Change of Heart

It's been a crazy week.

School starts again tomorrow.  Enough said.  I'm excited about seeing my students because I love my job, but there has certainly been a wealth of tasks to accomplish before their little faces appear in my classroom at 7:45 in the morning. 

Really, though, the two craziest things of the past week have nothing to do with work and are events that hardly occupied my thoughts before we went to them.  These seemingly insignificant events had been written on our calendar for weeks, but I had no idea of the impact that they would make on me.

One.

When my alarm went off on Sunday morning, everything in me did not want to go to the New Member's Class for the church we have been attending for the past few months.  I didn't want to go because it was early and I had been up too late the night before, but mostly I didn't want to go because I haven't been thrilled about the idea of becoming a new member.  I'd rather sit on the back row forever.  Some weeks, I'd rather not show up to church at all.

Anyway, I ended up going, probably because Andrew doesn't give me much of a choice in matters such as these (for my own good, I'm sure).  I made my nametag, grabbed a cup of coffee and a bagel, and went to sit on our pastor's back porch with the other 25 people who showed up.  I feel sure that cynicism was written all over my face.  Even though our pastor has been a good friend of ours for years, I didn't want to commit to being part of his church, nor did I want to be around any of these other people who appeared to me to "have it together."  So I sat with my arms crossed and my mind disengaged as Doug talked and people went around the circle to introduce themselves.

Then something interesting happened.  People started talking, and the ice in my heart melted a little as I realized that everyone has a story.  No one's story looks exactly like mine, but everyone struggles.  More than I know.  People in the circle that morning have lost loved ones, experienced divorces and infidelity, been burned by churches, been abused, and more.  No one has it together.  Something beautiful happens when people are honest about that and admit their need for a savior.

Prior to this meeting, I was worried about getting involved in the church.  I'm still worried, to be honest.  I feel like I don't have much, if anything, to offer.  I have been in such a dry place for so long that I don't know how I can possibly serve.  The thing I realized on Sunday, though, is that service doesn't necessarily have to fit in this one particular box like I have always envisioned.  It doesn't have to mean leading a Bible study, "discipling" someone, or teaching a Sunday School class.  I couldn't handle any of those things right now (and you wouldn't want me to try!).  What I can do is love people by having them in my home, even when we have very little in common.  I can show my students and their families the love of God when I go to work every day.  I can listen to my friend while we have coffee.  When I think of doing those things, I don't feel overwhelmed.  And I think God is much more pleased when I do them joyfully than when I do the overtly "Christian" things (like teaching Sunday School) begrudgingly.

"Love God, love people, love the city."  That's the City Pres vision.  As we started talking about what that means in our New Member's Class, I was reminded of how simple the gospel actually is.  We complicate it so much sometimes, don't we?  Loving God doesn't necessarily mean being Republican, homeschooling, being Reformed, or whatever else you care to list.  Loving people means being kind to those with whom you disagree.  Loving the city means being invested in your community, wherever you are.  I feel like I can at least attempt those things.  I don't have to love perfectly.  There is room to make mistakes, and lots of them, because of the grace that covers me every time. That is the gospel stripped down, and that is something I believe in. 

Matt Chandler, pastor of The Village Church in Texas, tells a great story about when his little girl first started walking.  At first, she only took three steps before landing on her bottom.  But as all parents do, Matt and his wife immediately screamed for joy, grabbed the video camera, and called all of their family and friends to tell the good news.  They never said, "Oh wow, I can't believe she only took three steps," or, "What?!  She didn't walk all the way across the living room?!"  They were overjoyed.  This, I think, is how God looks at us.  Sometimes just putting one foot in front of the other and taking baby steps is a mountainous feat.  I can fall down, and it's okay.

Sunday was big for me.  I'm still scared and worried about joining a church.  But my frozen heart is dissolving, and if you know me at all, that has been a huge work in progress.

Two.

I promise I will blog about this, but I don't have enough time to put my thoughts together right now.  Until next time, then...