There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. (I John 4:18)
This probably won’t have
much to do with the verse, but it has a lot to do with it. I’ve admitted to
being a coward in other areas of my life. I may as well bite the bullet and
admit what people probably already know. I’m a coward when it comes to
relationships, too. Or, perhaps it’s that I grew up with such a fear that even
if I’m not afraid, that’s the mode from which I work. I have been sure that
people would abandon me, so I tried to convince them to do so “now” instead of “later”
so it wouldn’t hurt so much.
I think I’ve gotten a
little better. The place I’ve lived for the past 9 winters helped me practice some
– and mostly more successfully than not (or so I like to think.) I considered what
it was about the place that allowed “community” to develop, and my conclusion was
the club houses. They certainly help because they create a space in which
community can develop, but I’ve figured out over the past few months that this
theory isn’t correct. At least, it’s not exclusively correct.
The clubhouses at Hillcrest
were, I think, training wheels, or maybe the parallel bars used to support
someone who is learning to walk after having been paralyzed or bedridden. I’m
saying those parallel bars and not a walker because the parallel bars stay at
the hospital or rehab facility. Sadly, I couldn’t take the club houses with me
when I moved back north.
But one of the things
that’s been on my heart since returning to Erie as a full-timer is building
community. One of the errors I made was in narrowing the focus to a community.
I’ve realized that I’m part of several communities both online and in “real
life.” There are also communities that I can step into with comparative ease
because I know the lingo. But the key is not the building. It’s me. It's you.
And that is scary, because
we could fail ourselves, or others. It might take work, or the assumption of
responsibility. And where’s the line that needs to be drawn between taking care
of myself and loving others? I’m an introvert. I need the alone time. I’m a
creative or imaginative sort (Dare I make those claims?) How can I make sure I
have time for that and still make time for community? I can go for a long time in
bulldozer mode – just plowing my way through it – but that causes burn out.
I have dreams that I’m afraid
to speak because that’s the way to make sure God will say, “No.” I love the idea
of being invisible – of doing good without anyone knowing I did it. I can get
up in front of a group without major qualms, but I like the notion of people not
knowing. I love the idea of creating a safe, beautiful place that produces a
harvest, whether of food for the body or food for the soul. I also want to
create a base of operations and triage center – a place where battles can be
planned and fought, and souls can be mended. I’m not sure what those mean, other
than that I have to build community in which I am the club house. And that’s really scary – but probably a lot
easier than I believe.
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