An Open Letter to Grace

Editor’s Note: Grace Writer’s Collective commissioned a letter from Will Shingleton, as he and his wife Tara have left our family and relocated to South Carolina. We think you all will enjoy Will’s refection on life, faith, and church community. Let’s remember to keep Will and Tara in our prayers.

I got to Grace Fellowship in the spring of 2018. 

My friend, Will Sorrell, had gotten married at Redeemer a few months prior, and just like he would be for me a couple of years later, I was his best man that day. I remember it being a surreal experience; I’d spent every possible minute that I could that summer with my future wife, because she was due to return to East Asia as soon as it ended. She left the day after Will’s wedding, in fact. Between that and my best friend getting married, I don’t think I’ve ever had such an emotionally turbulent day, before then or since. 

Amidst all of that upheaval, however, I do remember meeting the guy marrying Will and Sarah Catherine. I’m not wild about meeting new people (more on that in a minute), but for the sole purpose of faithfully executing my role as best man, I ended up having my very first conversation with Joel Busby. Will and I had been in church together for years and spoke often, but he had told me very little about his new pastor: only that he was a bibliophile, and that because of that, we would probably get along quite well. He was correct. Two years later, almost to the day, Joel would be marrying me and Tara. Crazy how these things happen, isn’t it?

Tara went back to East Asia after that, and I went back to Tuscaloosa. I missed her terribly. Most of my friends had gotten jobs or started grad school in Birmingham (my hometown), and I rarely saw them. I missed them terribly, too. Eventually, it was decided that Tara would be going to grad school at Montevallo, which meant that I’d be moving back home to be closer to her. It should have been good news, but at the time, it didn’t feel that way. By the spring of 2018, my friends had been living there for months, if not years, and as was their prerogative, they’d moved on with their lives. They had 401k’s now, and significant others and new church families, and while I was genuinely happy for them, it also made me incredibly sad. How could I catch up with all of that? I’d been out of the picture, away from them for nearly two years. I’d missed so much. 

As I transitioned back to Birmingham, that thought continued to haunt me. I knew that for my own benefit, finding a church home and family was going to be near the top of my priority list, but that came with its own complications. As I mentioned earlier, meeting new people is about as exciting for me as getting a root canal, with or without the anesthetic. Is that a normal way to feel about human interaction? No! No, it isn’t. Not at all, actually, but that’s kind of my point. There is something deeper happening here. When I was a teenager, I started noticing that I felt incredibly uncomfortable when trying to converse with people in group settings (I think most people call it “making small talk”), and that I seemed to have a much lower social tolerance level than most of my friends. I hated being in crowds. I shied away from speaking in front of groups. Worst of all, I worried constantly about what other people thought of me in social situations, to the point that I would stay home just to avoid feeling those feelings. 

I would liken how I feel in social settings to being a non-native speaker of a dominant language. Everyone around me seems to always be on the same page, but depending on the day, I may be as much as a chapter or two behind. Am I saying or doing the right thing? Are they understanding me? My grad school program is in sports psychology, and through my studies I’ve learned more and more that these feelings aren’t just me being awkward. I will concede that that’s part of it, but thankfully, not the whole. I have what the DSM-V calls Social Anxiety Disorder, which, largely, is exactly what it sounds like. 

Social situations make me anxious, sure, but more importantly, the particular anxiety I feel is not commensurate with the actual stakes of a given environment. When my friends were living it up (I assumed) in Birmingham without me, I feared that my lack of social stamina would render any ground I’d lost impossible to make up. It seems silly in hindsight, but I was legitimately afraid that the time I’d spend in Tuscaloosa had created a gap in “friendship points” so wide that I’d never be able to recover. I came back home afraid, and it was at that point that I found grace. And Grace Fellowship. 

My first few months at Grace were, as you might expect, timid. I would come, sit in the same spot every week (next to the Sorrells if I could help it), and then leave as soon as I could. I was there alone for the first few months as Tara finished up her time abroad, and even though I knew many people at Grace, more than I’d expected, in fact, I was still nervous. I appreciated Joel’s ability to deliver the Word, though, and the genuineness in Grace’s worship services. I’m also a sucker for liturgy, and all of that combined was enough to make me want to give Grace a shot on a more permanent basis. 

Tara came back that June, and after some discussion, we decided that Grace was where we wanted to be going forward. There would be more challenges to come, though. I took a job that May that had me working from 1pm-10pm most days, which made it impossible for me to go to a home group. Tara and I had been placed in the Kennedys’, but as August came and they started meeting at 6:30 every Wednesday, I would just be starting to coach my last class at the exact same time. That group was incredibly beneficial for Tara as she transitioned back to the States, but as the months passed, I felt more and more like an afterthought. As she was discussing the sermon from that Sunday, I was busy mopping the gym floor. She was building community and making invaluable relationships every week, but I wasn’t. It was just like I’d felt when I was in Tuscaloosa. Important stuff was happening, but through circumstances largely outside of my control, I was missing it. 

After nearly a year of being at Grace, I left that job, and would therefore be available to go to home group every week from then on. It should have been good news, but at the time, it didn’t feel that way. I didn’t want to go at all, actually. Tara and I were engaged by that point, and even though I knew subconsciously that we would need community to help us through our first year of marriage, I had little to no interest in pushing my boundaries to try and get to know this new group of people. I like my boundaries, and what seemed even worse, I was already nine months behind! It was like Tuscaloosa all over again. Tara had spent week after week getting to know these people: meeting their kids, learning about their lives, and getting to a place where she was doing home group as it was intended to be done. I was not. 

As there always is where the Gospel is concerned, however, there was hope. Proverbs 28 says “the wicked flee when no one pursues, but the righteous are as bold as a lion.” Tara and I got married in August of 2019, and as the summer passed into fall, in his mercy, the Lord gave me a spirit when it came to home group that looked more like the latter than the former. Even on the nights when I didn’t want to go, of which there were at least a couple, I always heard his voice in my ear, felt his touch guiding me out the door and into the car. I still get anxious. I still worry way too much about how people think of my social performance. Even using that word betrays how it can feel to me sometimes. The Lord has brought me a lot of peace, however, in beginning to understand that feelings themselves do not draw the line between fleeing and being bold. Letting go of anxiety and fear takes trust, and trust takes plenty of bravery in its own right. Furthermore, I’ve come to a point that I trust the people in my home group as much as anyone. I would not have thought that possible a year ago. Grace is an incredibly warm, gracious, and accepting place. From the first pew to the last, there are people that care deeply and love wholly. I’ve learned that they are not the kind of people who keep score. There is no need to “catch up”. There is no need to flee. These are the people of God. 

Tara and I will leave to go to Greenville, South Carolina in less than a week. There is a not-insignificant portion of our hearts that will stay here with Grace Fellowship, and in particular, the Kennedy home group. The people that I feared showing myself for all those weeks and months, to are now as much a part of our family as anyone else, and for that, I am grateful. To anyone just coming to Grace, I will say this: be bold, even if it seems impossible. There are tight-knit friend groups here, but there’s room for you. There are a lot of very intelligent people who love the Lord, but they’re willing to listen and learn. Leaving Grace will be incredibly difficult, not least because it means starting over. Starting over makes me anxious. However, if the past couple of years have taught me anything, it’s that being anxious doesn’t have to be the end. In fact, if you’re willing to be bold and resist the urge to flee, it can change your life for the better. 

We love you, Grace Fellowship. 

Will Shingleton