For months, the concept of Christ’s Body, the Church has been percolating in my mind. As I’ve mulled over this odd piece of Christian theology, God has been gradually unveiling both his teaching on the subject as well as its tangible reality within my church. For most of my life, I’ve been a bit of a loner when it came to the “touchy-feely” stuff. When my bipolar disorder flared, and through its refining fire God brought me back to his family, many of my barriers to intimacy lay in ashes. Don’t get me wrong – I was not instantly transformed from a superficial and guarded woman to a person reciting Psalms and her journal entries in church. No, I remember raging at God for destroying my ability to regulate and compartmentalize my emotions. The first time I started crying in a store for no reason was infuriating.

Still, after losing my career, my friends, my hobbies, and even control over my own mind, I had nothing left to talk about except the raw stories and feelings that were uncovered when the rest was stripped away. Yet for years after my baptism, I kept those experiences to myself. I was attending my parents’ church, but I was no part of any Body. I’m sure many, if not most, of that church’s members were good people. They were friendly and even occasionally tried to draw me in to some ministry; however, no one ever asked about the daily suffering that was my life. Why would I offer my story to people who would rather not know? I don’t remember exactly what my thoughts were concerning church in general, but my actual days were a mix of isolation, loneliness, and “I guess this is just how it is.” All my energy was going toward surviving, anyway.

In 2017, the glow of both hope and recovery began to creep into my heart. A Californian all my life, I moved with my parents to Tennessee in 2016. I was still quite ill during my first year here, but in 2017, I began attending SB Church with my parents. It was always meant to be a stopgap for me. As a disabled, politically liberal, part Mexican, single woman, I didn’t think there was any way God would keep me in an upper class, almost entirely white church full of “Hallmark card” families. Thankfully (though it took me years to realize it), I was wrong; six years later and I’m not only still at SBC, but I thank God every day that I am.

One of my favorite “new” music finds played while I was on the elliptical today: Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors’ Find Your People. It’s a song about companionship, trust, and the people who hold you up. Up until today, I’d always thought of it as a song about friendship, but this morning, with thoughts of the Body of Christ bouncing around my brain, I realized that it doesn’t have to be. (Disclaimer: I’m in no way commenting on the authors’ intentions.) See, lately I’ve been trying to dismiss the recurring thought in my head, I have no friends, I’m alone. True, I have no travel buddies or pedicure “dates,” and my hobbies tend to be solitary activities. But is it those kinds of things that define a friend? If so, why do I spend a few minutes here and there wishing for them, but hours thanking God for my fellow churchgoers? Like they tend to do, a breakthrough came when my oxygen-starved brain was pleasantly empty and the music was turned up loud.

Most of the lyrics of Find Your People suggest that this man’s “people” have much in common with him. They get the inside jokes, they love the same music, and they understand each other’s situations. It sounds great – I want that, too! Still, I look at the percentage of time I spend thinking about, spending time with, and praying for the people from my church, and I wouldn’t sacrifice any of it for one new friend. Sure, I may not be able to share my massive playlists with much of the church, and sadly, I’ve yet to find someone who will discuss everything The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit movies got wrong. But this is a good thing. The apostle Paul tells us Christ’s Body would collapse and serve no function if each of us individual members were carbon copies of each other.

One line of Find Your People initially snagged my attention this morning: You gotta find your people, then you’ll find yourself. No, I thought, you find yourself when you find Jesus Christ! It took me some time to work it out, although in my defense, my heart rate was 140 and I could barely breathe. When you accept the Lord, yes, you find the deepest part of yourself, but you also find a family. Without these people – my people – much of my brain, heart, and faith would still be a mystery to me. Sure, most of my church does not get my jokes, but, in all their magnificent diversity, they are able to come alongside me no matter my situation.

So, here we are, a body powered and empowered by the Lord. What is his purpose for us? First – always first – we are bound together and attached to Christ in order to worship and exalt the Father, as we were created to do. We are to love the Lord with all our hearts, our souls, our minds, and our strength. But what else? To have a massive variety of food at picnics? To physically and emotionally care for widows and orphans? Or is it just to get together to throw sticks into the fire pit and contemplate life? Of course!

I have times when I wish someone would teach me to shoot a bow and arrow or search the thrift shops with me for bizarre t-shirts. But I am aware and grateful all the time for the members of my church. I praise God for bringing me to people who visited me, the quiet child of new church members, in the hospital, when no one had done so for over eight years. I smile and feel a warmth inside my chest every time I look at the beautiful pottery teapot my Bible study ladies gave me at the only surprise party I’ve ever had. I laughed when the deacons included me, 40 years old and never married, on the email list offering help to our widows. Just yesterday, “my” elder asked what I would like him to pray about during tonight’s elder meeting. I know the man. I love the man. But he is not my friend. So, what is it about Christ’s Church that makes the importance of worldly friendship pale? I believe it is because we, followers of the One God, have a far bigger and brighter definition of “our people” than the world does. After all, who wants just a friend when he can have a brother?

*One caveat: I purposely excluded my mom in my musings on whether I have friends or not. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom – you are the perfect example of “my people”: family, sister, advocate, and best friend.