Category: mission (Page 2 of 2)

Love in a garage sale group

My friends Kristy and Megan turned me toward the County Garage Sale trend at differing times, but now I regularly browse through the Facebook groups to see what’s offered that I need love. And, much like the rest of my life, it’s become a huge science experiment. Y’all, people are fascinating.

But now I’m sad.

First, there was this:

garage sale church.jpg

 

This one caught my eye first because it was about church and, on the whole, I seem to be about church. But the more I got to thinking about it, the more this post broke my heart.

Here was this person living through a difficult time. She decides that she needs to go to church to see if that won’t help – a noble and not always easy decision.

And she doesn’t know a single real-live person to ask where to go.

She asks a bunch of people who buy and sell junk together.

My friends, this is a problem.

It’s not a problem because the Garage Sale sites need to become our next marketing target – it’s a problem because the people going to the 109 churches of Miami County don’t know her personally, or not one of them has made it known to this woman that they do indeed attend and that she is welcome to join. Our circles don’t connect or even touch. The only place she can find someone who *might* go to church is on a garage sale site.

My science experiment moved forward a few weeks later:

garage sale need

Right there, among the Longaberger baskets, was a kind woman trying to help a family with children who had nothing. They needed food, clothes, toothpaste and all the very things we keep in stock because it’s on sale. And when looking for people to help contribute, the coordinator turned to: the garage sale site. Of course. Because people who sell crap are known among the world for helping the down and out. The church has no history there.

*Hangs head in shame.*

Finally, when my heart was already torn, a post stomped it into oblivion. It said, “are there any shelters in Troy for women and children?”

Until I joined a garage sale site, I didn’t realize how I surrounded myself with people who were just like me. I inadvertently thought we were all parents of toddlers who liked buying and eating local. I’ve realized I’m basically only around people who want to live into a better world and have the money to make decisions that will help them do it. We talk about our love for maxi skirts and disciplining kids and how hard it is to live your values. I wanted to believe we all have our “differences” but really, that comes down to meaningless stuff like if we were sprinkle-baptized or dunked, or maybe we choose to eat dairy-free instead of McDonalds.

Yesterday, along with these sites, revealed to me just how unlike Jesus I really am.

If all you do is love the loveable, do you expect a bonus? Anybody can do that. If you simply say hello to those who greet you, do you expect a medal? Any run-of-the-mill sinner does that.

It’s not my lack of helping people unlike myself. It’s not even my good intention-paved road.  It’s my lack of knowing people unlike myself that keeps me from living the gospel.

do you suffer from RLS?

According to whatever manual doctors consult (HB, help me here), RLS is now a diagnosable affliction. Which is astounding. Not once have I verbally communicated to my primary care physician about the fact that I’m bored in life. However, I believe myself to be a sufferer of Restless Life Syndrome. 

You know what I mean (I mentioned it the other day), when you start scouring the interwebs for the Next Great Thing, be it a job, a Ph.D. or a craft project. Or even a new haircut. Or outfit. Though my Lent restrictions have kept this pretty non-material. 
Part of the solution might be to STOP READING. I just picked up Radical and frequently play the fool’s part when I raise my hand in steady Amens. This, coming right off the tails of 7. If I were allowed to make the purchase, Barefoot Church would be waiting in the wings (can you believe the library doesn’t have a version for loan? Jen, what can we do about this? And did you notice how I just referred to Jen as if we’re on a first name basis? Well, we ARE facebook friends). 
Most remarkable is how my readings continue to widen the gap between where I am and where I want to be living. We finally have a house fit to host guests, steady jobs, well-behaved kids and the student loans paid off (private schools, may you have a private place in purgatory). Just when I should feel most settled, I’m ready to jump out of my seat at night. Much like the diagnosable RLS, it’s like an itch you can’t scratch, but it’s somewhere in your soul. 
The problem, my friends, isn’t diagnoses. It’s treatment. What do I do about it? I have an impending sense that it has something to do with being a good neighbor and living amid this new neighborhood and all that jazz. But not in a smile and wave kind of way. I believe God wants us to dig in. But as I say in about 84% of situations nowadays: What does that look like? And how do I squeeze that in between naptimes? 
The other looming conundrum: I need a people. A tribe. A support system. Folk who know I’m funny and don’t think I’m weird. That will push me when I need pushed and hold me when I need held. People who remind me I’m not always right and that everyone need not be just like me (oh, can you imagine even if there were more than 5 of me? Implosion. The world would implode due to noise and arm waggling). 
A quick Google Maps search of churches in town yields 39 results. And that doesn’t even branch to the nearby towns, like where the Big Church is. So why is it that I can’t seem to find other bodies of people who suffer RLS tendencies? OR, if they do, why aren’t we talking about what it means to live on a mission, even when it counters the American Dream? 
I’m not giving up on the current Sunday morning situation. But I’m not satisfied. And I know that I need to be, as KLR likes to chide, “part of the solution, not part of the problem” but I’m not sure how to jump in the pool and 3 months later start making waves. I’m pretty sure that it’s clear in the Church Finding Manual that making waves is frowned upon. 
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