The one thing that frightens us is the one thing that brings us wholeness. The one place that can cause pain is also the place that can bring healing. Participating and entering a gathering of people is a risk; but entering in community is where healing, wholeness and life occur.

Gathered in Austin, Texas this past week for a number of reasons, I had gripping and moving conversations with people who don’t look like me, some who don’t think like me, and many who simply accepted me. Around a table overflowing with food and love, I was reminded of a lyric from Tupac Shakur, I’m a reflection of the community. This community—this gathering of women from different callings, churches, and theological camps—came together as a living testament of Christ’s words: You will be known as my disciples by your love for one another.

I saw the Church—not the institution but the collected body of believers—come together to commune around broken bread dipped in bitter wine to celebrate the work Christ did on the cross. For each of us. For all of us. Despite us.

Around a table overflowing with food and love, we shared stories, spoke about politics, laughed at our failures, admitted our fears. Whether working from home or in corporate America, whether married or single, we came to the table to love and live in a community with each other, if only for a moment. Yes, even broken pieces of our lives dipped in the bitterness of wine can bring celebration and a belief that resurrection will come. In vino et veritas, no?

It’s been said that communication leads to community; that is, to understanding, intimacy and mutual valuing. In every community, there is work to be done. In every gathering, there are wounds to heal. In every heart, there is the power to do it.

More than ever am I committed to gathering in community. As we sat around the table and dreamed of the future, I was excited to know there will be more gatherings and more community and more opportunities to celebrate our successes, mourn our failures, and dream about our futures.