Monday nights are great because I have a women’s group at my house. We were all strangers when we started meeting in September. We’ve added a few since then, and a few have moved on to other groups. But we’ve grown together. One night we’re discussing a broken relationship, and there are tears in our eyes. Another night we’re laughing hysterically at Minute to Win It games. Another, we’re having an in-depth conversation on baptism after reading John 3.
The thing that makes it so refreshing is that we’re all living authentically, sharing our good and bad sides. They get to see my messy house, dog toys strewn about. They get to see my scattered brain at the end of a crazy Monday at work. They also see my tears. And my struggles. And my heart for God’s Word. And how much I love to laugh. And it seems like that’s what matters.
Then they open up about their relationships and their doubts about church and their struggles with the Bible. They’re eager to learn, and they want to know more about God and about the Bible and about what all of this means for real life. And they aren’t afraid to ask hard questions like, “What does this say about living with my boyfriend?” and “So is it bad to drink?” and “But what do I do when I’m really really angry?”
They aren’t afraid to ask for clarification or wonder aloud what in the world Jesus meant or say, “What should I do?” We’ve got married people and single people and divorced people and remarried people and people who have kids and people who can’t get pregnant and people who love dogs and people who are allergic to them.
We get together and laugh and cry and pray and learn and try to figure out how to live life the way God intended for us. And we give hugs and meet new boyfriends and go grab Kleenex and fight over whether to bring chocolate cookies or veggies and dip. We’re learning and growing and trying to figure one another out and ourselves out and our relationships out . . . and it’s beautiful and messy and imperfect all at the same time. And I love it.