Recently, when I was reading the New English Bible translation, I noticed that where most other translations used the word fellowship, this Bible used the term “share a common life.”

I like that. To me, that’s what fellowship and community are all about– sharing life together. And not just the pretty parts. In community, we share the good, the bad, and the ugly (to borrow a Clint Eastwood movie title).

Life is too hard to do solo. God said that it’s not good for man to be alone. In the original context, He was referring to the institution of marriage, but it applies to all relationships. You are most vulnerable and prone to err when you’re alone and out of community.

Too many think that there is strength in hiding your scars and trying to carry your burden alone. They think asking for help or charity is weakness. I think it’s real strength when you say, “I can’t do this alone. Will you help me?”

I’m in a fantastic community group. Hopefully, we’ll all get comfortable enough with each other to be authentic and honest, presenting not our best selves but our true selves.

Healing comes when you take off the masks and name your scars, your fears, your failings, your wounds. And I still think that there are people out there who can find their healing thròugh your and my stories.

Mike Glenn always says you need comminity because the first person you lie to is yourself. You need people in your life to set you straight when you are less than honest about your struggles. You need people who will remind you of the words to the song in your heart when you’ve forgotten them.

For some odd reason, when I wrote my blog last night, I thought it was Thursday. Today is Thursday. I got that straightened out. Thas has nothing to do with anything, just thrown in for free.

i’m thankful for good community and friends and family who keep reminding me of what my best self looks like and keep encouraging me to keep striving toward Christlikeness. You guys are pretty much awesome in my book.

I really can’t believe you’re gone. I was certain that it was another Facebook hoax and that you were alive and planning that long-awaited sequel to Mrs. Doubtfire. 

Sadly, it was true. You fought demons that none of us knew about. Some might say you took the cowardly way out, but I don’t think so. I think sometimes those demons are too much for one person to face alone.

You taught me to seize the day. You reminded me that life can be sublimely ridiculous and gloriously insane at times. You entertained me from the days of Mork and Mindy all the way to your latest attempt at TV sitcom. You weren’t just funny. You were brilliant.

Little did any of us know the darkness you faced. You chose to fight alone, either from shame or pride or simply being unaware that you didn’t have to be alone.

I don’t for one moment think that suicide disqualifies anyone from the grace of God. I don’t believe for a solitary second that taking your own life is a sin that sends you straight to hell. Ruth Bell Graham once said that when a child of God takes their own life, God may not have called them home but He welcomes them home all the same.

I don’t know if you knew Jesus. Maybe if someone had told you, you might have chosen a different way out. Then again, believers are just as prone to depression and suicidal thoughts. Believers sometimes choose what they perceive to be the easy way out.

I hope and pray you found peace at least. I pray for all those who feel alone in their struggle that they will find someone to come alongside them and walk with them. 

This is Orson calling Mork. Nanu, nanu. Welcome home.

“The unexamined life is not worth living” (Socrates).

“One of the primary acts of the evangelistic believer is the arousal of curiosity among unbelievers leading to questions and faith sharing. Therefore, we need to become a godly, intriguing, socially adventurous, joyous presence in the lives of others. We need the impetus to propel us outward, into the lives of our neighbors, but also upward into deeper intimacy with Jesus” (Michael Frost).

That’s what attracted people to the early church. People saw their joy, their unflappable joy, that not even persecution and death could quench. They saw their love for each other and for the community. And people were drawn to that.

When people on the outside look at 21st century American believers, what do they see? Do they see all that we’re against? Or do they see us preaching one way and living another? Do they see any difference at all between them and us?

C. S. Lewis once wrote about how if only 10% of the world’s population exhibited true holiness, the rest would soon be converted.

By holiness, I don’t mean keeping rules or being moral. I don’t mean me looking down on you because you sin differently than I. It’s most certainly not condemning those sins that we don’t struggle with.

True holiness looks like Jesus. True discipleship means walking where Jesus walked, doing what He did, emulating His life and closely as possible, knowing not facts and figures about Him but truly knowing intimately the man Jesus.

Who am I investing in? Who am I discipling? Better yet, who is looking at my life and wanting to know why I’m so different? Why I have a peace and a joy and a hope that they don’t have?

I’m not drawn to miserable people. I’m certainly not drawn to negative people who always seem to criticize and belittle and run down others. I am drawn to people who have a zest for life, who aren’t afraid to be exactly themselves, who are gracious and kind with no regard of persons.

That’s who I want to be. I want to live a life worth questioning.

Do you ever have the fear that someone is going to find you out? That maybe someone will call your bluff and name you for the fake you feel that you are?

Maybe it will be someone will find out that you’ve been faking the whole adult thing and will send you back to 4th grade?

According to Psalm 139, God knows me better than I know myself. He knows when I’m real and when I’m play-acting. He knows when I’m afraid and pretending to be brave. He knows when I have absolutely no clue what I’m doing (which is most of the time).

He knows how many hairs are on my head. He knows my very inner thoughts. Yet He loves me. Still He loves me.

That is very comforting to me. The One who should have given up on me and rejected me and had nothing else to do with me ever again hasn’t. He still wants me. He still wants to use me. He doesn’t have me penciled in to His plans so that He can erase me when I screw up once too often. He’s got me tattooed on His own skin.

I think everybody has a fear that they will be found out and either fired, demoted, flunked, or just laughed at. But God, the very one who could very easily call your bluff, instead wants to call you His son. His daughter. His beloved.

That’s something to remember on this halfway point to the week.