End of an Era

It was over two years ago that I joined an experiment that would last until last July, an experiment that would significantly change me and the eleven others involved. That experiment was the creation of a new church comprised of twelve members whose purpose was to serve the people of downtown Stockton. Most attractive to me about it was that half of our income would be used in some way outside the church, to benefit the local community or to aid in international assistance.

In that span of time, we did in fact serve in ways we'd envisioned. One of our first events was a pizza and school supplies giveaway (coupled with games for the kids who came) toward the end of our first summer. Many of those who came seemed genuinely happy at this. Through that year, we also hosted an event called a "card me house party," wherein each person's ticket to the event was a gift card. Once inside, chips could be purchased to play card and other games, with the resulting collection going to a local child abuse shelter and an international relief organization. We later took part in something further, called "Tom's Shoes," where we purchased blank white shoes from a company (Tom's Shoes) that gives much of the proceeds away to charity. We then recruited church members and other volunteers to offer foot massages to women from a local women's shelter, along with the free shoes, which they could decorate as they wanted.

That next summer, we repeated the pizza and school supplies giveaway, but perhaps the most visible outreach of our church came-- tragically-- toward the end of the church's life: a community garden. One of our members had it on her heart to organize a garden in the parking lot of the self-same child abuse prevention shelter that we'd donated to through the card me house party (a plot of grass covers about one-fourth of the lot). We built the garden beds and the irrigation system, then planted fruits and vegetables, all with the intention that local families would be able to cultivate their own food in subdivided plots.

These were only the larger events, but we also contributed to Kiva, a microloan organization that helps families in various countries start up businesses and then repay their loans; we sponsored a child through World Vision; and donated funds to that non-profit as well, among other things.

When the church dissolved, I suppose I would have believed church life would have returned to the way that it was before I joined, but it was (and is) not to be. The church we were was small, and forced us-- especially at the beginning-- to depend on one another, since we had come from a church that was rich in community. That alone reshaped the perspective that at least some of us had about what a church truly is. In my previous church, I'd led or co-led studies, but I'd never felt that my absence would be so noticed as it would be in this new church. Small emotional ripples in one person-- whether that was joy, frustration, or something else- could be felt as waves in the group. As a result, there was no hiding here. You were who you were, and everyone could see it. Such closeness would lead us to an interdependence that I'd never experienced. Equally important, if less obvious, was our spiritual maturity. Because the weight of this experiment fell on only a few shoulders, each of us was also challenged to grow in leadership or other areas as we met through the weeks. We became leaders in our own ways, and happily, God seemed fully part of the process: we were praying together, our hearts seemed to want the things he does (worshiping him with generous lives), and we were unified.

Alas, things began to fall apart in 2011. What began as a corporate lack of direction ended with fatigue and disillusionment. For the most part, the church's end was a velvet divorce, but it was a divorce nonetheless; and it exhibited some of the qualities that divorces do: there were a few hurt feelings, and there were-- and continue to be-- dying relationships (although most are friendly dying relationships). I hold to my firm belief, however, that "God works for the good of those who love him," and know that he can take events like these and use them to build something more beautiful than we ever could have constructed alone (Genesis 50:20 comes to mind).

We are different, but different in a good way. I wouldn't take back this experience if given the choice. I made good friends and had the privilege of being involved in a wonderful purpose whose intent was to honor God and to benefit the people around us.