When I first set foot in Lakewood, I had every bit of hesitancy one can have. I knew that I had left the search for a church home on the back burner for too long, but when you don't truly understand what you're missing from church life, there's not enough cognitive dissonance to really push you out more. Those first, early forrays into the search for a church were as uncomfortable and awkward as it gets. Hardly the stuff that fuels the fire to keep searching. But when you see the people of Lakewood, it's easy to see that everyone is welcome. Among my first signposts was a poorly dressed older man who, for all I know, came in off the street. I knew if this guy was welcome here, then I'd be ok. Who knows, maybe he felt the same when he saw me. But the point was that this wasn't the type of church where every Sunday was a dressup contest ... it was a come-as-you-are church. It was friendly, without being overbearing. It's big enough that, if you wanted to hide somewhere on the back rows, you could. But it gets sufficiently small when you're in a class of about 30 or so ... or at a table of 8 ... and you meet some of the best friends you can hope to find. It's populous enough that I've run into friends and acquaintances on the way to work or at the bookstore. Just this past weekend, I had a young couple sit next to me and tell me know they'd seen me for months in the same general area they sit in, but just hadn't introduced themselves before. In short, Lakewood offers fellowship at it's best. There are great friends there just waiting for the opportunity to meet you.

Inevitably, there comes a point in time when you're no longer the new guy and you become a veteran. I'm not sure precisely where that point is, but I know I've passed it. Little signs along the way bear that out - learning the quasi-sign language used by ushers to make their job easier; recognizing that look in the eyes of new visitors and offering a welcome; catching up with someone you haven't talked to for a few weeks; realizing you're the longest-tenured church member at your Compass table; recognizing that you're one of the longest-tenured members at a Compass Class; having an in-depth conversation with someone about a sermon that was given over a month ago; or just being conned into facilitating a table at Koinonia ... and finding it to be far easier than once feared.

But what it really says is that you've found "home." And for that, I thank everyone I've come in contact with over the past year. You all represent the Body of Christ wonderfully ... even if you clap out of time.