I don't really know how to find a new church. I've done it twice in my life, both times with another person to also consider, so picking a place that's right for just me is very much uncharted territory. Obviously, what I want is to arrive somewhere one Sunday morning and think, "This is it. I'm home." Even more obviously: that's not how life works.
|The right church doesn't have to be as|
pretty as this, but it wouldn't hurt.
Source: Júlia Tan on freeimages.com.
So I've fallen into a cycle of getting up on Sunday morning, full of determination to get at least a step closer to finding the right place for me, only to be discouraged by the time I need to head out because I don't know what set of doors my people are hiding behind. And so I think, "Maybe next week," and kick the discomfort forward to Future Su. Which solves nothing.
By the time this post goes live Sunday morning, I should be somewhere looking for my people. I don't know if I'll find them today, or next week, or next month, and that uncertainty has me in a vortex of displacement.
I wonder if there's a bike church around here?
*So, funny story about our first Sunday in Red River: someone who ended up being a very good friend later on shook my hand with such force that the bones in my hand popped, which happens a lot, but they popped with enough enthusiasm that he felt it, too, and he thought he'd broken something. It was totally worth it just for the look of horror that crossed his face.