The Gypsy Child Lands in a Soft and Safe Place

Conclusion of this story series …


Present.
Quest Community Church.
Lexington, Kentucky.


I am 44.


I have found a church home. I have found a community of people who share the same goal – to become wholehearted followers of Christ.


This goal permeates the place where we worship: Everywhere you look, volunteers are serving – greeting people warmly, caring for children while parents are busy hearing the Word, serving coffee to newcomers, singing praises and leading the rest of us in glorious worship.


What does it mean to you to be in a community?


As I look back at the years of the Gypsy Child’s journey, I can tell you what it means to me.


It means being surrounded by people who can support you and pray for you when you work daily in a Christ-hostile environment. These people can be your lifeline to stay strong in the midst of temptation. They can warn you when they see your weaknesses and prop you up when you fail. They can wrap arms around you on Jesus’s behalf when you really want a hug from Him. They can hear your story, accept you regardless of what you’ve done and love you because He loves you.


If anyone is a poster child for reasons we need community, I am. All you have to do is look at where I’ve been and the choices I made when I didn’t have a community – when I was on the end of a branch hanging with my fingernails. I made it work for a while by myself, but eventually, it did all catch up with me. I needed community. We can only go through so much temptation and hardship alone before we fall.


That said, I don’t want to present the idea that I have this all figured out. I don’t – not by a long shot.

I still struggle with allowing people into my life. I did things alone for so long, that I can be prideful, thinking that I don’t need them.


Sometimes I tell myself, “I have been through so much that I can do more for other people than they can do for me. I can be there for others, but I shouldn’t expect others to shoulder my burdens. They wouldn’t understand. They haven’t experienced the pain I have, so I’ll just deal with it alone with God.”


I shrink from allowing myself to be completely vulnerable. Instead of focusing on my past good experiences – like the women at Fort Bragg who helped me when I was pregnant or the people from my Lutheran church in Georgia who rallied around me when I was sick – I focus on the bad. I think about church people who let me down when I was struggling so hard to fit in and belong as a single person. I allow these memories to cloud the truth that I DO need others.


Then, as I struggle with these opposing feelings, something amazing will happen. I’ll be contacted by someone in my new community. They’ll tell me how much I am loved. They’ll share with me their concerns about my spiritual welfare and warfare. They’ll provide wisdom and insight on a problem I am having.


They’ll pray for me.


They’ll be my friend.


They’ll stand in the sandals of Jesus on His behalf and say, “Hey, I’m here for you. You don’t have to do this alone. I’m willing to help out and be His emissary for you if only you’ll let me.”


This is the Christian Safehouse. Here we can share our difficulties. If you’re not in a church where you can get this kind of support, I want you to know … I’m here for you. I’ll talk to you anytime you want. If I don’t know an answer, I’ll find someone who will. And I’ll take all of your concerns to His throne and ask on your behalf for His intervention in your life.


Are you a part of a community? If you’re not, look at the Gypsy Child’s story as a warning. You don’t want to become me.


Allow yourself to be vulnerable.


Allow yourself to be loved by others who love Him, too.