About 1 minute
Dear Ray,
What I remember from Santa Barbara is not mainly a meeting pattern. I remember waking to roommates singing praises. I remember breakfasts with families and children nearby. I remember brothers praying and singing before practical matters were discussed.
I remember fellowship moving through living rooms, kitchens, parks, streets, cars, beaches, and ordinary meals. Baptisms could happen publicly. Someone arriving could be met like family. The meetings seemed to rise out of a life already being shared.
I know memory can make the past look more perfect than it was. There were weaknesses and immaturity. But I tasted something organic: Christ passing between people who were available to one another.
I do not think we can copy that time. Open homes, shared meals, and familiar ways of gathering cannot produce what we tasted. The source was Christ. What I long for now is Zoe flowing through His members, His life becoming our living together.
Your brother,
Brent
For brief explanations of terms I use in these letters, see Words in These Letters.
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The Difficulty of Beginning Again
Must You Become Like Us to Belong?
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