I left the Green House New Years Eve, having worshiped there exactly one year. I enjoyed my time there but there were lingering issues of discomfort. I felt like an outsider, like a chronic outsider, like an outsider who would never hope for a snowball's chance in hell of turning into an insider. They were nice people, lovely people, but they were insular. You had to be a Mennonite by birth to be really part of this church. It wasn't a written nor even a spoken rule, but it was tacit and felt. The leader of the church did not like me at first. I was not one of them. As well as being not Mennonite I was clearly too charismatic and evangelical by background, experience and theological orientation to feel really trusted there. He did get unpleasant for a while and threatened to get nasty. I threatened back. We both got over it.
They did not square with my vision of a healthy church. They were not diverse, they were small, insular and introverted. They were artists and educated eggheads. And they were Mennonites. I was none of the above. I had, as I have now, a far higher than average IQ, but I had completed only one year of college. I was, as I am now, artistically gifted, but I had done very little to develop my talent. I was very intrigued by their version of Christian feminism and I was hugely in agreement with them. There was a keen emphasis that in Christ there is neither male or female. It was through my interaction with the Green House that I finally felt confirmed and reassured in being androgynous. I also wholly endorsed their vision for living simply and without tons of unnecessary material baggage. There was however one glaring difference on this matter between me and the others. They had opted of their own choice to live modestly and simply. For me it was a fact of life due to circumstances beyond my control. One day I did speak to them at length about this, telling them that they had not the foggiest idea what it is like to be involuntarily poor. Not that I had aspirations towards wealth. The beauty of it is they did understand what I was saying and they supported me. For a while anyway we did become friends if in a slightly distant sense. I would always be an in-law.
I loved our common meals. During the summer we would meet at five on Sunday afternoons. Otherwise it was at ten in the morning. We would rotate: one would provide soup, another bread, another cheese and another salad. I loved this form of potluck. It felt liturgical and sacramental. During these meals I did feel really at one with these people and to this day I regret having left them so suddenly and so prematurely. But I was on the verge of turning twenty-four, impulsive and headstrong. I learned a lot from these people: about classical music, art, politics, about community, about courtesy and etiquette and about persevering love and about social justice.
I also gravely missed charismatic worship. I missed the Jesus Freaks. I missed spontaneous expressions of love and joy. And I missed the complete, messy and absolute diversity of the incongruous groupings of some of the most beautiful and damaged people I had ever known. I walked around carrying a huge hole in my heart and nothing could fill it.
I also was by far the youngest member of this Church. I lacked experience and accomplishment. I felt hopelessly incomplete. I also knew without knowing that I would be needing much more help and support than this house church nor any church would ever be able to provide.
Still, I loved walking there and back every Sunday from my white and blue tiled housekeeping room. I came to know in almost intimate detail almost every charming old house, garden, tree and friendly neighbourhood cat as I walked a distance of a mile and a half each way, praying silently or singing audibly in all manner of weather.
I left the Green House and the following Sunday began to visit an evangelical community church on the West Side of town. It was okay, not exactly Valhalla and I did not even suspect the many future problems I was already sowing for a harvest. Right or wrong I stepped forward and I would have to somehow make the best of whatever would come.
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