Strangers in a Small Group

We're in a quandary. We're strangers in a strange land. And we feel it.

It hit home in the past few days. We're surrounded by a number of imports from California, so you'd think we might feel relatively comfortable despite the natural discomfort related to moving to a new place. However, this is not Santa Barbara. The bumper stickers for Obama are few and far between (as are, it should noted, McCain stickers). Fortunately there is a great deal of cultural mixing here, as there should be in a large city. However it is still a large city and therefore Phoenix has nooks, crannies, and neighborhoods.

While people are sweet and helpful, we feel like we have to hide who we are. In some ways it is worse for me, in others it is worse for Christian. Over the course of my life I have often felt like the heretic in the room. This means that I am relatively used to being careful with my words and how many toes I step on. At other points though, it becomes unbearable.

For example, the other night we went to small group. While we did share quite a bit, there were some issues that arose that made us uncomfortable. For someone like me who was raised in a community where all were welcome, I was taught to be sensitive with my words. It's very easy to be careless with one's words and thereby alienate half the room by using a single slur or poorly chosen phrase. When a person is surrounded by people who seem to be like them, it becomes easy to make fun or be careless, as there is a perceived level of comfort. The reality is, differences are much deeper than skin, sex, or the football team you support. Fundamentally, as people of faith we must choose words that help and do not hurt. We must use words that open doors rather than pigeonhole and stereotype. I should say that we all forget, we all make mistakes, and in a good community (as evidenced in small group) we reconcile and move past things. The mistake and reconciliation actually made Christian feel more comfortable than previously (this may be because he is more openhanded with his language than I am).

Another issue, which may be the difference of denomination (I can't be entirely sure) is the assumption that everyone in the room has more than a few basic beliefs in common. Some people find the belief that Mary was a "virgin" to be fundamental and incontrovertible. I would not. I'm not sure Mary was a "virgin", in fact, I'm pretty sure there was a simple change of a Greek word by a person after some time to "virgin" from "maiden." "Maiden" of course opens up a whole can of worms that most people don't want to touch with a 50 foot pole. After all, it's rather difficult to stomach that the person our faith surrounds could have been the illegitimate child of a rapist, or Joseph, or some other random Hebrew boy (or Roman for that matter - Mary was from a poor family and thus vulnerable). The only things we can be absolutely certain about are these: Mary was Jesus' mother. Jesus changed the course of history. God made wonderful things happen because of him, and the faith of millions rests on this man.

Another thing was the phrase "the holy spirit comforts". God is not comfortable. I do not think faith or religion or even your relationship with God can be comfortable. It is necessarily problematic, frightening, frustrating, and often discouraging. Sometimes on the other hand, it can be joyful to the point of pain, overwhelming, touching, and wonderous. A friend of mine (actually several) have told me often I appear as a person taking the drug Ectasy. Of course, I've never taken that drug (nor have I ever had the remotest curiousity about it) but I do find wonder in the smallest things in a day. A butterfly on an industrial street can make me stop and marvel (with no doubt a ridiculous smile on my face) which often makes companions shoot me incredulous looks and inspires nervous laughter. Apparently they aren't able to see what I see.

I feel like an alien. Christian feels homesick for his consistent and deep knowledge of people and places in Southern California. He also feels a bit like an alien, but more than anything, he feels like he is lying. He feels like he is lying about who he is, who we are, through omission. I told him I would answer any question a person posed (which I did in small group despite the obvious discomfort this caused me) I just don't want to rock the boat unnecessarily. Though I may have done so just now.

Our confusing experience caused us to consider other questions. What is the purpose of a small group? Why do we have it? Is it to learn? Is it to share our feelings and get to know one another? Who decides what we discuss? Who should decide and why? Should it be a free for all?

At one small group at my old church in New York the adults (I know this through remote reconisence missions rather than direct experience as I was rather young) met around a single question every two weeks. The question was "How have you experienced God in the past two weeks (it may have been every week...I can't remember exactly)?" I think this might have been around the time I started learning to enjoy and marvel at a single butterfly. I know that was when my dad began doing the same.

Small groups are a good thing. They force us to interact in ways we would not do in church, or possibly anywhere else. They're somewhere between Bible study, Sunday School, club meetings, and dinner parties (think 0,0 on an XY graph). They force things to come out that may have never come out otherwise. I feel after just one session, I might not only rock the boat if I'm not careful, I may even slingshot everyone out into shark infested waters. With any luck, we may be swallowed by a whale.