I have a lot of compassion for people who have past scarring from bad churches. What a terribly confusing dilemma - looking for the place reputed to be the first haven for the ragamuffins and outcasts, only to find the family of Christ full of judgment and all sorts of grief.I know. I've been hurt by the Christian church in the past. I have suffered as a result of misunderstanding, fear, and the imperfections of the people who makes up the church. But I'm still here. And I want to help woo the alienated and give them hope and a reason to fall back in love with God's church.
In my life I have been in three churches: one Baptist, and 2 non-denominational. Presently, I go to a college-age homechurch in Xenos. We call ourselves Kodiak; this is some of us in the picture above. And it's a good little church. We're 30-some young adults between the ages of 18 and 27. We're a weird, abrasive, creative, and passionate group of people. We meet in the living room of a half-double less than a mile from Ohio State's campus; on one wall there's an assembled puzzle of "The Last Supper" opposite a rug mural of "Dogs Playing Cards".
And I have heard, and told, one too many bad church stories in my day. So I plan to combat that with what good stories I do have. That, here at least, we are a diverse and loving group with a quirky spread of abilities and personalities. A circle of people that welcomes in and tries to love the castout ragamuffins of the world that wash our way. A bunch who will stay up late together smoking cigarettes and telling stories around a campfire. We mentor each other, pray with each other, write encouragement notes for one another, bicker and cry at each other, and find more of God in the whole messy process. Some of us live together, often we'll vacation together, and are in fact about to spend an entire week down in North Carolina at Holden Beach. An imperfect and splendid mess.
It's not all sunbeams and unicorns; I've scars to show from my time here as well. But the alternative to the normal bumps and scrapes is a plastic peopleless bubble. And I'd like to start showing you reasons why it's worth the risk and hurt. The abundance of laughter and energy and friendships; the maturity and humility and sense of purpose. And the potential to be in one of the most real and beautiful things you'll ever be a part of.
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