sojourn

i visited sojourn last night for the first time. it's a church that i heard a lot about when i first moved to louisville, but seeing as how my job is also my church, it's been a little difficult to make it a priority to visit other churches. last night, however, i had finally gotten to the point of realizing that it's definitely OK to seek out similarly-aged, similarly-minded people in a life stage similar to me. and it's been a little slow in the going thus far, so i figured it was time to expedite the process.

it was really, really, really nice.



it was kind of like coming home ... in terms of the building, the people, the music, the pastor, and the service, it really felt like common ground, which was my church home for 5 years. and i realized that, even though i really do LOVE my job and i LOVE the community at park place, it's not what i would pick for myself. ministry doesn't always let us be where we want to be. that's why it's called ministry ... it's not just for you. it's for you to minister for others. and i love that.

but it's OK to need to receive sometimes. it's OK to need to be able to sit in a congregation of people who love the Lord and sing praises with the band without having to BE the band and read liturgy with the pastor without having written it earlier in the week. it's OK to need to be able to sit a listen and receive teaching from the Word of God without worrying and thinking the whole time about how the closing song is going to go.

it's not that i don't love what i do -- because i love it! i love it so much ... but i'm not super-human. i'm not perfect. i'm not inexhaustible. i'm not self-filling.

and last night, i realized just HOW human, imperfect, exhausted, and empty i've let myself become. it was good to be in the presence of God in the Body of Christ with no expectations on me ... it was refreshing.



and i'm beginning to think i could love louisville.

of home and horizons.

i'm discovering in this season of life that my horizons do not expand so much in leaps and bounds, like some monumental overhaul, but in inches and moments, in subtle changes that happen day by day. when i begin something new, the novelty soon wears away as i find my place and grow accustomed to my surroundings. and suddenly, without any apparent warning, my former life (which i had been, at one point, rather accustomed to) is like a foreign land. making a return trip is at once disappointing and releasing for me. of course there is the melancholy of realizing that the joys of that time are gone forever, but there is also the freedom it gives, allowing me to embrace the whole of my new life, with all of its joys and stresses and complexities.

it's true, you can't go home again. and that's why you build a new one.