Finding Christian Community Across Hundreds of Little Moments

God told me to start a Bible study. He didn’t speak with an audible voice, but it must have been him because everything in my rational mind refused: I’ve never led a Bible study. I’m not qualified for this. I don’t even have friends in this city!

Convinced he picked the wrong girl, I prayed–rather, told God–if this was him, I needed at least three women. Anticipating no provision and ease of my conscience, I asked around to the few people I knew. To my shock, three women said yes. 

I sat with them that first evening on my living room floor, tripping over my words and watching my hands shake as though I was 6 Red Bulls deep. I was so nervous. And I was genuinely surprised when all three returned the following weeks.

Eight years later, I still find myself tripping over words and watching my hands shake with nerves every time I lead a new group. And I still find myself relieved when people actually come back. While some aspects of Bible study and community have become more familiar over the years, much of it still makes me nervous and still feels unnatural. But regardless of ease, community grows over time, and it continually evolves across hundreds of little moments.

My first adult memory of Christian fellowship began at Hobby Lobby. I drove with a new friend, a pastor’s daughter, to pick out florals for a holiday wreath. And I was terrified. I didn’t know what to talk about and felt worried I might say something improper around such a high status Christian. After shopping, she kindly gave me a tour of her home and shared frustrations with a work crew and current home updates. Oh, Christians can get frustrated too, I observed with relief. 

A few weeks into Bible study, one of the women started texting me throughout the week about non-Bible study things. She’d message me about her kids, a funny joke or something related to a previous conversation. I felt so valued. I think I made a friend, I celebrated.

Fall always meant Packer season. So one weekend, my husband and I invited fellow church members over to watch a game. We never had church friends before, so I wasn’t sure how to act outside of Sunday morning chit chat. But with cheese on our heads and brats on our plates, we realized “church people” weren’t as different as we assumed. I have things in common with them, I realized. 

Without recognizing it, a community of friendship and fellowship was built across hundreds of little interactions and invitations like these. I melted with gratitude when I needed prayer, because I knew I had a praying tribe. I eagerly grew in my walk with the Lord, because I walked alongside others. And over play dates, family dinners and football parties, I watched and learned how to practically apply the Bible to my life.

I had never experienced anything like it. And in the whirlwind of 2020, I lost it all when my family unexpectedly relocated to a new city. 

I tried staying positive, anticipating I could repeat everything and establish new community quickly.

But finding a church was hard. How do we pick one? I stressed.

I sampled play dates. I don’t fit in here, I believed. 

I joined a disciple group. Everyone already knows each other. They don’t want me attending, I convinced myself.

The internal voice of oppression was overwhelming. But desperate to recover what I left behind, I kept trying. And again, without recognizing it along the way, new friendships were built across hundreds of little interactions and invitations.

During a recent women’s conference, leaders reflected on a survey. What did we want most? Community. Whether we are new to a city, new to Christian fellowship or new to our kid’s sports team, we aren’t ever alone in wanting relationships. There will always be opportunities and challenges to development, but we’re all on an ongoing journey of loving God and loving his people.

But through Christ, God’s people are our people. At the cross, when Jesus cried out for our forgiveness, he brought us into his family. “In love (God) predestined us for adoption to himself as sons through Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 1:4-5). As adopted members of His house, we have belonging and have responsibility to love and care for each other. 

Establishing community and building relationships is hard. It takes effort, time and intention. But it also brings an abundance of blessing. My examples are little pieces of my story, but the narrative is still being written. It is for each of us. And in Christ, the stories will continue forever, eternally spanning an endless array of interactions and invitations.