Perhaps you’re a little like me. One that shies away from “women-y” things. One that steers clear of hypothetical drama (because the good Lord and I break a sweat excavating my own endless pit without adding fuel to the fire.)
Born and bred in the South, I learned to read others. When to respond with the understood “Fine”. To nod, smile and even better, belly laugh. I perfected the art of simultaneously fake laughing while exclaiming, “I love it!” And maybe I did. Yet the auto-response eventually covered insecurity escaping from my eyes.
It begins as early as we can remember. Right before we run off to school, we smear on our mama’s lip-gloss and clamp down as many hair-clips our endless bangs will allow. Every attempt to fit in, to measure up, to belong.
Those early years putting my best foot forward, I appeared to have it together to win friends. But years down the line, life happens and our hearts break and we are happy to just make it out alive, never mind the lip gloss or hair-clips. In that tragic moment, our brokenness pours out unbridled, met with like-minded comrades that magically appear from the woodwork.
But it’s not magical at all, is it? Turns out, they were there all along. Lost and confused, yet earnest and hopeful. In loss, we found each other.
Growing up in the church, I’ve slowly watched loved ones flee it’s hallowed ground. Fast and furious as far as their legs could carry them. To other regions, other continents, and other religions. Because they never felt safe to bear their shame or when they tried, their pleas for acceptance weren’t heard. I bear some of that weight. My years of looking good and not showing my mess kept them at a distance.
But, no more. I’m no longer hiding the brokenness. Starting with my own depraved heart, I’m begging God to make our generation new. Remarkably, in God-like fashion, He’s assembled quite a little army of women that feel the same. Hands to the heavens, knees buried in dust, we are crying out for Him to make Himself known. To us. In our time.
And the craziest of crazies, we really believe He will. Because we want to be a Church that says “Rise up and walk.” We want to see the Spirit burn like fire in our hearts, where we walk in newness of life from a heart that’s been torn and broken and mended and made new. And we want to do it together. Because behind the attempts at pretty and put-together, we long to be a part of something bigger than ourselves.
My home church in New York City, Trinity Grace, has taught me to cling to this verse as we cry out for Him to show up:
LORD, I have heard of your fame; I stand in awe of your deeds, LORD.
Repeat them in our day, in our time make them known;
in wrath remember mercy.
So if any of this sounds like something you’d be interested in, we’d be honored to have you. And hear you. And learn with you, in February 2014. Please share your email at the following link for updates in the days ahead.
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