For some time now I've unabashedly declared that I don't like churches. Intellectually I rarely receive much there (that is, in a sermon), and the only real reason I attend (when I do) is for fellowship and communal worship - which is distinctly different from solo worship. Lately (over the past two years or so), I've withdrawn from churches - both the one I attend in Omaha (my "home" church), which has changed substantially as those I knew leave (as I have) and are replaced by those I do not know, and the one I attend (well, *used* to attend) in Longview, which I never fully adopted as a community to begin with. So, now, as I attend again for the first time in quite a while, I'm pondering the nature of a church "community". And I think it has something to do with the ponds.
A church community - and the security and comfort it provides - is a small pond. But it's not the sort of small pond that is impossible to return to after having been in the big lake (or ocean, or whatever); it's simply an example of a time when focus and immersion allow one to join - well, the commoners - and enjoy the benefits of small pond gaiety without *really* giving up any of the ... differences... of the big pond.