a friend recently has asked me to talk about life here in Birmingham, our new church, and what that's all like. One thing that I love, and the one thing that keeps me from going mad, is that white people have actually moved their families into the city, into this little neighorhood in Southside, and called it home. I have neighbors that are also in my worshipping community, and i like that. it's important i think. when i was small, we knew everyone on our street. i can still go house by house and tell you who lived there and if i ever ate dinner at their home. it was safe in all the ways home and community are supposed to be, and i have wanted that ever since. southside is a bit more ghetto. i have bars on my windows, and someone recently stole our lawnmower. this is frustrating, and yet expected. but i do have neighbors who care and in some small way are becoming a part of my family.
it is difficult to leave a place you love, and return to a place you liked. st louis was like a dear old grandfather to me. it cared and taught me things i could not know because of my youth. it showed me the fruits of history, and the trail of tears that comes with that. it gave me a great cloud of witnesses...and then said be on your way, feed my sheep.
our little church here is an infant. young in history and demographic. sometimes it feels like the first time my mom let me stay at home by myself. God actually trusts us to do this?
i wish i could say i love everything about this church. i don't. it feels awkward sometimes..like we have a body, but all the parts are disconnected, kind of like when a baby realizes he has toes. they are not sure what to do with them, so they just bite them. it's strange, and this church feels strange...and i suppose i am a part of that strangeness.
so what i am learning is that some things are worth fighting for---even if i feel like i worship where we're all eating our toes instead of walking on them.
i think of annie dillard..."A high school stage play is more polished than this service we have been rehearsing since the year one. In two thousand years, we have not worked out the kinks. We positively glorify them. Week after week we witness the same miracle: that God is so mighty he can stifle his own laughter. Week after week, we witness the same miracle: that God, for reasons unfathomable, refrains from blowing our dancing bear act to smithereens. Week after week Christ washes the disciples' feet, handles their very toes, and repeats; it is all right -- believe it or not -- to be people. Who can believe it?"
2 comments :
Nice post, Brooke, well-written and poignant. I especially liked the description of the church being like a baby discovering its different parts and their relations for the first time. Blessings on you and Josh.
I think this is the best description of our little church that I have heard. This is exactly what we are: a little baby eating his toes. Sometimes, I think we even lack the language of service we need to connect with each other. But, I have hope that we'll learn it and begin to really see ourselves become a community at last.
Thank you for letting me read your blog.
Su.
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