I don't know about you,
but I put up walls.
These high walls of self-protection and a stoic face that says "All is well," when the house is on fire.
There are these high strongholds around my heart that I believe will keep me safe. How is it that I believe that I will be safer in isolation rather than in the safe and loving arms of my Father?
But now the walls are gone.
Because I know vulnerability is the best medicine for this soul.
Only a box remains.
Because I know I must give myself to those around me, but there are still hesitations, so I've wrapped it tightly and I've labeled it 'handle with care.'
I thought the box was enough, but much to my horror, someone slit the seals and folded open the flaps.
I did not stop them, although I could have.
I did not shout, although I wanted to.
The walls could have been pulled back up like a fortress on a hill, the drawbridge raised, entrance denied.
But I did not.
And they continued, these incredible people that had gained my trust, obtained access to my soul, looked inside and did not run. Instead, they reached inside and with care beyond what I even dreamed they handled my heart. When the wounds they touched were tender and tears sprang to my eyes they did not falter. And the truth they shared, the prayers they whispered over me were love and comfort to my weary heart. A balm to my dilapidated spirit.
This. This is what community is supposed to look like. This is what the most desperate parts of my soul were longing for. This is what I had been praying for. When I came home from YWAM 3 long years ago my prayers resembled that of a lonely heart. I yearned for the community I had built in Louisville. That similar place where we built one another up, prayed for each other, carried our burdens, and had friendships that were deeper than the ocean.
Suddenly, it seemed I had found it. Suddenly, I realized that we had pushed beyond the awkward introductions, we had put our eyes on each other and discovered meaningful friendships.
I went back to Kentucky for the weekend. To Louisville, to the people who made home a community. I have not been in a year and a half. Our reunions were stunning as we gathered for a good friend's wedding. When I returned this time, it was not sad, nor was it hard because for the first time my quiver was full. Coming home, I realized, I had found the community I searched so hard for.
What is community?
We are learning. Clumsily and passionately we are learning. It is the laughter that lightens our load, the listening in our brokenness, the praying that comes when we cannot bear one's burdens anymore, The joy that arises out of knowing you are part of a tribe, you are known, loved and not forgotten.
Community is an invitation that says, "We are here, we are a part of this journey, we will not walk this road alone." Community walks into the mire of the pit, community crawls in the valley of the shadow of death, community victoriously conquers mountains. Community rejoices, weeps, laughs and sings. Community is a group of people that are messy and beautiful, that push each other to the hope and life that is found in a relationship with Jesus Christ. This community is not perfect but is more than I'd ever dreamed of.
but I put up walls.
These high walls of self-protection and a stoic face that says "All is well," when the house is on fire.
There are these high strongholds around my heart that I believe will keep me safe. How is it that I believe that I will be safer in isolation rather than in the safe and loving arms of my Father?
But now the walls are gone.
Because I know vulnerability is the best medicine for this soul.
Only a box remains.
Because I know I must give myself to those around me, but there are still hesitations, so I've wrapped it tightly and I've labeled it 'handle with care.'
I thought the box was enough, but much to my horror, someone slit the seals and folded open the flaps.
I did not stop them, although I could have.
I did not shout, although I wanted to.
The walls could have been pulled back up like a fortress on a hill, the drawbridge raised, entrance denied.
But I did not.
And they continued, these incredible people that had gained my trust, obtained access to my soul, looked inside and did not run. Instead, they reached inside and with care beyond what I even dreamed they handled my heart. When the wounds they touched were tender and tears sprang to my eyes they did not falter. And the truth they shared, the prayers they whispered over me were love and comfort to my weary heart. A balm to my dilapidated spirit.
This. This is what community is supposed to look like. This is what the most desperate parts of my soul were longing for. This is what I had been praying for. When I came home from YWAM 3 long years ago my prayers resembled that of a lonely heart. I yearned for the community I had built in Louisville. That similar place where we built one another up, prayed for each other, carried our burdens, and had friendships that were deeper than the ocean.
Suddenly, it seemed I had found it. Suddenly, I realized that we had pushed beyond the awkward introductions, we had put our eyes on each other and discovered meaningful friendships.
I went back to Kentucky for the weekend. To Louisville, to the people who made home a community. I have not been in a year and a half. Our reunions were stunning as we gathered for a good friend's wedding. When I returned this time, it was not sad, nor was it hard because for the first time my quiver was full. Coming home, I realized, I had found the community I searched so hard for.
What is community?
We are learning. Clumsily and passionately we are learning. It is the laughter that lightens our load, the listening in our brokenness, the praying that comes when we cannot bear one's burdens anymore, The joy that arises out of knowing you are part of a tribe, you are known, loved and not forgotten.
Community is an invitation that says, "We are here, we are a part of this journey, we will not walk this road alone." Community walks into the mire of the pit, community crawls in the valley of the shadow of death, community victoriously conquers mountains. Community rejoices, weeps, laughs and sings. Community is a group of people that are messy and beautiful, that push each other to the hope and life that is found in a relationship with Jesus Christ. This community is not perfect but is more than I'd ever dreamed of.
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