Allison Campbell Jensen

Reading while bouncing along on the elliptical challenges me, so I was looking around at my fellow gymmies. One woman had a T-shirt decorated with a pea; and the word “Belong.” When she turned, I saw the other side, “like peas in a pod” with an image of tightly packed peas in a pod. Join a small group at this suburban church and you, too, could experience this tidiness, this uniformity, this comfort.

Comfort for her and others that I am certain would mean misery for me, however, given my unruly beginnings. Among the other anti-Establishment attitudes I absorbed, church was not valued in our family. Oh, we went to church, once. When I was about 7, Ma dropped off the three of us kids at a Presbyterian church and drove away. I do not remember the faces of the strange adults encountering an absent mother’s cast-offs—but do recall an aura of dismay or perhaps disapproval.

After that awkwardness, I was in no hurry to return to church.

In our house, the only phrases referring to God that did not also include –damn or -dammit were “God bless America and all the ships at sea” and “The Lord helps those who help themselves.” I took the latter to heart; relying on myself, I was able to use the Fannie Farmer cookbook to bake chocolate-chip cookies; to gad about creeks and woods solo; and, all on my own, clean out a former chicken coop for a playhouse. (Turns out that beforehand I should have asked the neighbor who owned the coop.)

Tops in my mother’s house—self-reliance; prominent wherever my dad was living when we’d visit in the summertime—simple orneriness. My parents divorced when I was 5, yet our parents agreed on that unspoken family value: It was admirable to stand alone and apart from the crowd.

Particularly in the early to mid-1960s when some crowds were saying hateful things about black people, outside seemed a good place to be. Yet even while our family embraced an idea of Brotherhood, in the real world, we kept to a very small circle. And we assumed those who wanted to belong to institutions—to the Elks, to a Big Business, to the Church—were not Thinkers as we were. To join something, after all, might erode that highly valued independence, might lead one to negotiate, to compromise, to cave—to lose an integrity of sorts. The sort that is never tested.

I scoffed at The Establishment, yet I yearned to step within an embrace. As I grew up, the good-hearted company of friends, boyfriends, fellow students, the family into which I married still left me wanting more. Divorced and headed toward my 40^th birthday, I tiptoed into the Episcopal Church and experienced revelations of acceptance, of openness, of love. Jesus loved those who were apart—working folks, tax collectors, even ladies of ill repute. The calls to care for the poor resonated with the values I knew from my parents. Could I also retain their lessons about independence and still belong here in a church?

I could—even while I learned that regular partaking of Divine Love does not turn humans angelic. Churches may promise the Kingdom of Heaven, they just might have leaky roofs, shaky budgets or cranky people. About two years after I was baptized, my beautiful church to which people gave gifts—lace-trimmed linens for the altars, elegant banners for the walls, an image of abundance painted behind the altar—was in dire financial shape and digging deep into a bequest to pay the staff and keep going.

Word reached beyond the walls and the bishop came to chide us lay leaders for “eating the seed corn.” In a church that allows individuals the freedom of individual thinking, several loudly complained that the bishop had no right to tell us what to do with “our” money.

And there’s the rub. To my mind, it wasn’t “our” money; it’s God’s money. But people stubbornly chose to revisit the hurt every Sunday. Their anger and my frustration finally drove me out to search for a new faith community.

For the first six months, I strove just to be there—to be and to be lifted up in worship and not to be dragged into conflicts. Finally I stepped beyond, and suggested a social justice group that was approved by the lay leadership. After it was announced to the congregation, I was caught alone in the library by a very long-time member. “You aren’t going to cause trouble, are you?” she asked. “No more than Jesus did,” I said. She scurried away.

A couple of years later, she hugged me during the sharing of the peace and said: “Love you.”

Wow. Just like Jesus.

By living in this faith community, working through tensions (when possible), living with discomfort (when not), I continue to live into a new reality that Jesus loves me and so I belong here. And, dismaying as it may feel at times, Jesus loves everyone and they all belong here, too.

Recognizing that the tidy pod of peas cannot be my ideal—I was brought up a bit too ornery for that, yet I choose to belong to a community that shares my faith in Jesus, belief in God’s mercy and commitment to the Spirit.

My vision of that belonging looks more like a cottage garden, with splashes of peonies and upstanding irises, blue and white phlox, and pink roses scented with cinnamon. Standalone sunflowers (this is not a garden limited by seasons) towering over bunches of daisies, cheery hollyhocks and lilies in all their gorgeous variety…. Imagine! Which flower am I? Which flower are you? I pray and hope and believe our variety delights God.

To get along, I’ve found it helpful to have a few rules—yes, those Ten Commandments and the commandment to love God and to love others as oneself. To these I add the guidelines posted on Facebook by Bishop Steve Charleston.

“Live for love, work for peace, dance for joy, give for hope, think for fun, climb for strength, walk for a cure, share for freedom, look for meaning, save for tomorrow, spend for others, care for all, laugh for heaven, cry for a reason, help for community, stand for justice, journey for truth, fly for vision, feel for wisdom, hide for shelter, build for the homeless, dig for answers, pray for ever, plan for a purpose, speak for solidarity, read for knowledge, teach for fulfillment, learn for curiosity, imagine for God, compromise for humility, be for who you truly are.”

God loves us, as we are. God wants us to spread that Love around to everybody else, even those not in the circle, the church or any church.