Maybe community as a group doesn’t exist. Is there
a place to belong, to breathe deep without fear of regulation and restraint—
to be who I am and am becoming in safety—
knowing and being known,
Maybe community as a group doesn’t exist.
Maybe community comes in ones and twos, bits and snatches
of love and connection.
Maybe it comes in those broken times when my fear and doubt, that in some eyes would threaten the stability of all of Christendom, is rather met
with understanding and the ah-ha’s that underscore I am not alone in my loss and alienation.
Maybe community is found in the stumbling along, the leaning on, the my picking you up and the you picking me up stuff of life,
not in the largeness, and the rightness of group but
in the ones and twos,
fellowship of the weak.
“We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.” (New Living, II Cor. 4:7)
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