Community
Who are my people?
Do you remember high school? I remember high school. Do you remember walking the halls and looking at the individuals and clusters of people and lunchroom crowds and thinking, Which group do I belong to? Who are my people? As someone that floated through community theater, youth group, and the peer groups of who I dated, I am not quite sure I ever landed on the answer to this question in high school. But I will say this. In whatever group I connected with, I always figured out the rules and understood how to act within those rules. The sense of belonging was important to me. So I studied, watched, interacted, and belonged.
I found success in this method for decades in Christian settings. It worked as a camp counselor in college, on mission trips, in youth groups, college life groups, small groups, community groups, home groups, women’s groups, and all the groups. What I’m finding now is that the communities I thrived in for so long were not safe spaces for everyone. What has become more important to me is not just getting myself connected to a community, but helping create spaces for others to find belonging.
Where are my people?
I have lived in three states and finding community where I land has not always been easy. During one season of transition, I moved to a new state, had a baby two days later, started a new job, and immediately discovered that my newborn had a mysterious medical condition. All the change with zero community landed me in therapy and I remember sitting on the couch through tears saying, “I wish it was easier to find women friends.” My husband was great, but nothing beats friends that let you show up at their door in pajamas, friends that hand you a mug and say, “Talk.” During that same season I was at a women’s church event and the question was posed, “What prevents you from being authentic with other women?” The tears came again as I thought, I don’t have other women to be authentic with. I did find my place in that church eventually, but it took more than a year.
Finding a church in a new city when you’re on the hunt for community is much like finding a therapist. You need to know that after sharing your story, you’ll still find belonging and acceptance in that space. With both therapy and church folks, it can take awhile to unpack the whole story, which means it can take awhile to know if you fit or not. Investing the time only to realize it isn’t a good fit can be devastating. I’ve also since discovered all the places that community can be found outside the walls of church and really outside walls of any kind.
I’ll never forget the first year I ran Hood to Coast, a 200 mile relay from Mount Hood to the Oregon Coast. The miles are shared among a team of 12 runners, split into two vans as we rotate through sleep, food, and running. The hours I spent with the women in my van as we shared miles and memories showed me how community is found over shared interests, shared life stages, and shared experiences. When we moved across state lines again, I first joined a running group before I settled into a church. It’s funny because while I’ve certainly found connection and community in churches, I’ve also found it in bars, teachers lounges, concert venues, on the running trail, walking with neighbors, and in discussion groups on social media.
It isn’t the place necessarily, it’s the belonging. Instead of “Where are my people?” it might be “Who do I connect with?”
What about other people?
I thrived in church environments because I had been in those walls for decades. I no longer needed to figure out the rules because I knew the rules with my eyes closed. But one day I woke up and realized that as a cisgendered heterosexual white woman, there were other, unseen reasons why I felt at home and safe in these spaces. I fit into their narrative of what I was supposed to be and how I was supposed to act. As I have branched outside these walls and pulled more diverse voices into my space, I’ve learned how toxic church environments can be for so many that don’t fit into that narrative. The more questions I ask, the further I am from that narrative myself. I’m no longer comfortable in spaces that include me at the expense of the belonging of others. A friend recently shared with me her experience coming out as a lesbian to her conservative Christian parents. Her parents were torn between whether they were more upset about her sexual identity or their belief that she could no longer live out her Christian upbringing. My friend was torn between whether she was most grieving the loss of her family or the loss of her community. What broke my heart was knowing that if their community had been outside of church, no one would have had to lose anything.
I recently left a church just as I was starting to find my place there. I loved the worship. The virtual service experience was seamless. The preaching was engaging. We had a great small group. But I couldn’t get past the complementarianism and the non-affirming LGBTQ+ stance. I actually almost settled in to the church initially because these views didn’t affect me much. I wasn’t trying to preach. And I don’t identify as LGBTQ+. But something didn’t feel right about a community that I fit into that wasn’t inclusive for everyone else. When I did find a progressive, egalitarian, affirming space I realized what I was missing all along. In the few short weeks I’ve participated in book clubs and church services, I’ve learned so much from the stories of those I would have never crossed paths with had I settled in the space where I belonged but others did not.
So what is community? I see it as an inclusive space for shared experiences. And I desire to foster that everywhere I walk.
