Categories: uncategorized
Date: 13 May 2008 23:04:38
Apologies for the lack of blogging since my new computer arrived. I've had a fairly busy week, and when I've not been busy I just haven't known what to write, so I haven't written anything.
Tonight I'm thinking about my cell group, the people in it, and the people I've left behind. You see, our cell group split a month ago; not in a falling-out kind of way, you understand, but in that the whole ethos behind the cell group structure is that when the group grows to a point where you feel it's too big, then it's time to split. And that's the point we've reached over the last six months or so.
I'd been in my old cell ever since it started, at the beginning of 2004, just a couple of months after I pitched up here. In that time it has been small, large, noisy, quiet, uncontrolable, passionate, painful, inspiring, encouraging, challenging and, most often, pants-wettingly funny. Many people have come and gone, but the spirit of the group has never changed - loving and serving God, building each other up, and having good times of fellowship and study together.
Over the course of 2007, the group swelled in numbers; by the end of the year we had about 15 people coming regularly, and since the start of this year even more people have joined. Which not only makes it difficult for everyone to feel their contribution is acknowledged, but is also just physically inconvenient in a very small lounge (our hosts had started unscrewing the lounge door from its hinges each week, as the door opened into the room and it was difficult for people to get out if they needed to get a drink or go to the loo or whatever if there were people sitting in front of it because every other bit of space in the room was being used). So it was announced that cell would be "multiplying" (we're not supposed to call it splitting, as that makes us sound like the Judean People's Front) and that the intention was that about a third of us would go off into the new cell. We were all asked to think and pray about which group we felt we wanted to go in, and I knew straight away that God was leading me to the new group.
The first month has been really good, and I've loved having the chance to get to know my "new" cell (most of them being people I've been in my old cell with for two or three years already) a bit better. But I've realised that I'm missing getting to spend so much time with some of the people who have stayed in the old cell who I've built up strong friendships with over the last few years. Yes, sometimes we still meet up and hang out and see each other at social things, and of course at church itself, but it's still been weird.
Now comes the other part of all this. Apart from the leaders of the old group, the only person who's been there since it started (now that I've left) is my friend Pete. And in a few weeks' time Pete is moving to London for work reasons too confusing to go into here. It's definitely God's will and we're all very excited for him, and yet I feel like I'm missing him already. I've had many good times hanging out with Pete, and he's given me lots of very wise and helpful advice when I've had issues to deal with. Not seeing him around will be very strange indeed.
And then I found out the other night that another friend from the old cell, Dave, is taking the opportunity to go to London in about a month's time. Initially he's planning to go for three months, and then depending on how things are going he'll either stay there or come back here. I suspect the former, but from a really selfish point of view I kind of hope the latter. Dave's honesty and openness are refreshing, and he's one of the funniest and most easygoing people I know. But this is a great opportunity for him to pursue his dreams, and challenge himself, and I think he needs that. That won't mean I won't miss him though.
And so it goes. The new cell is coming together with the excitement of fresh growth; while old friends are moving on to pastures new, their own fresh growth. Things start, and things end. It's like the circle of life.
Hakuna, and for that matter, matata.