They spilled into the family room and dining room and even out onto the front porch last evening. Moms and dads and 16 children, with the children outnumbering the adults by 5. All I can type out this morning is WOW.
I wish I had pictures to prove the mass chaos of it all, but alas, I do not.
Coffee flowed, 2 pots worth and can I say it again, WOW? Words fail me as I have flashbacks of what can only be called church in the raw. And I mean raw. Really raw.
Thirteen children piled onto the porch with 2 poor adults who did all they could do to teach these wild and crazies about following God. (Fellowship Dallas-thank you for your AWESOME curriculum, but a blindfold on a porch with no railings just did not work out so well this week.) There was much hollering and swinging doors and popcorn eating. When the teaching went on for as long as it could, the sweet mama out there did what mamas do and she dug into her purse. Pieces of chocolate filled the gap and filled their mouths and bought precious time.
The lucky ones on the inside guzzled coffee and gave many thanks for not being on kid duty. We unpacked John 6 and shared the hard stuff of our hearts. Struggling with unbelief was a common theme and it felt good to say it aloud to one another. To make it real and not some shameful secret. We shared communion and more coffee and laughed at our brood of kids who really complicate being quiet before the Lord.
But to be honest, as I watched everyone leave, my heart hurt.
Our gathering is continually changing faster than we can do the slow dance of community. We keep changing partners and sending out those who have decided to marry one another and begin their own dance across town. We seem to never get to the part where we commit to the long haul. We never commit to dance together until the makeup runs off our faces and we see the real us.
I am starved for deep, get naked kind of community. Starved.
It’s hard, this thing called church planting. Is it always this hard?
Church in the Raw.
Maybe we should change our name.