This verb, hopping- it isn’t an intimidating or instantly off putting word. Plenty of words make me cringe: smear, pulp, chunky, bulbous, anyways, etc. There are plenty of times I use the word hopping, and it makes me feel kiddish and happy. Light. But when you put this unassuming word into the phrase “church hopping” I yell en guard and waggle my sword at your face. Let me be clear.

I HATE CHURCH HOPPING

I realize how spoiled I have been my whole life. Church has seldom been a struggle. I do not know WHY I didn’t realize how spoiled I was. I have heard people tell terrible stories about their experiences with churches. Maybe I assumed something was wrong with those people. Don’t judge me. Something is wrong with YOU. >: /

Sorry I acted out. AnyWAY. The point is, I don’t like going to other churches if I am not already rooted in my own. I realize, after four months of living here and church hopping, I do not make friends outside of church. I have acquaintances. I say hi to neighbors. I don’t have friends. People I can call for coffee and encouragement. People who say, “Hi. You are pretty. Why are you being dumb? I like your hair.” I need these sort of people- people willing to hold me accountable and compliment me after to make me feel a little better.

I need church. But so far, either the worship scares my curls to straighten, or the teachings are from the steps of brimstone, or the teachings consist of milk. I don’t need brimstone. I don’t need milk. I need church.

So, for any of you teetering on the idea of planting a solidly structured, sound teaching, humble worship, loving on my kids, and caring more about others than yourself sort of church in the greater Nampa area, shoot me a text. God is bigger than my pipe dream.