and who has some pretty amazing ideas for us, our lives, our community and our world. Bring on Christmas!

It is the celebrations like our chaotic Christmas party that make me love this church so much. The way that someone who has been away from church for months and perhaps did not know how to come back (because we have tried so many times to get her to come back!) can just turn up at the Christmas meal and be welcomed with open (and very excited) arms. The way that everyone gets involved in making it happen; the way that people who have never been to our Christmas party (or even to church) before are welcomed to eat, sing and celebrate with us and in that celebration we make something larger than ourselves. We create something sparkling and rare, we create a moment of beauty that fills us up in that deep part of ourselves that desires to be part of a people, a tribe, a community with a purpose bigger than our lives and our worries.

And in me it further cements me here. That scares me, I don’t want to feel cemented. I want to feel free, unfettered by relationships that tangle me up in them. But I somehow feel more grounded in this actual community, instead of a potential community out there somewhere. I think it was in Jonathan Wilson Hartgrove’s book The Wisdom of Stability that he writes about what happens when young trees are transplanted over and over again. They can never really take root and they can never really grow. I can associate with that – I know the feeling of being moved, shifted around to different types of soil, different climates. And I used to think that it was a blessing, that I would be able to move anywhere and do anything. But I think that what I’m actually yearn for is a place, a ‘where’ that I belong to, a people that I recognise and who recognise me. People who I really know, and to whom I am really known. But I am afraid of what ‘being known’ looks like, because it looks messy and connected, its about actual people and who they are, as well as who I am. This ‘being known’ means that they will know who I really am, the bad and nasty bits as well as the good ones. We can’t hide from each other if we are to know each other. But attaching and cementing to this place is the only way that I can live here. Otherwise I will be miserable. I can live on the surface of this place, always looking to where else I could go, I could fantasise about what other potential communities I could love but there is a community here that can be loved, and that can love me.

Holy God, help me to put down roots here, help me to know and be known, truly, honestly, messily. Help me to see you more and more in the faces and places of my neighbourhood. Amen!