For as long as I can remember, I have been looking for a tribe, a group, a place, from the halls of Jr. high waiting to see if I made the spirit squad to staring at the walls of my public university wondering if anyone else was crazy enough to sign up for that 8AM lecture. I’m well past those moments of wonder but these last few weeks I’ve wrestled, struggled, and prayed through the tension of “Who are my people? Where is my tribe.”
That neediness has a lot to do with religion — a lot. After all, it’s not as if it makes any kind of sense, or anything; what else could it be that attracts people?