belonging

It’s Monday! I woke up to hearing the rain, peeked out the shade and saw gray skies, and was instantly less motivated to go about my day. But here it is an hour later and the sun is shining. So all is not lost. I have a lot on my mind this morning. Just to list a few: the laundry I need to fold, the sermon I plan to listen to while folding the laundry, the doctor office I need to call, and a million other things. But the good news is—that all can wait. Yesterday Carson and I went to a church picnic at Aldersgate. I had a great time, and for the first time in a long time, felt comfortable, like I belonged.

In just the last month, I’ve realized that I’m wary of new people in large part because I don’t expect them to like me. I don’t expect to belong. I can think back over growing up and feeling in many cases, that I didn’t belong, that I didn’t feel part of anything. I’ve attended over 10 churches in my short life, and visited over 50, and I’ve found that all churches are just a little bit weird. People are weird, and the people who seek Jesus aren’t going to have a platinum sheen over them. They won’t have perfect theology, perfect worship, or perfect sermons, but you know, they will love you. And that’s what I felt yesterday. Like my imperfect, insecure self belonged with this church family.

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