Mine

There are a whole lot of things in the world I call mine.

I have a car, a room, a family, a job (sometimes I don't claim it), and a Savior, just to name a few.  One thing I have had a hard time calling "mine" in my lifetime has been a church.  I grew up in a church that my grandfather preached in.  Inherently, that was the church we as a family attended on Sunday.  There weren't a whole lot of kids my age there, and as we grew up, there were even less that cared about coming to church for the purpose of spiritual growth, and more that showed up because their parents managed to drag them out of bed for some empty promise of a buffet at Pizza Ranch after the service.  This was extremely hard for me.  I grew apart from my youth group; mostly because there were no kids my age that attended, but also because the kids that did attend were very in tune with growing socially, and not so much spiritually.  I went to college and kind of had a hard time finding a church.  I went to a few--Celebrate, Oak Hills--that seemed alright, but didn't really feel like "mine".  I'm a firm believer that if you are meant to be at a church, that God is going to let you know in lightning fashion.  I got extremely discouraged.

Recently, thanks to one amazing individual, I started attending The Ransom on a regular basis.  Automatically, this church felt like it was mine.  In that building, God moves in ways I cannot explain.  The pastors are not concerned with what people want to hear.  Rather, they are concerned with what people NEED to hear.  It's a bit intimidating sometimes though, knowing that you're walking into a place where, sans the pastor saying your name out loud, you're going to be called out.  However, even with that happening, I have never been more comfortable being called out in my entire life.