The surprise

So two weeks ago I moved for about the 12th time in under 5 years. Unlike most of those other moves, this time I moved back home for the most significant period of time in a couple of years--certainly the most significant period of time since my parents moved to their current place. This place, unlike the others where they've lived, is quite far away from where I grew up and went to school, and is also a lot smaller than those places. The marriage of those two factors essentially translates into deficiencies in the areas of community, and things to do. I expected to be bored and lonely this summer, as I just usually am every summer while I'm not at work (and, let's face it, sometimes I manage to find boredom and loneliness at work too, regardless of what the job is!).

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For context's sake:

Summer after first year: I worked my butt off 9-5, Monday-Friday, and found myself too tired to do anything but sleep on the weekends (but made a ton of money that stretched a really, really long way)

Summer after second year: Panic attacks, anxiety, and prescription drugs had knocked the wind out of me during the year, and I decided I needed to take some time away from work to regroup, so I basically allowed myself to have panic attacks at home instead of at a job. This was not my favourite summer.

Summer after third year: I went to Bangladesh for a month, then came home and fought with my parents a lot while trying navigate side effects and a new mental reality that came when I weaned myself off of all prescription drugs. Then my parents moved. The day I moved back to school was the best day ever.

Summer after fourth year: I worked part time, but spent a bunch of time being alone, searching for another job, and moving. This was the summer that I moved and my parents moved and both of our houses became one. It wasn't very pretty, for the most part.

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So this summer I was expecting to get a hold of some textbooks and start reading for the fall since I was probably going to be alone with nothing to do anyway--that and try and train my body to tolerate wheat once again (results are mixed so far). The last two summers since I've become a follower of Jesus have typically been times of spiritual regression as well, and I wasn't holding out much hope of having the guts to go out church hopping by myself and actually finding a church community that I would feel right plugging into, coming alongside and joining their mission in this community that I was sort of temporarily living in--this place where I didn't grow up nor know anyone or anything.

I'd been to this one particular church a few times before on the odd weekend when I was home throughout the year, on recommendation from a couple of friends who had been there a few times. From the small glimpse I had, it was alright. The teaching was good, and I could tell that it was a loving, tight-knit community, but I didn't see room for myself there. I'd been to three services and had had two individuals approach me to talk, mostly for all of about 2 minutes, politely acknowledging my presence, thanking me for coming, and offering a hot beverage and a cookie before the start of the service. I shouldn't rip these people up for not being hospitable or friendly, because I'm absolutely the worst hostess in the world and just feel so awkward asking questions and offering anything that my guests probably always feel like they're walking on eggshells. I get it--hosting isn't always natural, and sometimes it's just awkward and hard! Anyway, my first Sunday at home after moving from London, I really didn't want to go to church. I didn't want to go to my parents' church for other reasons that I won't get into, and I didn't want to go to this church that I'd been to before, as I really wasn't interested in sitting in the back by myself, left to my own anxious thoughts and feeling like an outsider. But somehow I felt that I should go there. I put all kinds of parameters in my way: "I'll only go if I get up early enough…" Well, that happened, because my body doesn't know how to sleep in; "Well, now that I'm up, I'd better shower, and I'll only go if I can get ready in time" Conveniently, despite purposely taking a longer-than-necessary shower to try and stall myself, I emerged from the bathroom with the exact amount of time needed to get in the car and go; "I don't want to drive my big car and parallel park it downtown" But of course, my dad's smaller car and his keys were left for me to use; "I got here a few minutes late, I don't want to go in late and cause a scene" Good thing this is one of those churches where services never start on time… You get the idea. I didn't want to go, but I felt like I was supposed to be there.

Then right when I walked in the door, some young adults introduced themselves to me. It wasn't awkward. Sometimes talking with Christians can be the awkwardest, and I find myself feeling probably like Spongebob did when he got sent to Weenie Hut Junior's (like, ugh, you people are such wieners and I am not weird like that! No wonder Christians are so stereotypically lame!). But this wasn't like that! It was so refreshing to find this community in such a small town where I didn't know anyone. And it's been so great. I haven't even had time to be bored sitting at home because I've been having coffee and drinks and barbecues and bonfires and going to the movies and the beach with this group of awesome people that I just met. It's freaking amazing. Yay. And also crazy ridiculous how God just works these things out, how I didn't make any real connections while I wasn't able to go to this church consistently, but then when I am able to go on the regular I get plugged in right away.

And it gets better. This church is planting a church in Toronto, and I'm moving there in a month and a half. Awesome. They had a day this past weekend of fellowship, worship, and prayer for this church plant in Toronto, and it was full of more chill people who also happen to love the Lord, and are doing an amazing job of making me feel welcome, loved, and at home as a newcomer, without being overbearing. They were even giving me jobs to do, which is one of the ways I feel really valued and like I belong, when I can contribute to the production of something. Sweet.

Of course, there have also been questions. I haven't agreed wholeheartedly with all of the interpretations of scripture, and at some points I've wanted to just shout out "HEY! I don't entirely agree with what you've just said regarding this scripture, here is what I think/believe, what do you think about that?" and have a longer, fuller discussion, but I didn't want to stir the pot as a noob, or distract from the greater purpose of this church planting prayer session, and I'm honestly probably a little afraid of what the reaction to a young woman's speculation would be in this context, although those fears are rather unfounded. But, regardless of any theological differences, it's obvious that we all love Jesus and want to serve him and love God and our neighbour, and any remaining differences are all reconciled through Christ. 

One big thing, though, is that I don't believe that this particular church affirms women in leadership roles. As a woman who feels called to explore the possibility of a career in church leadership, that's kind of a big deal to me. I fully feel like preaching and teaching are gifts that God has given to me, and I don't believe it is sinful or out of place to use those gifts for the edification the entire body of Christ (not just the women and children). I've never consistently attended a church that did not affirm women in leadership roles, and it seems a curious thing to begin doing so now that I am pursuing a call towards church leadership. To be honest, I feel like this is something I'll be wrestling with for the long-term. There are voices that say "you're wrong, just look at scripture, submit, and assimilate" and others that say "others telling you that you can't preach because of your sex is a form of oppression, and Jesus was not about that. It's not in the character of God, and it's a greater transgression to keep the light that God has given you under a bucket than to put it on a lampstand while some interpret certain scriptures to say that you have to let a man do that because he has a penis and you don't". I don't believe that just because of this "minor" theological difference (although it is pretty major in the context of my own situation) I should abandon this community that has already demonstrated that they're about a lot of the things I'm also about and a lot of the things I believe Jesus was about. I feel like everybody wishes the whole world would just agree with them and their ideologies, but that's just not the way it is. At the end of the day, Jesus is about reconciliation and living as one body in the Kingdom of God, not pride and cynicism. The best we can do is to keep ourselves educated and informed and on our toes, with open hearts and minds to hear what ALL people have to say, especially those who are affected by specific parameters or circumstances in question. No one can claim to be informed while only listening to voices in concordance with their own opinion.

So far, I'm having an amazing summer--no sports injuries, no surgeries, no inability to eat anything softer than overcooked pasta due to incessant jaw bone grafts, no prescription drug addictions or withdrawal, no major family turbulence, no crippling panic attacks thwarting plans to leave the house or have a good night's sleep, no moves requiring more than my SUV, and my parents are in their own home without any fear of being kicked out. And I've found a great community in what I thought was just desert wilderness in the middle of nowhere. Best summer since we went to Europe in '06, easily.