Missing My Home Church

It was to be expected of course. Homesickness is one of the many challenges which people face when they move far from home. I find myself missing Indiana more and more, not only because I am so far away but because Virginia is so different. I felt it most keenly as I sat in the church service this morning. I sat in an ocean of people, Christians eager to worship God. It comforts me to know that the same God they praised this morning is the same God my own home church was praying, but the differences made it hard for me to focus.

What’s so different you might ask? Nothing significant. I’m used to the small town familiarity of my home church. This church, though incredible, is enormous with a church population larger than the town high school. I found myself homesick for the off white walls and the odd peaked ceiling of my own home church in a room so small that no matter where you stand in it you can see just about everyone in the audience. I miss recognizing new faces and knowing the names of most everyone there. I miss “be friendly” time that consists of more than introductions. I also miss the distinct element of country that is a part of my own home church. Nothing really runs quite as smoothly as it should in my home church. There’s times when the service gets interrupted. The night service or prayer meeting might be stalled because a bat got loose in the vestry. There’s an element to my home church that isn’t here. Everything is worked out and planned to a certain degree, and that is understandable. When you are dealing with a congregation of over two thousand, you have to be planned or else you’ll lose control. Perhaps most importantly I miss the feeling of family. I think I might feel that most acutely because so many of my family members went to my home church it was almost like a family reunion. Of course people got frustrated and angry with each other at times, but it was impossible to disappear and there were good moments besides. Here I feel as if I could slip down beneath the chairs and no longer exist. Finding someone you know seems like an incredible challenge unless you have precise intention to find that other person. The foreignness will fade in time because I plan to keep going. Some of those faces that I see will become attached to stories as they become people I know. But there is also an element that will always be true: this church is its own church.

The city is truly an incredible place. There’s thousands of people here, all with their own lives, hopes, and dreams. Instead of having two groceries to choose from, I have literally hundreds. Any thing I might possible want to buy, I can probably find here. Anything I want to learn, I can probably discover here. People from all over the world live in this place. Incredible surprises and adventures wait throughout this city with curving roads and packed streets. But my heart is in the country. Indiana in particular. This is my first time living outside of that familiar little boot state, and I miss it. I miss the people who live in it most of all, but if I go into that any further, I know that I will end up with more than a bout of homesickness and a full fledged attack.