Late Sunday night I emailed my friend about a tense conversation I’m having with Jesus.

Which is this in a nutshell:

I’m begging him for community and purpose and calling.

He keeps telling me,  “wait”, “trust”, and “peace be still”

And I’m like, “Seriously?!?! We’re doing the cryptic Christ thing again?”

I went on to tell her that I’m struggling in this early stage of church planting where I’m forming a tribe of believers here in Boston but feeling so isolated.  I told her that I wanted to connect with women on a broader, more global scale but wasn’t sure how to do that.  I told her I feel like an outsider on the inside because I’m falling in love with certain view and convictions.

“Please pray for me tomorrow”, I asked her.  I planed to spend the next day aimlessly wandering an apple orchard hoping Jesus will meet me between the Macintosh and Cortland trees.

Because although he’s Boss at infuriating me, I’m like Simon Peter, “”Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

And when she replied, “yes, yes, yes…I’m feeling tribeless too!”

I suspected this relational ennui, this angst to find meaningful connection, this fire in my bones to encourage and gather women who love them some Neo-Anabaptist theology in one place, was maybe from the Lord.  Maybe I’m not the only woman who listens to Bruxy Cavey and Greg Boyd while folding laundry or on the playground?  Maybe 31 days of opening up the doors of my blog and calling out, “Shalom Sistahs, can you come out to play?” will help gather and identify my tribe.

So the next day, I drove forty-five minutes in the fog, paid for a yellow plastic gathering bag for my peck of apples, indulged in two apple cider donuts and stood at the gates of the orchard.  Ready for words of eternal life.

But first, I set  “Simple Gifts” to repeat on my Spotify playlist  (because honestly, what’s says pious prayer walk in on a crisp fall New England morning  than an 1800 Shaker hymns?).

On my walk I mediated on these questions:

1:  Who are am I?  What do I get excited about?  What made so Honey Badger Mama Angry?

2:  Where are my fellow tribeswomen with similar convictions and interests?

And like always, my Crazy Beautiful Jesus showed up amidst the rotting apples and drew drenched leaves. 

I’m linking up with to write shorts posts everyday on finding my (Anabaptist) tribe. These 31 days I’ll be sharing what I learned in the orchard in this  series, “Finding my Tribe:  A Thirty One Days series”.

I’m going to start with my identity, calling, passions that line up with Anabaptist teachings, then share some examples of women in the Bible who are my tribeswomen.

I’ll introduce you to fellow bloggers who I sometimes wonder, “did she take a peak at my blog planner today?”.

I’ll dig a bit deeper in to the “Reknew Manifesto” and discuss my love for the Anabaptist tradition.

If the teachings of Jesus completely rock your world, you’re in for a treat, some of these days I’ll dive into my favorite moments of Jesus’ ministry and invite you to meditate on our Lord’s crazy courage with me.

On the weekends, I’ll post unifying liturgies because every tribe of believing women must find their role within the greater, more glorious Jesus Tribe.

When I shared this idea with my writing group, one of them said, “This sounds like such an adventure”.

Yep, an adventure it is.  So, don’t miss it!  Enter your address and get for it to get really real in you mailbox!

I’ll laugh, cry, explore, challenge, and hope as I begin to identify my tribe.

So, let’s start tomorrow with some wisdom from Paul on unity and diversity in the Body:  One church, Many tribes.

Finding my Tribe,