spirituality – Page 24 – Southwest Conference Blog

5 Gifts for Postmodern Faith Communities

First, gentle readers, a confession: I’ve got a lot at stake in this whole church thing working out. I suspect that most of you do too. I begin by letting you know that this might be way off-base as I definitely have a pro-church bias. You’ve been warned. I also begin with a bit of clarification; in the title I mean “all churches doing ministry in the 21st century, in this time of movement out of Modernity and toward whatever is next.” To state the obvious: some churches are already postmodern and some are not. The clarification wouldn’t make a very good permalink.

So what is church? What’s the purpose? What are we doing and why do we do it?

In my own answer I’m indebted to teachers in the tradition of the Ecumenical Order and its contemporary offspring: Realistic Living and Profound Journey Dialog. This is a whole rabbit-hole, but I tell you this just to make clear that these ideas aren’t my own.

Church is people who are watching, waiting, and acting.

In the words of H. Richard Neibuhr, church are those sensitive and responsive people who are first to perceive God’s work in the world and first to respond. To me, this is beautiful imagery. I imagine millions of sensitive and responsive people, those who care, looking around, finding God at work, and joining in. Church folks are the “what’s next?” people. In my mind, all of us sensitive and responsive ones are pausing every once in a while, looking toward the horizon, testing the winds… to see if God is moving in a new way in our world.

Despite this lovely calling to pioneer God’s work in the world, the church isn’t doing so well. You don’t have to look very far to find various bloggers, authors, ministers, and public personae having a big conversation about how close to death the institutional church is in our time. I’m not interested in having that debate. It’s clear that church has changed, is changing, can anticipate additional changes. Because I believe in celebrating and being thankful for what is, I’m looking for the gifts in all this change.

Gift #1: Smallitude
One of the biggest challenges facing the church is the commoditization of worship and community life. A couple of examples will give you a feel for what I’m getting at. I work at a church with an unabashedly progressive theology. Every summer, some of our families attend Vacation Bible School programs at other churches with very different dogma and cosmology. It’s something wholesome for the kids to do in the summer. A couple of years ago, I got an email right before Christmas from a family explaining that they would be attending Christmas eve services at a church closer to their home. Every church has candles and Silent Night, right? I’m not criticizing these families’ decisions, but I am pointing toward an idea that, for many people, church is something that fits or doesn’t fit the family’s needs and schedule, much like sports teams and music lessons. Folks shop around, and churches put their best foot forward to get in on the action. It’s consumerism and it seems so natural, so much ‘just the way things work,’ that we can’t see it.

We’re better when we’re smaller.

Last year, I got a birthday card with a cartoon of Jesus on the front, captioned ‘Jesus on Twitter.’ His little thought balloon said, “Twelve followers… Sweet!”

Smaller means more intimate, less pretentious. Smaller means more consensus and fewer committees. Sometimes smaller means more REAL.

Gift #2 Permission to put Vision in the driver’s seat… and stop using the R-word!
Big churches have lots of programs. There’s not a thing wrong with programs. But programming (lots of Bible studies, small groups, family activities, fitness plans, travel) can be a distraction from a congregation’s shared vision.

When a faith community puts an emphasis on programs, they run the risk of people leaving when the church down the street offers a program they like better. So program planning becomes a vicious circle: offer more, fancier, more polished programs in brand new buildings or via shiny fast technology. Church leadership becomes focused on numbers and fear. A church focused on numbers and fear – no matter how nice their brochures or how hip their website it – is dying. We are tempted to measure success with spreadsheets and numbers rather than with transformation.

The alternative is to let vision run the show. A shared, energizing, hopeful vision for the future – not just the future of an individual church, but the future of a movement, the future of the earth community. It’s risky, occasionally chaotic. But it’s exciting.

When vision drives the church and becomes the center of decision-making and resource allocation, the church no longer needs to worry about being relevant. (Side Rant: I HATE talk about getting relevant. Bleh.) We get behind the vision, do the work we are called to do, and leave the judgments for history to decide. In other words, when we are busy working, we don’t have time for hand-wringing conversations about being relevant.

Gift #3 Relationship gets more than just talk
All churches talk about relationship. It’s a buzzword. The hype around relationships is crazy-making. A friend of mine had an interesting experience with a large Phoenix church. The relationships this church seemed ready to build were with her husband (with a manly, trade show vibe) and with her children (with contemporary music and lots of technology). When they stopped attending, no one noticed.

Everyone’s a pastor. Everyone is a caregiver. I struggled with this in my first year as a church staffer. I had this idea that I would swoop in, fix the education programming (meaning, that I would fill a calendar grid with classes and speakers), and things would just get magically better. Caregiving was just not in the picture. Then I helped lead a retreat (more programming! LOL) in which there were two people in a lot of pain. One was grieving; the other was working through some painful experiences in her past. This second participant had an obvious ‘tell:’ when she would talk about her family life and the difficulties they had experienced, she would grin largely and nervously. The grin masked, just barely, the struggle. I did a lot of caregiving that weekend and since. It’s changed the way I listen, the way I show up, the way I measure my accomplishments in any given week. I’m still growing in this area and feel so grateful for the grace my community shows me as I learn.

Everyone is a caregiver.

Gift #4 Getting Creative… because it’s required
In the 1950s when everyone went to church, I imagine that creativity was a luxury. When everything was going well and the church was ahead on budget items, the staff would get creative.

These days, creativity is an everyday thing. Newly minted M.Div. graduates get creative when putting together their call to ministry in order to become ordained. Children’s ministry teams get creative when they don’t have a budget for the off-the-shelf pageant or VBS curriculum. Churches discover that they have gifts sitting RIGHT THERE IN THE PEWS! Chefs, teachers, organizers, plumbers, drivers, engineers pitch in to do the work we are called to do.

Gift #5 Lay Leadership Gets Real
Again, I imagine that in days gone by, lay leadership was something a little extra. Churches set aside a day in the fall to recognize the church board chair and the Sunday School teachers. Isn’t that nice? The niceness was propped up by a culture of single income nuclear families and at-home caregivers.

Now, there is less of a division between authorized ministry and lay leadership. More ministers have day jobs to pay the bills. We are getting rid of the idea that being called to ministry requires a Rev in front of your name. These are “fighting words” for some of my friends and colleagues, and this warrants much more digital ink, but this is what I see.

Additionally, despite the necessity of intensive volunteer work and expertise and involvement, there are fewer June Cleavers in our pews. There’s a squeeze of time that we are all living with. AND YET… I see busy and passionate people at board and team meetings every week, prioritizing God’s work over the millions of distractions technology and culture afford us.

Church is people who are watching and waiting – looking toward the margins to see the next place where God is at work. Church is people who are acting – serving peace and justice on behalf of all. These pioneering actions continue to happen despite the naysayers who are ready to write the church’s obituary. A smaller church for postmodernity can be MUST BE a visioning church, a caring church, a countercultural church, a serving church.

I hope I’m at least a little bit right. I’m leaning in with this church thing. Peace to all.

How My Gay Brothers and Sisters Bolster My Faith

by Ken McIntosh

“My gay sisters and brothers have given me a tremendous gift—they are the witnesses that enable my own faith to withstand its most severe challenges.”

I begin this article with a confession. I should probably have used the #IWASKIMDAVIS hashtag for my Twitter and Facebook posts last month, because I’m one of those older ministers whose views have changed, and I’m chagrined to think of some of my past sermons and comments. My Christian life began in the Evangelical camp and I remained there for more than a decade. “You can only know what you know” and for years the only theological writings that I came across were of the typical and unfortunate category labeling “homosexuality” as a choice and a sin. Given that background, when I came across GLBT Christ followers, I could only see them as a challenge—challenging the presuppositions that I held.

My sister proved to be my salvation in this regard; without her I might still cling to a very limited view of God’s mercy, along with a hyper-literalist approach to the Bible. She has always been a model Christ-follower in our family (although I’m the one with the formal degree in theology). Simply by being herself, Joyce witnessed to me that my spiritual siblings who loved their partners of the same sex are as faithful to Christ and as transformed by the Spirit as I (nay, they are more so). And I’ve come to realize that my gay sisters and brothers have given me a tremendous gift—they are the witnesses that enable my own faith to withstand its most severe challenges.

As the culture wars heat up I’ve become intensely aware of how Christians get painted with a broad brush stroke. That came to a head a few weeks ago when a long-time friend told me “You’re not a Christian. If you choose that word to self-identify that’s your right, but I know Christians and you’re not that.” Now, she meant that as a compliment—her way of acknowledging that I’ve become a more inclusive and broad-minded person. But it also stung, because that accusation divides me within myself. Bombarded by the statements of right-wing politicians, preachers and ordinary believers, I struggle with doubts. Have I hit upon a truer faith now, or am I deluding myself to remain in a religion that has so long been characterized by oppression? Why couldn’t I have chosen a religion like Buddhism or Jainism that isn’t regarded as evil? Yes, I’m part of a big UCC family, with many inclusive fellow believers, but our numbers (around a million) are pretty small compared to more conservative groups like the Southern Baptists (15 times as many). And then I keep hearing old friends tell how they’ve left the faith and are so much more congruent embracing atheism (they do a good job evangelizing for their non-faith).

So am I crazy to keep believing? Thank God for the example of gay believers—they give me hope to keep on. If any group has reason to feel the sting of Christian guilt-by-association, it’s them. They’ve been told for centuries that their faith is illegitimate, that they are shameful and unloved by God. Yet their experience belies those lies and they continue to proclaim love for Jesus.

I read John Fortunato’s book Embracing the Exile: Healing Journeys of Gay Christians. He recounts the long and difficult struggle of growing up being both Catholic (sincerely devout) and gay. At one point he complains to God about his fellow believers saying “They call my light darkness! They call my love perverted! They call my gifts corruptions. What the hell are you asking me to do?” And then John Fortunato hears God’s voice, clear and unmistakable. “Love them anyway,” God said. “Love them anyway.”

I think of a trusted colleague in ministry, a gay man who reminds me that our calling is to assist all UCC churches to prosper—not just the Open and Affirming churches, not just the Progressive Churches—but all the churches in our conference.

I think of the young woman with a spikey hairdo in my church who wears a “Gay Christian” t-shirt and engages people in dialogue when they comment on that, taking on the role of an educator for the misinformed.

And if my gay companions can wear the label “Christian” despite the toxicity that’s been pinned onto that, then surely I can. Jesus is indeed fortunate to have such faithful followers—and I am blessed to be surrounded on earth by such witnesses.

Why I Bother

by Karen Richter

Do you ever have those days when you ask yourself, “Why am I going to all this trouble?”

When I was in 8th grade (worst year of my life – true story!), my teacher Ann Andrews asked us to write five things about ourselves on an index card. My fifth thing was ‘I am an eternal optimist.’ It’s still true, but I do have those days when I wonder if I’m just talking to myself around here.

“Around here” is a church, a wonderful place filled with laughter and grace and people walking their talk. I do love this place. My lungs fill a little deeper when I pull into the parking lot.

But every year it gets a little harder. Every year attendance is down just a bit. Every year we have to struggle just a little more to make the budget. Every year I’m sweet-talking just a few more to get people to participate in spiritual formation (Sunday School, classes, and retreats and such).

At least that’s the way it seems some days. I assume that you have “some days” too. Maybe today is one of them. Just in case, I’m answering the question TODAY so I can remind myself when I need to hear this answer.

1. First, some non-reasons. These are completely irrelevant (to me).

Because I don’t want to burn in hell.
Because I want my kids to be “good”.
Because I don’t want my kid to have sex outside of marriage.
Because Christianity is the only answer to the meaning of life.
Because I’m afraid of / superior to other religions and cultures.
Because I fear.

These might be legitimate reasons for some people, but they aren’t mine. I list them here just to deal with the baggage.

2. I stick around church because it grounds me.

Human beings are funny creatures. We are, in the words of the Psalms, “made just a little lower than the angels.” According to evolutionary thinkers, we are the universe becoming self-conscious for perhaps the first time. We are simultaneously selfish, greedy, obsessive, mean, short-term thinkers who can’t get our shit in squares to save our own sorry lives, much less the whole darn planet.

My faith does a great job of keeping me in this middle place: knowing and hoping for the best part of humanity and acknowledging that we are flawed and more than a little dangerous. Yeah, I could have faith without church, but that seems like a lonely answer.

3. I stick around church because it answers my questions and encourages me to ask better, deeper questions.

At its best, Christian faith helps me develop a healthy relationship with my experiences. With a rich history of contemplation and mysticism, Christianity gives me tools with which to grapple with the biggest questions life has to offer. These tools aren’t the only ones out there, but they’re mine: prayer, meditation, centering, lectio divina, acts of mercy and service, spiritual direction and companionship.

4. I stick around church because it makes me a better person.

There’s always a tug between being real and being kind. At least there is for me. Maybe some people are naturally kind, and good for them. Being part of my faith community gives me lots, LOTS of opportunities to practice kindness. I tell my kiddos all the time that the best thing someone can say about you is that you are kind… not smart or beautiful or accomplished or wealthy or popular or athletic. The more that I’m around these wacky church people (I’m talkin’ about you, Southwest Conference!), the more I feel the impulse to kindness. The more I practice kindness, the more I progress along the path to being an actual, real life kind person. Then kindness becomes part of the real me. It’s a slow process; just ask the people who know me!

Church folks are not the only people serving peace and justice in the world, but it’s a good bet that if you scratch the surface of a church, you’ll find people who care… and put their caring into action.

5. I stick around church because it is a human thing to do.

Darn us humans with our existential angst! We just can’t help it. We are always looking for meaning. Sometimes we have a hard time finding meaning and we just make some up. We’re meaning-making, meaning-sharing, narrative-telling critters. We’re hard-wired for connection and community. We long to belong and to become whatever it is we’re meant to be.

On the big scale, we’re still a species in our infancy. We’re still growing and evolving. Church is helping me do my part. It’s a lot of trouble, but I’m sticking around. I hope you are too.

Karen Richter is Director of Spiritual Formation at Shadow Rock UCC. She has worked previously in a variety of educational and nonprofit settings. Her interests include peaceful parenting, theology in pop culture, and adult/adolescent faith formation. She is also active in Shadow Rock’s sanctuary ministry and Whole Life Center. Karen lives in Anthem, Arizona with her husband, children, and tiny dog.

You may contact Karen at karen@shadowrockucc.org

Failure

by Kelly Kahlstrom

Does it hold true, that when we have room to address our existential questions that suffering is eased? One great existential question is “what does it mean to be human?” As the following essay suggests…failing is part of the human experience.

“So last week I tried to hang myself on a stretch of land off I-35,” said my friend, who I call my cousin.

“Jesus,” I swore. “Why?”

But I already had an inkling that I knew the answer. My cousin’s story wasn’t very new to me anymore.

“I was tired of feeling like a failure,” he said.

And there it was, the F-word.

I heard him and knew his pains like they were my own. It remains one of my greatest regrets that my scholarly father lived to see his son enter college at an early age but died before he could see him leave at a late one. In my short life I have failed at more projects than I have accomplished, and even my accomplishments don’t look like much in retrospect. I work two jobs, one in a tenuous entry-level position, the other as a janitor. I have never had a romantic relationship that lasted over a year, and I drive a beat-up vehicle. Look for a picture of success online and you will not see the face of Raziq Brown.

I have stared into The Abyss known as Failure and Loss many times. Not only has it stared back, but it has pulled me down into its murky depths just as it did my cousin, several times in fact. I have seen at least one friend claimed by The Pit, know several who are spelunking it by way of various intoxicants, and know a few more who have thrown themselves in, only to be spared by grace in its various forms.

I come from a generation of people who are often called lazy, selfish, and impractical; not unlike those from many generations before. I cringe every time I hear such things. I know there is an entire population of young people literally killing themselves to prove their inherent worth to the world and to become successful by whatever means and in whatever mode they can.

They say my generation expects too much for too little. They say we are children who refuse to grow up.

I think back on my own life, and I know they are wrong.

Would the boy I was approve of the man I am? No, the boy I was would have thrown himself off the nearest bridge just to save himself from future embarrassment. The adolescent I was would have driven the car to get him to the bridge, and the man I was the year following my father’s death would have piled the boy with strong spirits so the fall wouldn’t hurt so bad. But I am not the child I was, the teen I was, nor the man I was then.

I am the man I am now. It is all I can ever be. It’s all any of us can be…Raziq George Brown.*

I leave you with this thought…”Success is not measured by what you accomplish, but by the opposition you have encountered, and the courage with which you have maintained the struggle against overwhelming odds.” Orison Swett Marden.

* Parker, Kayla ed. “Becoming: A spiritual guide for navigating adulthood”. Unitarian Universalist Association. 2014 pp 12-13.

Kelly is a recent graduate of Iliff School of Theology. She is the Justice Coordinator for Rebel and Divine UCC, a ministry in formation committed to the health and wholeness of at-risk youth and young adults. She has been a nurse for over 30 years and is currently employed by one of AZ’s Medicaid programs working with young pregnant women. Her passion is forming connections and playing with language in the liminal space between humanity and divinity.

Is It Time to Outgrow Magical Thinking in Regards to Prayer?

by Ken McIntosh

A few days ago I was chatting with one of my closest friends about the popularity of the movie War Room. That best-selling film tells the story of a woman who saves her marriage by prayer. My friend said “Isn’t that just magical thinking?” I agreed that it was—while reflecting that I don’t want to dismiss the idea of prayer and causality. Magical thinking is defined by Wikipedia as “the attribution of causal relationships between actions and events which seemingly cannot be justified by reason and observation.” Increasingly, I find that my relations– both within the church and without– question the traditional understanding of prayer as a means of influencing reality. I share some of their concerns. Yet this discussion prompted me to think a bit more about what prayer is, and why I still practice it in the form of intercession.

Before reading further, be assured that I do not presume to prescribe anyone’s belief or theology. I embrace the UCC ideal that we have no tests of faith—only testimonies. I enjoy reading others’ theological ruminations –testimonies if you will. Whether I agree with them or not, I am blessed by all who voice or write their thoughts about God. I hope my own feeble musings might prove helpful in
some way.

Concerns over the ways that prayer has been misunderstood and misused

As I said, I share concern over the ways that traditional theism has perhaps misunderstood or misused prayer. Most obviously, the same people who wax eloquent regarding prayer also tend to embrace bibliolatry, hyper-literalism, prejudice, and rejection of science. Prayer is tainted by association. And prayer can actually be harmful when it becomes an excuse for inaction: what good does
it do praying for the environment, or for refugees, or for peace, if one is unwilling to spend time and money influencing the political decisions that foster these ills? Furthermore, prayers often seem directed toward “the Big Man in the sky”—too easily pictured as Michelangelo’s white-haired patriarch on the Sistine Chapel, an entity separated from the physical world.

It’s often pointed out that prayer primarily changes the person praying—and perhaps that is its efficacy. This is certainly true in my own experience. I’ve been driven to my knees hearing about an injustice, or seeing an image of suffering. Before I can rise again, something drives home my need for involvement. This leads me to the local government office to testify before a hearing, to deliver food
and diapers to a family in need, or to stand in lines protesting. Prayer does change things—and often the thing it changes most powerfully is me. But does it perhaps do more? Can we still affirm, rationally, that “More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of”? (quote from Alfred Lord Tennyson).

Prayer and the nature of God

A common belief among UCC folks is “God is still speaking.” That keeps us on the forefront of the struggle for justice, and keeps us relevant in a quickly-changing world. As I thought about prayer recently, I had the very simple thought: “It does little good if God is still speaking but not listening.” Our wonderful dedication to justice and freedom—from Amistad to marriage equality—has come from a
long tradition that God is on the side of the oppressed, a tradition that hearkens back to the Book of Exodus. That Exodus event, in turn, is empowered by a God who hears: “They cried out …God heard their cry of grief, and God remembered his covenant…God looked…and God understood” (Exodus 2:23-25). What happened when God heard? God called Moses—and liberation began.

In much the same way, God spoke reassuring Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. at a turning point in the struggle for civil rights. As Dr. Julius R. Scruggs tells it, “King references the time during the Montgomery bus boycott when the bigots threatened to kill him and blow up his home. He retreated to the kitchen and laid his soul bare before God, praying for strength and guidance, and God sustained him then and through his difficult and challenging pilgrimage.”

If the only way that God ‘answers’ prayer were by influencing men and women to respond to his call, that would still to an extent fall under the criticism of ‘magical’ thinking: there is a cause (the cries of humanity for redemption) and an event (God speaks in response to their cries). Yet this action of God calling champions for love is a critical part of the legacy of the United Church of Christ.

My own belief in causal prayer comes from my understanding of God’s nature. I am a panentheist. Not a pantheist (where all is God) but a pan-en-theist (where the whole of physical reality is in God). As described in Acts 17:28 “In God we live and move and exist.” This also goes hand-in-hand with a process view of the Divine nature; God cannot be extricated from the flow of evolving consciousness in the universe. This means that I am indeed a part of God; Spirit indwells every person (and creatures as well); yet God also transcends flesh and matter.

If God then connects all that is, how can I pray without connecting to forces outside of my own body? I don’t pray to “The Big Man in the sky”…I pray as a part of the vast interconnected Reality that includes myself and reaches beyond the sum of the physical cosmos. And if that is so, then our prayers do matter. It may be “magical thinking,” but it still fits within a rational understanding of the nature of God and reality.

Inspiring words by a great theologian

I conclude with words from the late Walter Wink, who taught at Auburn seminary. In his book “The Powers that Be” he says:

“When we pray, we are not sending a letter to a celestial White House…rather, it is an act of co-creation, in which one little sector of the universe rises up and becomes translucent, incandescent, a vibratory center of power that radiates the power of the universe. History belongs to the intercessors, who believe the future into being.”

So, as we work together for the Beloved Community…let us pray.

Kenneth McIntosh serves as Church Growth and Renewal Coordinator for Southwest Conference and also as pastor of First Congregational Church in Flagstaff, Arizona. He has his M.Div from Fuller Seminary and has been in pastoral ministry for over twenty years in four different denominations. He is passionate about spiritual practices, justice and Earth care. Ken is author of several popular books on Celtic Christian spirituality and a facilitator for Forest Church. He lives with his wife Marsha in Flagstaff and enjoys hiking, traveling and reading on a wide variety of topics.

The Vector of the Spirit

by Karen Richter

Vector: (mathematics) a quantity possessing both magnitude and direction.
Source: Dictionary.com

Faith communities can be very unpredictable places. Take a look around your own spiritual home to see it with fresh eyes.

At the church I call home, we are often proud of the fast pace of happenings on our campus and their diversity. Sometimes we even go so far as to say, “You just never know what’s going on around here!” or “We don’t have ‘regular Sundays’ here!” And in a sense, these expressions are correct: it’s sometimes a busy, wacky place to be.

But in another, deeper way, what goes on here and at other faith communities is entirely expected. The Spirit of Life is at work. And while the Spirit is unpredictable, her vector is always the same. The Spirit moves in the direction of wholeness, peace, justice, grace, and love. Where the wind of Spirit rises and blows is always a surprise to us. The example during my own lifetime is clear: I never would have predicted 20 years ago that marriage equality would begin to sweep the country. The speed at which hearts and minds (and laws!) changed was a joy to observe. The where and the how fast both surprised me.*

“The wind blows all around us as if it has a will of its own; we feel and hear it, but we do not understand where it has come from or where it will end up. Life in the Spirit is as if it were the wind of God.” John 3: 8 from The Voice New Testament

We can imagine a weather map of the United States (pardon me for being ameri-centric, it’s the geography I know best). Imagine a wind that always blows from east to west. Sometimes a gentle breeze stirs on the Carolina coast from Wilmington to Charlotte around the issue of climate change and creation care and marine conservation. Sometimes a gale stirs the Great Plains from Des Moines to Lincoln around worker rights. Another day, a warm gust rises in El Paso and heads toward Phoenix, with energy and passion for humane immigration. Winds converge and create storms and new patterns. These winds can be different, but they blow always in the same direction: toward greater wholeness, peace, justice, grace and love.

So what do we do? How can we participate?

We care. Thankfully there are some true constants in a life of faith. Love God; Love one another; love ourselves. Everyday acts of kindness, service, and self-care stretch us and keep our hearts soft. So, when the wind around us begins to blow, our excitement can become greater than our fear.

We prepare. We ready ourselves for the new work that awaits us, with practices of silence and contemplation. We gather around ourselves others who are also preparing to join in and invest in relationships. We get some tools and supplies ready. Depending on the kind of wind we observe, we might need a kite or maybe a sail; prayer flags or perhaps flower seeds.

We watch. We study the horizon, looking for signs that God is at work. We become like spiritual meteorological Minutemen, ready to act at a moment’s notice when conditions change.

We harness. We join the Spirit at work, as our gifts indicate. The work gives us joy and purpose.

Unpredictable? Sometimes. But the holy vector is constant.

*Of course the pace has seemed slow to others, particularly those who were involved in this ministry of change. In some ways, this point of view reflects my own privilege and isn’t meant to denigrate or minimalize the hard work done by many.

You may contact Karen at karen@shadowrockucc.org