My journey as a spiritual nomad

Ah, the doldrums of January -- somehow the hustle and bustle of the holidays come to a screeching halt, and we're left with dreary weather and suddenly a lot more time to reflect on life.  For me, it's more than just the beginning of a new year that inspires me to make a fresh start.  It's trying to return to normal life after the holidays, and then slowly realizing that I'm not sure what normal looks like anymore. The new year is an opportune time for us to create the "new normal," in hopes that we can get back into proper balance in life.  

As with many of us, this greater focus on self-reflection has brought up some uncomfortable issues for me. The primary one being, I don't feel that I'm in a much better place spiritually than I was a year ago when I decided to take a break from New Life, my church home for over eight years.  For some time I had felt a spiritual malaise setting in, like I was only attending church out of duty.  I still felt that it was a fine place of worship, but it no longer felt like the New Life I had once known, where I had experienced such amazing personal and spiritual growth in previous years.  The ministry areas in which I had served before felt dry and forced, like I was trying to fit a square peg in a round hole.

In January 2010, I embarked on a journey to figure out where I belonged. Was it merely that I needed a temporary break from New Life?  Did I just need to go through a time of recovery and healing after all that had transpired in that church?  Or was it time to join a new body of believers?  The latter thought was almost more than I could fathom at the time.  I was burned out from several intense years of serving in small groups, youth ministry, and missions teams, and it felt refreshing to go forth with a clean slate. 

However, I became a spiritual nomad.  Every weekend I was faced with the frustrating decision of where to go to church that Sunday. What should have felt liberating made me feel even more alone and disconnected.  Typically, I would default to visiting The Springs Church, a new church plant that consists primarily of ex-New Lifers.  Because of this, it was familiar to me, almost as if I were attending a version of New Life the way it used to be.  Several of my friends were regular attendees there, so I didn't feel like a complete stranger.  

Around the time I took my hiatus from New Life, I also left a small group I had been in for almost two years. Due to one of my friends nudging me, I got involved in a small group through The Springs Church. I had been craving something that had spiritual depth -- something that I could really sink my teeth in. This group, an in-depth Bible study on the Song of Solomon (not a topic I would have picked myself, but still good), presented just that. The content was so rich that I felt like I was sitting at a table full of delicious food, yet I was only able to nibble at it. As I left the group on Sunday nights, I would be inspired and ready to devote more time to prayer and to reading the Word. Yet by Monday evening, the momentum I had gained was decreasing rapidly. By Tuesday, it was much of same humdrum as before. 

Near the end of the small group, two friends and I ventured to Kansas City to spend some time at the International House of Prayer (IHOP).  All of us hoped that we would return to Colorado Springs refreshed and spiritually renewed after a weekend of experiencing God. It did, in fact, change me -- but with nothing having changed at home, I couldn't seem to sustain that passion for God.  Summertime consisted of going through Beth Moore's Esther Bible study with several friends -- it was a good way to stay "on track" during what is usually a season in which small groups take a break. 

It was around the beginning of the summer when I attended a concert at New Life and spent half of it in the bathroom crying because I realized it was no longer my church home. I hadn't felt a strong urge from the Lord to make The Springs Church my new home, but I liked it so far and I needed to plug in somewhere.  I went through their small group training and took a membership class with hopes to get connected and start serving again.  

My few vain attempts to commit to something fell through, and I got distracted by a number of different things going on.  I didn't join a new small group because I couldn't find one that fit. I wasn't sure if I was ready to take on youth ministry again or to do altar ministry.  I have a feeling that sometime in the past year or two I've become fearful of committing to ministry and then getting burned out -- it was daunting just to think about moving forward.

My lack of commitment may or may not have been divinely timed, as another variable caused me to wonder if I would continue going to The Springs Church on a long-term basis. Andy and I started dating a few months ago, and since he attends Boulder Street Church, it crossed my mind that I might eventually attend there also. It was a challenging autumn in that I felt even more disconnected and uncertain of things than ever.  

The encouraging part is, sometimes you have to go through a really dry time like this to be able to transition into a new place.  I'm at the point of desperation -- for God's presence, for spiritual growth, for community -- that motivates me to move forward. I have no idea what I am doing or how I am going to get there. At this point, I am willing to push myself out of my comfort zone to try new things.  I only pray that God will meet me there and do what I cannot do myself -- get me out of this spiritual rut and plant a vision in my heart for the future. It may not look like anything from the past, but if He is with me, I am confident that it will be good. 

After a lot of prayer and pondering, I've decided to go to Boulder Street.  In a couple of days, I am going to start attending a small group, and I am going to continue to pray that God leads me to the right avenues of ministry in His perfect timing.  It's not fun being a spiritual nomad -- we weren't designed to be that way -- but I trust this journey has been for a reason.  Perhaps only time will tell.