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I grew up in a church where what you wore meant more than what you said, where how much money you gave meant more than what you did during the week, where who your family was meant more than who you were. It was political and overpowering and oppressive. I left the church thinking God hated me.

For five years I was lost, alone and wandering. I found my way to a church that had open doors and was surprised to be welcomed in, warts and all. These people walked with me, encouraged me through some extremely hard times. And, I learned that while God can be and is seen through people, not everyone who claims his favor has it. Not everyone who sits in church is a Christian and not everyone who calls themselves a Christian is a follower of Christ.

Now in another season of darkness in my life, I am worshipping with and have become family to a group of people meeting in a strip mall. On purpose. There is no intent to ever own a church building. Why?

Acts 17:17 “So he reasoned in the synagogue … as well as in the marketplace day by day with those who happened to be there.”

We meet on Sunday mornings but we are family; we are friends. We meet in each other’s homes. We participate in each other’s lives. We welcome everyone who walks through the door and invite them to eat with us, talk with us, play with us. After all, we are all simply wanderers on the same journey popping onto the road from different places. We are all broken to some degree and we help each other on the path to wholeness. ❤

Anyway… I hope you enjoy/appreciate this re-post as much as I did.