Moving back to New Jersey after graduating from college was one of the hardest things that I had to go through in my life. After my mom died during my freshman year of college, Virginia became home for me. It was where I healed and met Jesus and lived in deep community. Most of my college friends stayed in Virginia, and those that didn't moved to even farther places like Tennessee and Kentucky while I crossed the Mason-Dixon line once again. I spent the better half of my first year in New Jersey praying for friends and feeling lonely. Making friends in the real world is much more difficult than as a college student, and even making friends in the local church is much more challenging than making friends as an InterVarsity student. I was learning that in the real world, people have very limited time to hang out, and so it takes months and months to finally feel like you know somebody. As an InterVarsity student, my life was filled with instant best friends every semester and guaranteed groups of people to eat every meal with. Being an InterVarsity student meant automatic koinonia [that rich, deep fellowship that Scripture references in Acts 2], with little or no effort at all.
Moving far away meant I had that community void to fill and as an extrovert, this process seemed to take forever. A lot of tears were shed and a lot of emotional outbursts to God occurred over craving that missing koinonia.
I'm not exactly sure how it happened, but at some point this year, koinonia became a reality once again for me. But this time, it was so much deeper and richer than what I had in college.
Let me try and explain myself, before I come off as offensive to my dear college friends.
In college, you live intimately with one another. You are experiencing the same life transitions and for us as InterVarsity students, the highs and lows of doing ministry together. You have common goals and interests and maturity levels. In college you live in a bubble of people all within four years of your age and of similar economic statuses and intellectual abilities. In my opinion, to have some type of like-minded community like this is vital. But it's not complete.
Don't mistake what I'm saying. I still have those friendships. There is a group of us that still update each other regularly on our lives and ask for prayer requests. There are some friends that I still talk to weekly or bi-weekly on the phone or on FaceTime (and actually I have a friend that I talk to daily...). This love and intimacy still exist through the world of technology and social media, even if we're states apart.
But what that community lacked was diversity.
My college friends are some of my [hopefully!] life-long best friends. I hold them so very near and dear to my heart. Nothing will ever replace my relationships with any of them. But my koinonia has gotten bigger since leaving Building 10 of the UMW Apartments. My koinonia consists of friends that feel like a full and complete family. I have a spiritual mom and dad, aunts and uncles, older and younger siblings, and sisters that feel much like the same age as me.
The body of Christ, as it was meant to be, was incomplete in college. It only consisted of siblings the same age as me, which while necessary and fun and amazing, lacked completeness.
Entering into a relationship with Jesus means you enter into God's family (Ephesians 1:5). This means that this spiritual family that I speak of isn't some daydreamy concept. It's real. These are people I've laughed with, cried with, been admonished by, and offered my own challenges to. The mothers and fathers and aunts and uncles offer their wisdom in the Lord and love and challenge us at the same time. They care for us young ones in such tangible ways like home cooked meals and offering to pay for dinners out. The older siblings offer much of the same things, in their humble I'm-still-just-starting-this-journey-too type of way and affirm us in the ways we've grown--like good older sisters do. I tease the littles with love and wrestle them in the pool, just like any sibling would, and offer up my own wisdom when the timing is right. We function just like members of any blood-family function, but the thing that ties us together isn't our blood--it's His blood. I'm blessed because I have a very large family--some that are legally related to me and some that feel just like family because we are adopted sons and daughters of the King. My spiritual family doesn't replace my blood-family, it just adds to it. And blesses me with a plethora of people that love and care for me.
Being in the family of God, my definition has been expanded. Family is a friend dancing into your house singing happy birthday as she hands you one of her huge original canvas pieces of artwork (that probably costs hundreds of dollars) as a gift because she remembered you being awestruck by it at her art show. Family is going to visit a friend and her turning on her computer to watch a show while you read a book because well, it didn't matter if the conversation ceased for an hour. It was just important to be there, together. Family is spending an evening in silence when you both study Scripture and take breaks to tell each other what Jesus was saying to you. Family is a spiritual dad telling you he's proud of you and a spiritual aunt decorating your house with birthday balloons while you were at work. Family is you feeding your spiritual older sister's baby for 7 hours upside down during a car ride while she blasted the Dixie Chicks to "make everything better." Family is a spiritual mom hugging you tight, even when you act uninterested, because she knows what makes you feel deeply loved and knowing exactly what to pray for you, even when you don't ask for a prayer request. Family is laughing until you can't breathe and letting the tears come when things feel heavy. When you are in the body of Christ, the definition of family suddenly gets extended and an influx of people are added to the one you were born into.
As I've been celebrating these relationships over the past couple of weeks, I've paid attention to some of these friends' eyes and what I saw astounded me: They all had the same look. One pair of eyes sat in the dark on my patio with me and reminisced about how we met. One looked over at me during a pretty heavy conversation on a long road trip. A few pairs peek at me Friday evenings at home fellowship and Tuesdays during the Truth Project. These eyes all have that glazed over look with that far away twinkle; the one that says without words, "I love you. And you're important to me. And I'm so glad the Lord has brought you into my life." The most profound time I've encountered that look in a friend's eyes was yesterday over some froyo and in between roars of laughter. In that moment, her expression spoke deeper into my soul than any amount of words could that I was deeply cared for and loved.
That look that these friends give me is one I carry with me every day because it's so authentic and unable to be faked. It's one that I imagine Jesus gave to every person He encountered while living on earth.
It's a look that expresses the richest koinonia.
Some of my friends live close by and some live far. Some are in their 50s and some are in the single digits. Some have the same profession as me and some don't.
But all of them love me. And challenge me. And care for me. And pray for me. All of them stare back at me with that same expression in their eyes.
I've grown a lot this year in my walk with Christ, and some of that is thanks to all of these people that make up my church family. This variety of people has added to me being stretched and has helped transform me over this past year.
While I've been aware of these rich relationships for awhile now, it wasn't until recently when I could fully say that I would have it no other way. As much as I miss pieces of college, I would never trade living in that college bubble for the richness that I have in the local church. I may not be living with 100 of my best friends that are all my age, but being intimately connected with people older, younger, and of the same age as me is infinitely better. Recently I contemplated switching small groups from the mixed ages one I attend now to one for only young adults and I couldn't bare the thought!
And so I'm celebrating that! I'm celebrating being in a place of deep friendships that I wouldn't change for the world. I'm celebrating no longer grieving college. I'm celebrating koinonia.
Hanging with you is always wonderful. Thanks, friend!
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