Shared Experiences Create Sanctuary.

There is something so holy about shared experiences. The past week has shown me this countless times. I spent the last week in Sydney, Australia on retreat with my country cohort, country coordinators, and their two children. The week was filled with laughter, serious conversations, and a bit of site seeing; but the most important part for me was reflecting on our shared experiences.

This reflection came in all different shapes and sizes. It started with discussions about our childhoods and how they were all similar even though we all grew up in different parts of the United States. From our mutual love of the Jonas Brothers which lead to us watching their documentary during free time, to debates on which TV channel from our childhood was better: Nickelodeon, Disney, or Cartoon Network (obviously Nickelodeon). Eventually, we started to discuss present day and the struggles and celebrations of our experiences as YAGM Australia.

I have been struggling during the few weeks leading up to retreat with thinking that I am the only person who could possibly be feeling the way that I am feeling. Logically, I know this isn’t true, but my mind has a funny way of throwing logic and reason out the window and getting into a spiral of anxiety. Reuniting with my cohort couldn’t have come at a better time. The first night the four of us were together, we started to name a few of our struggles and it was like we were inside each other’s minds. Obviously we all have unique circumstances because we are in different communities and doing different work, but the themes and ideas were almost identical throughout every story that was shared. During this initial time together I felt seen in a way that I didn’t know I was desperately craving the weeks prior.

Now, this is not to say that my community has not supported me through every up and down I have had over the past few months. I have been cared for so unbelievably well. Like almost too well, I don’t know how they do it. It is just such a wonderful gift to be with people that don’t just empathize with you, they know exactly what you are going through because they are experiencing it as well.

This gift was one that continued all the way through retreat. It took the form of storytelling, hard conversations surrounding race, power, and privilege, study of Australian history, and devotions. It’s hard for me to describe just how impactful this time was, but this poem written by Jan Richardson does a wonderful job. Kim, one of our country coordinators shared this poem with us at the very end of closing worship. Before you read it, I want to share with you what our worship space looked like, because I think it adds a layer of depth to the words.

The six of us were seated at a dining room table, which was situated in a small living room inside our rental home that smelled like dust. We had just shared communion with one another, so there was a small plate with half a roll and a glass of red wine in the center of the table. It wasn’t fancy. We didn’t have candles and all the hymns were sung a cappella by a group of people who claim they can’t sing. But it was a Sanctuary. A place where we gathered together as our full, broken, beautiful selves and reflected God to one another. And it brought me to tears.

A Blessing Called Sanctuary

You hardly knew
how hungry you were
to be gathered in,
to receive the welcome
that invited you to enter
entirely—
nothing of you
found foreign or strange,
nothing of your life
that you were asked
to leave behind
or to carry in silence
or in shame.

Tentative steps
became settling in,
leaning into the blessing
that enfolded you,
taking your place
in the circle
that stunned you
with its unimagined grace.

You began to breathe again,
to move without fear,
to speak with abandon
the words you carried
in your bones,
that echoed in your being.

You learned to sing.

But the deal with this blessing
is that it will not leave you alone,
will not let you linger
in safety,
in stasis.

The time will come
when this blessing
will ask you to leave,
not because it has tired of you
but because it desires for you
to become the sanctuary
that you have found—
to speak your word
into the world,
to tell what you have heard
with your own ears,
seen with your own eyes,
known in your own heart:

that you are beloved,
precious child of God,
beautiful to behold,
and you are welcome
and more than welcome
here.

—Jan Richardson
from Circle of Grace

Peace,

Katie.