When I moved back to the suburbs six years ago, I mourned the loss of the ministry for which I’d been preparing, namely church-planting in Italy.
I mean, come on. I was headed for Trieste, Italy and landed in a Dallas suburb. The grieving period was necessary and long.
Two things happened before I could fully embrace ministry in the burbs: First, I had to accept that God could and will redeem the suburbs. Romans 8 says that all creation groans for our future glorification. I had to listen to hear I wasn’t the only one groaning in my neck of the woods. Second, I had to be joyful in this circumstance. When we think of contentment, we often think of endurance or dealing with the circumstance despite our preferences. But I think Paul had a fuller picture in mind. He tells us to rejoice always.
Can I rejoice in the suburbs?
The question goes against the romantic picture of an artist, who should either be out in the woods somewhere or in some closet apartment he can’t afford in New York. An artist in the burbs? She simply doesn’t exist. An artist can conceivably be born in suburbia, but she ought to move out, according to the popular artist story, on her eighteenth birthday.
But why can’t I be an artist where I am? Why can’t I write stories that reflect the angst, stress, and loneliness of the typical suburbian dweller? Why should I let popular images from Hollywood and New York dictate my art? (Here’s where my rebel-without-a-cause nature, as my husband calls it, comes in handy.) Art reflects life, and life is lived in the suburbs as well as in the rural and urban areas. The more I get to to know the people in my neighborhood, the more I find people with lived-out dreams, hidden desires, hurts, and triumphs. It’s not all Stepford Wives here, but you have to dig beneath the stereotypes to discover that.
So I’ve found community here and life rich with potential. Which brings me back around to God’s kingdom work in suburbia and, specifically, how I can live out his mission here.
The Bible gives us several pictures of redemption, or, to put it another way, of Christ’s victory over sin and death. It affects the individual and the community, the physical and the spiritual, the country, the city, and the suburbs. In Revelation, we see the presence of God descending upon earth, bringing with it the fullness of healing, peace and joy. The nations react with worship and reconciled living. In Ephesians, we glimpse a communal life that embraces diversity and unity. James gives us the contrary–a warning to rich hoarders, gossipers, and slanderers, in other words, those who cause division.
From these cues, I can form a life that embodies these elements in the suburbs by building community, offering healing to those hurting, encouraging and embracing diversity, and living generously.
Which means it comes down to making choices toward these things and away from other things, like inviting my neighbors to a backyard barbecue instead of only inviting the friends I already have, getting to know the couple down the street who immigrated from Russia or Korea or South Africa, volunteering at my library’s ESL program, taking cookies to my neighbors, refusing to keep up with the Jones’s and instead enjoying (and sharing) the material possessions God’s given us, being aware of where my clothes, technology, and water comes from and making decisions based on that, supporting local restaurants and arts rather than driving into Dallas for a date night, shopping at my local farmer’s market and dairy farm even if that means several trips to buy everything on my grocery list, going to events where I might be the minority, such as an Asian festival at the local Chinese church, serving at the orphanage down the street or at the new homeless program.
These are not without disappointment. How many cookies and breads have I taken unacknowledged? How many invitations have I issued unheeded? I may never have a great ministry story like urban monastic life. I may never have the glamorous life of ministering to artists in Brooklyn. But God has called me to minister where I live, despite the opportunity (or lack thereof) for a spotlight in Christianity Today.
As I get to know those around me, I can hear their groanings–their longings and hurts, their loneliness and angst, their hopes and dreams. And perhaps one day, I’ll see a beautiful community emerge to overcome the pain and live out the hopes.
