New Chair, New View

Some thoughts after a week of being a presbyter…

The church is in better shape than most of us have been led to believe. 

Yes, we are older. There is no escaping the truth that millennials have found something else to do with their Sunday mornings, but the folks who do gather in worship and education on any given Sunday want to be there and seem to be getting more than a little from the experience. Their practice is diverse—as diverse as the people gathered—but it is rich and sincere. That sincerity leads to a deep commitment to engaging beyond Sunday morning—making what is seen and heard real and tangible in living life as a disciple.

I was particularly struck by the presence of covenant groups as a primary means of connection. In my first week, I had the joy of sitting with other pastors as they shared their lives, their ministries, encouraging one another, coaching one another, and blessing one another. Nothing was held back. Everything that could be was laid on the table. There was no sense of defensiveness—I need to be careful because what I say may be used/held against me later—nor a sense of needing to prove one’s worth to anybody—we are in this together—that was the sense. 

And we are.

An aging and shrinking denomination means that we are in this together in ways many of us never imagined being together. Even after a week, I am already being brought up to speed on congregations struggling to make it—just a few—but that does not diminish the power or pain of the struggle to figure out what God wants, where God is leading, and what God intends for these groups of human beings trying to understand how their communion is supposed to look, act, and move forward. 

A real sign of hope in this process is the fiery creativity at work. Sitting with a task force charged with nothing more or other than dreaming new ways to be church was enlightening—with imagination the church can look like most anything—a gathering of storytellers, a wandering collection of nomads meeting in downtown pubs, ever shifting location and make up, a collage of cultures, languages, and expressions of faith simply called Mosaics—all manner of gatherings—but all committed to dwelling beneath the umbrella of God’s grace as manifested in Jesus. There is an acceptance that church cannot be static, but evolving, becoming, and being whatever God needs it to be to connect and engage with whomever happens to be standing there at any given moment.

As my first week unfolded, I realized I was running.

It happened so subtly, but Friday afternoon came before I was even through with stuff that first flew across my computer screen on Tuesday. This presbytery is gone, baby! They’re already miles down the road, so you better run if you have any hope of catching them—and I’m supposed to be leading!

Faces, names, and places all flew past like the scenery along the ride out here. There wasn’t really time to take any of it in. An invitation—please reintroduce yourself—this time I’ll make it stick! Yet, there was the recognition that there, belonging will come. The more weeks like this one pass, more will stick, clarify, and open. 

I have a deep sense that God is smiling at me—that smug, slightly snarky smile I am sure Jesus shot at the disciples when they bumbled about trying to feed 5000 men and their families, or as they screamed in terror at him blithely dancing along the white caps in a sea storm—I am here and, yes, I am up to something and you’re going to be in the thick of it. God hopes we’ll always remember that presence with us, especially when we feel left behind, overwhelmed, and staring blankly because we can’t figure out what else to do. It is in that presence that creation continues—it never really stops. 

God is at work here.

I know it. I feel it.

God is at work wherever you are, too. I know it. I feel it.

And God is with all of us, waiting to see what we will do with what God is making. God wants us active, participatory, and engaged. 

That is our hope and our salvation.

What a week!