What Does It Mean to Belong?

Two Sundays back I went to Redeemer for the first time since I left for internship. Somewhere in the middle of singing some praise songs I found myself in tears. I missed Trinity and Redeemer is very similar to Trinity in many ways. Later that night before I went to bed I sat and thought about what had happened that day. I'd been crying over leaving Trinity for at least a month and I began to wonder if I was missing some part of the healing process that should have been more obvious to me. It seemed so close and yet I couldn't quite name it. As I sat there thinking, it occurred to me what the issue might be.

My last sermon at Trinity was on the Canaanite woman who asks Jesus to heal her daughter but JC says "No, I came for the lost sheep of Israel." So the woman pleads, "Even the dogs eat the crumbs from the master's table." JC then responds that the woman's faith is so great and her daughter is healed. I saw so many similarities in her story and mine that I shared how lost I have been for most of my Christian travelings and how I have been searching for something missing which I knew had to do with God and me, but that was about it.

Afterwards, Paul came up to me and asked me "So how's the story end?" I never did get to answer him. Eventually I wrote back that "It ends with me finding what I was looking for--love, grace, acceptance, belonging." My story is the Canaanite woman's story. Most of my life in the church I've felt like an outsider. I grew up in the Lutheran church, but they never seemed to speak my language. There was no youth group and so I had to find my own connections through my friends' youth groups (which entailed a smattering of theologies and beliefs). When I had the most questions and confusion (basically 6th grade-college) it seemed that the church had abandoned me to my own devices.

What I realized from my Sunday episode after I'd written out some of what I was feeling was that I missed belonging like I did at Trinity--not just the people in particular, but the ways in which I was connected to them and how that made me feel. It occurred to me that all I had to do was start belonging somewhere else. It would be a waste in a sense and not using all that I've learned in this last year about how and what it means to belong to a people to just hole up in my apt. and feel sorry for myself, or to keep mourning and miss the morning (Psalm 30.4-5). Not that grief isn't real or will instantly disappear. I guess this is the piece I thought I was missing. My plan is to get more involved at Redeemer and start building some connections there. A year is loads of time to make a difference in peoples' lives even if you're leaving at the end of it. Such have I learned on internship.

So I carry with me this larger question: What does it mean to belong? The kind of belonging that cares for your social, emotional, physical, mental and spiritual well being. It doesn't just happen, but takes time and cultivation. It's something you grow into like a garden producing its fruits and yield.

A New Old Frontier: Flatland MN

Today we traveled from Bismark, ND to St. Paul, MN. The morning drive was fairly uneventful. We reached the Fargo area around noon and planned on stopping there for lunch. Apparently in ND it is typical and acceptable to not post what food, gas or lodging is available at the exits near these towns as they are so very metropolitan. Sadly we sailed through Fargo with no food. Suddenly we were in MN and the nearest town was Fergus Falls--oh yes, 47 miles away. So on we drove.

The drive that extra hour wad kind of hard actually. The long awaited journey to MN had finally arrived and it seemed to have happened all too soon. The reality of what I was doing sank in and I tried to keep the tears in my eyes. The end was fixed and certain now.

We actually had a nice lunch at Burger King in Fergus Falls. I stretched and walked around the parking lot while people from the drive thru stared at me strangely. Karen sat in the car and soaked up the sun. It was rather chilly in the car due to the sun keeping our top halves warm and the AC freezing our feet. Naturally the body responds by sweating. The sun was a welcomed relief from the odd climate of the car.

From there it was a quick couple hours into town despite some light early rush hour traffic. Before we realized it we were pulling into the seminary parking lot around 5pm and off to the housing office to pick up my apartment keys.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a young woman appeared at the curbside. Her name was Beth and she lives in Apt. 109 (right below me). She offered to help me move my things into my apartment. I was surprised. No one at Luther does this. Not unless you ask them to help you or you already know them. Apparently at PLTS "everyone" comes out to help you move in when you arrive. This is facilitated by the U shape the apt. building is in, but nonetheless, there she stood waiting to help me out. Within a half hour the car and the roof top bag were emptied, in my apt. and Karen and I had made a new friend.

Amidst unpacking we wound up emptying out my storage bin searching for the bolts to put the futon base together. We didn't find them, but we did move a lot of stuff into my apt. Including my dresser which was quite challenging considering that we were using a cart on the roughest black top ever. If the dresser wasn't rumbling off the cart then a drawer was flying out or the other side chest was flying off the cart. One of the drawers did fall onto the ground and got knicked up pretty good. It's on the bottom of the dresser now. Oh well. It adds character and tells a great story!

When we couldn't move anything more, we finally sat and rested. Or more appropriately, passed out from all the driving, traveling and moving. All I could think when I was falling to sleep was: Where am I?