The Great Church Hunt, Part 2

I've decided that the absolute hardest thing about moving to a new town is finding a church. At least, that's the case for me. Coming to Colorado has been wonderful. Despite my fears, I've never doubted that this is where God wants me. But it's hard. This is the first time that, week after week I've sat alone in church. And felt sorry for myself. And left in tears because I'm so frustrated.

It's not that I haven't found churches that I like. As a matter of fact, I've pretty much decided on one that I would like to get more involved in. But it's still hard (I know, I know, who said it would be easy.) But take last Sunday for example. You know, all I wanted was for someone to invite me to lunch. I even prayed for it. I just needed a friendly face, someone who would smile at me and say, hey, you're new in town, join us for lunch. And you know, the pastor even mentioned it in his sermon (not taking ME to lunch, necessarily, but he talked briefly about the church being a community, invite someone to lunch, blah blah.)

So, after church I just kind of meander around, taking my time to leave. Surely, someone will ask me to lunch. God ordained it. But as the minutes crept by, I felt more and more alone. I drew my Bible to my chest like a shield...from what, I'm not sure. I walked slowly to my car...someone? anyone?

But it didn't happen. So I sat in my car and cried like a baby. Big, fat, crocodile tears. And I felt sorry for myself. And when I got to my apartment I stomped up the stairs and slammed my door and ate chocolate ice cream. Because I didn't feel like dealing with it. I didn't feel like wondering why. I just felt like feeling sorry for myself, and wallowing in my pity for a while. Healthy? Probabaly not. But I did it anyway.

So I'll try again this Sunday. And I'll pray again for some kind of fellowship, friendship, some kind of ship. (Please, read that carefully, I said shiP!) And we'll see how this week goes.