Thursday evenings, rain or shine, are for small group.
Last fall Tad’s work schedule kept him from coming with us for the better part of the semester, so, by myself I fed dinner to and loaded into the van four kids under five, drove 40 minutes, juggled a nursing baby during Bible study, and then rounded them all up at the end, loaded them back into the car, and drove home. Please, God, don’t let it be raining… I don’t think I can do this in the rain. It was exhausting, but I always felt like it was worth it. (Driving there, I definitely had my doubts. But on the way home, I knew it was true.)
Messy and imperfect, we go anyway.
Most Thursday nights I walk out the door with dirty hair and an outfit freshly splattered with baby spit up. Bless them, those sweet ladies in my small group who hug me anyway. My daughters’ hair sometimes is fixed, but mostly it isn’t. I think my baby has been wearing this outfit for two days. My toddler’s shoes don’t match his socks don’t match his pants don’t match his shirt. I taught my husband the phrase “hot mess”; on Thursday nights I am exhibit A.
Vulnerable and broken, that’s what we are.
Every third week we split by gender and have prayer night. We’re not afraid to cry. We can’t have true community if we’re not real about our struggles. So we share the ugly, hard parts about our lives. The parts that don’t make it to our Instagram highlights reel.
We don’t have all the answers, but we aren’t afraid to take a stab at it.
On Bible study nights, we dig in deeper to the sermon, wrestling with the meaning of the text and seeking to understand God better.
And on meal nights, we feast. Oh, how we feast.
“They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts.” Acts 2:46
Meal nights give us a chance to know each other better. After you eat with someone, you are no longer strangers. Italian night, breakfast night, southern night, Chipotle-style-build-your-own-burritos night… each one has united our hearts closer together as we live our lives in community.
Maybe we can put on a face that says, “I have it all together” for our Facebook friends or even those who just see us on Sunday mornings. But when we meet together in homes week after week, that façade starts to crumble.
And that’s when the true community begins to happen.
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If this concept of community is new to you, I encourage you to listen to this recent sermon by my pastor.
YES! I can so relate. A few weeks ago Mark was gone to a conference for work and I had to get the kiddos up and out the door for church. My flesh kept saying, “You can skip this week. No one would blame you,” but the Spirit said, “You need to meet with the body.” I loaded them up and drove 40 minutes to church, met with other believers, drove home while yelling in the back seat for the two little girls not to fall asleep, and showered when I got home b/c I was so sweaty from juggling it all. I am so glad I didn’t let my flesh rule me, but submitted to the spirit of righteousness. That was only one week though, you do it continuously. You are such an encouragement to me. This post was so, so good. 🙂
It’s always good to hear from others in the same boat! Fortunately, Tad’s schedule now allows him to attend with us every week, which is awesome! 🙂 (And I hear ya on the yelling at kids to stay awake! No naps if they doze in the car!)