We meet on Saturday nights (I love that our worship is on the Sabbath) and we just jump right in. Sometimes we pray first, sometimes we pray in the middle. We always pray at the end.
We ask God to gather in, to have the Holy Spirit be alive. We each come to the “spiritual potluck” with a dish. One that is from our own gifting, one that God gave each of us.
Sometimes we sing, sometimes not. We wait on God, so there are pauses (sometimes awkward, sometimes not).
Then we break bread together. We each bring something for a meal and partake together with all our (many) children. It’s beautiful.
But that’s not all.
We live life together during the week, too. Prayer needs, many times in person, are met. Gatherings to laugh and be silly are had. Birthday parties for the kids. Movie time for the guys. Chat time for the ladies. Decision meetups for the parents to decide the faith-path our kids will take.
There are leaders, but there is no hierarchy. We are each there to edify the Body. We are vulnerable and (because we want to be) a bit in each others’ business more than I’m used to (I say that as a former shut-in) and it’s all love. So much love.
We might disagree and then agree, or maybe we didn’t even notice because it was all fine again and smoothed over so quickly. Because the Spirit is so incredibly alive. And powerful. And in charge. And the head of this ekklesia we call church.
This is the Body. I can hardly breathe for the grace. It’s immeasurable.
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