Faith in Numbers

“Girl, you’ve got some faith”, she said to me with shopping bags weighing down her tired shoulders.  It was late on a Sunday afternoon in foggy London town and a girlfriend and I had just finished a whole day of city wandering.  Between baristas and bookstores she, I think, had hoped I’d call it a day.  But, knowing my Sunday routine the commitment was set in stone to be alongside for the journey which included a 7 p.m. church service many miles from our shared accommodation. We collapsed into the pew covered by bags and bad attitudes.

I used to spend a good portion of my Sundays living on public transportation.  Leaving my flat around 3 o'clock in the afternoon to embark on what felt like a grand adventure, introduced me to the alternate ego of the city that was trains, tubes, and buses, not to mention the mastered art of high heeled walking.  All to sit in the back corner of a well known church in the south west end of London, just around the corner from the infamous Harrods department store. 

I dedicated this six hour journey on a weekly basis to grow closer in my faith to God.  I thirsted for Him deeply and enjoyed these moments of solitude in both preparing for and having drank from his proverbial cup.  The acoustic guitar echoed throughout the vast space of the century old church.  Years of history soaked the walls.  Grace spilled from the stained glass windows.  A random conversation in Winnipeg, before moving, led me here to this place.  The place that carried me through the better part of my spiritual walk while I lived overseas.  The place that prepared me for the weeks ahead.

But, more often than not, during this season and others, I felt like a faceless Christian;  masquerading through the busy streets of the urban jungle.  Longing for God in the public places where he wasn’t spoken of, loving him in the private moments where I could sing his praise.  Careful not to say the “J” word for fear of losing friends and alienating people.  Very much alone on my journey with him.  A long, slow, drawn out challenging journey where the waves could easily toss me about.  Seeing ships of people dancing in the moonlight, sipping drinks, and celebrating, only to be alongside them paddling solo in my canoe.  I wonder, have you been there?

One tangible thing God has taught me over this past decade is the importance of living in community.  While I relished and treasured my seasons alone with God, it’s in community, with other people who I can love and talk and pray with, that my faith has been more apt to grow. 

The single most influential thing that brings me closer to Jesus, aside from his pursuance and spirit, is the people in my life who know Him.  Who live for Him.  And honor Him.  Who bend to Him.  People who have walked through infertility, who have shouldered the burden of depression, who have been crippled in pain, who have lost loved ones, but who trust in Him at his word and fall to him in their valleys.

Broken, complicated, messy people whom he loves deeply and fiercely.  Who are his children. Who walk beside me, pray for me, encourage me and serve with me. And I wonder, why I didn't do this sooner.  This whole living in community thing.

Jesus spent time in prayer and solitude, absolutely, but he spent most of his time relationally. He hand-picked a group to walk and share life with.  Imperfect people.  Perfect community.  If you are walking solo, or alone in your canoe, there is a ship full of community just waiting to take you on board. And the celebration needs your presence.  Your faith just may need it too. If you are struggling solo in your boat, glance up and I promise, he will pour out community on you.

~When two or three gather together because they are mine, I am there among them.~Matthew 18:20