It's been a long time since I smiled and giggled myself to sleep.  When you have a best friend who happens to have created the universe (or all of them, if you're an M-theorist), life has an unexplainable giddiness to it - an exquisite element of joy that is comparable to nothing else.  Moments like these remind me that the heart of a child is what thrills Jesus, because that's how God created us.  He wants us to smile, laugh, and giggle with Him.

But I believe that's only part of the equation.  Since I moved away from home and entered college, and then moved on from college to full-time ministry, I've noticed there's one other element crucial to not only my sanity, but my joy.  I must be in communion with my King, but I must be in community with others.  I've grown to learn that the two compliment each other, they each sweeten the journey, this wonderful pursuit of Christ.

And it's not just me.  I've spoken to others in ministry, dear friends who struggle with the same.  Community.  I hear so much from the pulpit about my relationship with Jesus, how to refine it, to dig deeper, and to yearn for nothing but Him.  But... people.  Friends, soul mates.  Laughter, adventure, social interaction, community.  I need those too.  I need other people who are also in communion with Jesus, to learn from them, to glean from their experiences, and to offer my experiences to them.

On Wednesday night, I pulled into Bristol just in time to reach my home church for the annual Christmas dinner.  As I walked through the door, I saw hundreds of familiar faces.  I can't remember how many people I hugged, but it had to have been equal to the number of people who hugged me (some of you will get that later, just give it time).  I'm not talking about superficial hugs.  I'm talking about when your home-grown, good ol' boy associate pastor skips the handshake and squeezes you so tight that the sweet tea you just chugged gets expedited to your bladder.  I'm talking about a lead pastor that when he sees you, he almost knocks your food out of your hand as he hugs you and exclaims "what's up big daddy?! I didn't expect to see you here!"  The moment my expression even hinted I was looking for my mother, a host of hands from the back corner fly up in the air, welcoming me home from across the room, anxious to hug, catch up, and break bread together.  Community.  Blessed community.

All around the world, people are starved for this.  How could we be curious why Facebook and Twitter are growing so quickly?  One out of every six minutes spent online around the world is devoted to social networking.  Facebook accounts for 73% of the internet population in the U.S.  People are desperate for community, however it comes.

My good friend, Matt Chambers, recently wrote about community on his blog, ETHOSHIFT.  I pulled two verses I recalled from his post:

We are called to love one another, and spur each other to good works.
We are called to bear one another's burdens and restore one another from transgression.

My prayer for myself, my dear friends in Uganda, Matt and Jordana, and for the rest of you struggling to find community, is that in 2012, not only do we find it, but we latch onto it with everything we have.  We are called the body of Christ for a reason.  May we find peace and refuge in our Savior through the arms of our friends.

As the new year approaches, how will you find community?

Jonathan was one of our oldest Ugandan boys in the choir. He reminded me of myself in so many ways - he had an attitude. He had to be called out. If it was on his mind, he said it. He was mischievous. He had the same issues most American children have, his simply stood out more because of his personality. There is rarely a day that goes by that I don't miss that kid. All of them, actually.

One of Jonathan's speaking parts in the concert was Lamentations 3:21-23. He would walk up to the microphone, puff out his chest, and grin at me, trying not to laugh. In his Ugandan accent, he would recite:

"Yet this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning, great is Your faithfulness."

Sometimes I have those mornings where I literally want to lock my door and stay inside. Alone. No people. Not because I'm lazy or even tired, but because I feel beaten. It's as if Satan is sitting by my bed, waiting for me to open my eyes. When I do, he smiles, because he knows he is the first to have my attention. In spiteful fashion, he replays for me the previous days or weeks. Searching for a foothold, he casually slips in logical accusations, plants things in my mind I know aren't true. He lies to me about myself, but he covers them oh so well.

I believe God knew we would have mornings like this - mornings where we were so desperate for grace and mercy, that He went ahead and promised us they would be waiting for us when we awoke. I'm rarely aware of my body's need for oxygen to sustain itself. It's subconscious, second nature. But in those moments I realize it, I'm grateful for nothing else.

Grace, mercy, compassion - they are the same. My soul, my heart, requires them to exist. But like a fool, I rarely dwell on that. It has become second nature - expected. God shows up every morning, like clockwork, with a big silver platter of grace, mercy, and love. In my selfishness and pride, I don't even see Him. Sometimes I don't even partake. Satan squeals with glee.

I want to be at a point in my life where I don't merely expect a lavish platter of Jesus in the morning, but yearn for it. Before my feet hit the floor, I want to have a buffet in bed of grace, mercy, love, and forgiveness. The best part of this Heavenly buffet - the menu always changes, according to my needs.

Because of His love, we are not consumed. His compassions are new, custom tailored, and fresh, every morning. The next time you wake up beaten, have breakfast in bed. The best kind.