I spend last week--a very long week--in Cleveland for meetings with colleagues from across the United Church of Christ. In meetings of the United Church of Christ Council of Conference Ministers and the United Church of Christ Board, a common theme was transformation, the transformation of our denomination. There was a sense of urgency among us: This is our moment to be the Church.
Yes, the Church is changing. The United Church of Christ is changing. No doubt about it. But I wonder whether we are claiming too much credit for the change that is happening. Is it really all about our designs and dreams? Are we as important as we think we are? Does the call to be a minister (a servant) grant us the right and responsibility to dismantle what has been and be architects of what is to come? Where is God in the midst of this change?
What I felt in Cleveland was a profound sadness. While glimpsing the church we are becoming, grief swept through my spirit. I found myself remembering and missing The Evangelines, a women's Sunday School class in a former church where I served as pastor and teacher. This class was created in the 1920's, a very long time ago. The class met for Sunday morning study and monthly fellowship and service. I admired the way these women continued to combine study and service. They were disciples of Jesus. They were faithfully relational. They were the church at its best. I suspect that this class may be gone now. Yes, things change in the church. "New occasions teach new duties." But there needs to be room for change to come naturally--in God's good time. Real transformation takes time. It will not be forced by those who seek to initiate and control it.
As I took a walk in Cleveland last Friday, I discovered a solitary daffodil that had emerged after the cold winter. The bud reminded me that something new is emerging from the wintry earth. Though I will not be there to see it bloom, I saw hope in the bud. I see even greater hope as we approach Easter, which holds the promise of transformation for us all: the change from death to life. Christ's resurrection will not be forced. It will not be managed or controlled. It appears in God's good time, shrouded in mystery before the dawn. It comes as a gift to be received and lived. It is reason for exuberant joy. I persevere in the hope of resurrection. It's not about me, but it's about the God who raised Jesus from the dead--doing what I could not even imagine or control.
Eternal One, thank you for the memory of those who have been the church, living with patient hope and persevering love. Lead us forward in faith. Let Christ's resurrection change and sustain us. Let this be your moment! May it be so. Amen.
Yes, the Church is changing. The United Church of Christ is changing. No doubt about it. But I wonder whether we are claiming too much credit for the change that is happening. Is it really all about our designs and dreams? Are we as important as we think we are? Does the call to be a minister (a servant) grant us the right and responsibility to dismantle what has been and be architects of what is to come? Where is God in the midst of this change?
What I felt in Cleveland was a profound sadness. While glimpsing the church we are becoming, grief swept through my spirit. I found myself remembering and missing The Evangelines, a women's Sunday School class in a former church where I served as pastor and teacher. This class was created in the 1920's, a very long time ago. The class met for Sunday morning study and monthly fellowship and service. I admired the way these women continued to combine study and service. They were disciples of Jesus. They were faithfully relational. They were the church at its best. I suspect that this class may be gone now. Yes, things change in the church. "New occasions teach new duties." But there needs to be room for change to come naturally--in God's good time. Real transformation takes time. It will not be forced by those who seek to initiate and control it.
As I took a walk in Cleveland last Friday, I discovered a solitary daffodil that had emerged after the cold winter. The bud reminded me that something new is emerging from the wintry earth. Though I will not be there to see it bloom, I saw hope in the bud. I see even greater hope as we approach Easter, which holds the promise of transformation for us all: the change from death to life. Christ's resurrection will not be forced. It will not be managed or controlled. It appears in God's good time, shrouded in mystery before the dawn. It comes as a gift to be received and lived. It is reason for exuberant joy. I persevere in the hope of resurrection. It's not about me, but it's about the God who raised Jesus from the dead--doing what I could not even imagine or control.
Eternal One, thank you for the memory of those who have been the church, living with patient hope and persevering love. Lead us forward in faith. Let Christ's resurrection change and sustain us. Let this be your moment! May it be so. Amen.
