Kristen Hennings
The church is a people who, not a place where.
As far back as I can remember, I have been saturated in the life and rhythms of church. Whether it was attending on a Sunday or volunteering in VBS, my roots have been raised from the soils of the western church. For years, every Sunday had imprinted the same rhythm; sitting in the wooden pew, on the same side of the church building, next to the same faces with the sermon spoken from the pulpit. These practices at a young age brought comfort and familiarity. Looking back, Sundays were “church,” it was a rhythm, but it was a song that had no meaning, as if I knew all the words but the lyrics that were breathed into the song had never saturated my heart or mind.
Quickly, church became stale to me, but what was outside of this routine seemed too frightening to venture out to find. As time went on, the more distant it all felt — like coming back to your childhood home, there was familiarity and comfort, but it all felt distant. The home itself no longer brought that same comfort as a dwelling place as you once knew. As I would stand at the front of church, looking at the steps that lead inside, a part of me always hoped for the rush of “home” to come back. Like the woman at the well, I searched for the well of living water that was preached from the wooden pulpit and for years I came up empty, angry and heart broken. But a part of me still held onto hope.
My hope was tested as I watched the church I was raised in pick sides between money or church family. One thing became apparent: the church I once knew was no longer home. The thought of, “how can a ‘family’ throw one of it’s members to the curb, especially at a time of need,” threw my heart into total confusion. But in the Lord’s kindness, beauty rose from ashes. A small group of family and friends, still mourning the loss and hurt, chose to come together. We embarked to still be the church. This was where the Lord began to show me that the church is a people who, not a place where.
Fast-forward to 2020, despite all of the chaos, I could see the Lord’s hand in my life. Though nothing felt certain, I could still hold my head above the water. And it was here that the Lord answered a prayer I had long forgotten. A prayer that, honestly, I had thrown to the ether as it had been left unanswered, living in echoes of silence for so many years. The answer to that prayer was City Parish. To this day, I laugh that during a time such as Covid (when we were all home and asked to stay inside), community was on the other side leading to a church I now call home. From the moment I moved to Sonoma County, the Lord was working out a way for me to land here with these people.
With City Parish I found accountability, transparency, humility, and grace. I found myself suprised how much my heart and mind were deeply craving authenticity in the church. City Parish stood out to me as they worked out challenges openly, followed through on their word (such as actually valuing and prioritizing community). I have never felt unseen. What I found within City Parish was the lesson the Lord began teaching me all those years ago — church truly is a people who, not a place where. I spent a year and half unable to attend church on Sundays. But as I showed up on Thursday nights for our MC’s Family Meal, I began to set my roots. My new church family received me as I was — ever eager to help grow in Jesus. They cared for me, in word and in deed, as they cared for this lost sheep.
I will always be a child born and raised in the church, I cannot change that. However, to this day, I see church with fresh eyes as City Parish continues to impact my life. As I continue to walk out my faith with my community and apprenticeship with the Lord, I am thankful that I get to do it with a church that can not fit in the confines of four walls.