Community.
Instantly, a barrage of feelings hits me. How can one word provoke such strong reaction? On the positive side, I note: filling, encouraging, blessing. But on the negative: depleting, discouraging, exhausting. Why the disparity, and when is one or the other in effect?
When I’m healthy and doing well, community plays a rewarding role in my life. I seek community, absorb from it, come away refreshed and refilled. But when I come to community feeling depleted and feeling empty, it’s no longer a positive thing; as a matter of fact, I view it as a negative that drains an empty well even more. And lately…well, lately I’ve been in this camp. So I was pouring out my feelings to God, feeling guilty about how many times we’d opted out of seeking community when it seemed like suddenly the Holy Spirit provided just a little bit of clarity and insight on this sticky issue.
Recently I’ve felt like my emotional tank’s on empty and my reserves are gone. I judge I have little or nothing to offer and so I want to somewhat of a recluse right now, to be perfectly honest. When you’re mostly an introvert with extrovert abilities like I am, you require time alone to re-build lost inner strength. And to find that sense of peace and calm so necessary to hear God’s voice in your life.
So I tell myself it’s perfectly acceptable and right to go inward for a while. To skip community for a season and mostly avoid being around groups of people to allow my inner soul time to heal. I seek God in the quiet…the quiet of my home, my devotional place at the kitchen table, on my morning walk up Mt. Scott, in my quoting of Scripture as I drive my car in utter silence of solitude. And this is okay, I tell myself. This is needful, this is what I must do to heal and build up and not just survive, but thrive in the ministry where God has so graciously placed us.
But when is it time to actively re-enter community? When am I successfully recharged, “done” and, armed with the reserves built up once more, ready to be in the midst of people groups again? This is where I get stalled, stuck, and sadly, find myself offering a pathetic list of excuses to stay in the alone. And then it struck me: am I still healing in this place? Or am I hiding now? If so, what am I hiding from?
*being wounded
*too high expectations that I can’t meet
*judgment
*discouragement
*being drained…again
So on the pretext of seeking my God in the solitude…of being refreshed and refilled by the Holy Spirit…I’m actually hiding from my fears? Possibly. And if my “healing” has been an unnaturally prolonged period, probably. Am I saying it’s never legitimate to set aside some time to regroup, refill when I’m running on empty? Of course not. But at some point, I realize it’s time to…trust. To run into the open arms of a community that will love, feed, encourage, bless. Is it a risk? Absolutely. To love is to risk. To live a full life is to risk. Jesus never promised us a journey that’s easy or without risk. He also never promised happiness; but he did promise real joy.
I’m a lap swimmer. Every single time I sit on the edge of the pool–digging into my reserves, finding the courage to begin–I feel the cool water and know: the shock of that first plunge will take my breath away. So I sit there a while, gathering the will to take that plunge. Finally, I push off…suck in my breath….stretch my arms out before me and kick my legs. A few strokes later I’ve completely forgotten the cold; now I thoroughly pleasure in the even stroking, the push and pull, the rhythm of the crawl. It feels wonderful.
Community beckons to me again. I pray for the courage to plunge into its embrace once more. Will I be hurt? Will I be disappointed? Or will it take my breath away in the exhilaration of corporate worship of my God?
God, grant me the will and the courage to jump into your tangible, touchable arms.
Community.