Fine, douchebag, here it is

Yesterday I got a text message from a dear friend that said, and I quote, “Update your blog, crapbag. I am bored of the old one.”

I have been thinking over lots of things lately: community, generosity, joy & wonder, spiritual gifts, relationships, etc.

And I’ve pretty much just ended up with questions and no answers.

I have, though, become convicted of the fact that I need to be living in community, not just worshipping in it or going to lunch with it, but eating, sleeping, showering, praying, thinking and talking in it. (Wait, that sounds a little shady. I’d sleep and shower by myself, but would know that someone else was going to need hot water, too, or able to get up later than me or whatever.)

Sure, living in community is somewhat annoying, but only because it reminds me that everything is not about me—that life is not the Me Show. And I find that highly irritating, but it’s a reminder that I need.

I just finished Blue Like Jazz (which I thoroughly enjoyed, even though it was not quite up to par with Traveling Mercies), and the author says that “Jesus does not want us floating through space or sitting in front of our televisions. Jesus wants us interacting, eating together, laughing together, praying together. Loneliness is something that came with the fall.”

He also says some other things about living in community and how important it has been in his life, and those comments helped me to realize that the Me Show is too much a part of my life, and I need to freakin’ get over myself. And into some real community.

I have sort of a community in the singles group at church, but I think we’re still in the Fake stage of community. (For those of you who haven’t done Mission Year, the four stages of community, as sold to us, are Fake, Fight, Fart, Family.) We might be moving into Fight, but I’m not sure.

Building community takes time and effort and more time, and I know that. But one of the biggest problems with this community is that I’m not sure that they understand me. And that could make community-building really difficult. I mean, I like them and we have fun together, but I’m sad that they don’t understand the things I do about Jesus and poverty and social justice. I’m tired of coming home from church with a proverbial bloody tongue.

Last week we went to lunch together after church (what I consider Communion), and we all sat around and had an hour-and-a-half conversation about dating and expectations and stuff. And it was good. And it was interesting. And there were some things in there that I didn’t completely agree with, but that’s normal, after all. Probably as a result of my Femi-Nazi ways. But when I tried to tell them about how I’m going to rescind the name “Christian” and start using something else to describe myself, they all looked at me as if I had just told them I had a communicable disease. Or three nipples. Or that my three-nipple syndrome was catching.

So I explained to them that the word Christian had been used to describe so many bad people who had done so many bad things throughout history. Remember the crusades? What about George Bush? Or the fact that Focus on the Family has nothing better to do than castigate Spongebob Squarepants for “being gay”? Or those people who protest at the funerals of gay men and women? I mean, who wants to be associated with that? Not me.

This was an idea presented to us in Mission Year, but it is really starting to make sense to me now. I mean, I got it then, but I’m really considering at this point. And yet even after I explained it to my friends, they continued looking at me like I had just suggested that they join the Democratic party.

I get that I have been labeled the Flaming Liberal of the group. And for good reason. But I am getting very lonely having to uphold the title all by myself. Right now, all I really want is someone to understand what I’m saying. To listen and consider. . .and maybe even agree every once in a while.

And while I have at least one other Flaming Liberal friend in the area (I don’t want to blow her cover, but she knows who she is), it’s just not the same. Shouldn’t these people who are working to build community so we can grow together at least register some sort of recognition when I put forth an idea that makes complete and total sense to me, especially when it deals with “Christianity” or spirituality?

And shouldn’t they help me use the gifts I’ve been given? I have been vocal, too, about the fact that I have some teaching gifts, but unfortunately, those are not seen as gifts that are appropriate for women to use, at least not by many at our church, including many in my group of friends.

And yet I can’t blame them for believing what they do, can I? The fact remains that I got involved in their group at their church because they were welcoming and loving and compassionate. And they were the first group that was genuinely interested in me. And that meant something. It still does. I needed them then, and I need them now. I just need someone to understand me, too.

(I need to bear in mind, as well, that I can’t expect them to read my mind, especially not at this point. If I have some reasonable expectations, then I am responsible for communicating those if I expect them to get met.)

And I think about my Mission Year roommates, and how I pushed them as far away as possible after the year ended because of some hurts I endured, whether they were real or imagined. And I was tired. But now I wonder if I should’ve tried harder, tired or not, because now I need someone to understand what I mean about Christian being a dirty word. And how I’m struggling to live my faith in an authentic way that lands somewhere between MY and my former life.

Don Miller, the author of Blue Like Jazz, also says the following, and when I read it, it was like a light bulb went on in my head: “In the churches I used to go to, I felt like I didn’t fit in. I always felt like the adopted kid, as if there was ‘room at the table for me.’ Do you know what I mean? I was accepted but not understood. There was room at the table for me, but I wasn’t in the family.”

I don’t figure that one community will meet all my needs or even my expectations, but then that means that I need to find one that will meet my other needs that aren’t getting met at this point. So any liberal Jesus-followers in my neck of the woods wanna form community with me? It’ll be an interesting ride, to say the least--right now I'm dragging my church friends on a journey to (re)discover joy and wonder. But that's another post.