Category: faith

The Magnificat: A Calling-out??

by Rev. Deb Worley

“And Mary said,
‘My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
His mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants forever.’”

(Luke 1:46-55)

The Magnificat.

Mary’s Song of Praise.

The Canticle of Mary.

By whatever name you call it, it’s a hymn of praise, an overflowing offering of praise and gratitude to God, “the Mighty One,” offered by Mary following her joyous meeting with her cousin Elizabeth, during which the miraculous pregnancies of both women were recognized. It’s praise for what God has done for her, and praise for what God will do through her.

And it’s not just praise. Or at least not just a “rainbows and roses” kind of praise that makes everyone feel good. It’s also a claiming of the reality of God, a proclaiming of the Kingdom of God that has been promised “from generation to generation,” and that will be birthed in a new and previously unknown way, in Jesus.

In Mary’s hymn of joyous praise to God, there is, included, an overturning of the status quo–the powerful being brought down and the lowly being lifted up…. There’s a calling-out of the way things are and a “calling-toward” the ways things are meant to be–those who are hungry being filled to satisfaction and those who are satisfied being sent away empty….

The Magnificat is not simply a quiet song of praise whispered timidly by meek and humble Mary, as I admit I have tended to think of it.

It is a powerful song of praise–and gratitude and hope and revolution–sung boldly by faithful and courageous Mary!

…Would that I might praise God with similar power, and boldness, and courage, not just now in this season of Advent but in the living of all my days…

…Would that my praise might somehow claim, and then proclaim the reality of the Kingdom of God that has been birthed in Jesus…

…Would that my soul might magnify the Lord, today, tomorrow, and always…

Mighty One, may it be so.
Peace be with us all.
Deb

featured image is “The Windsock Visitation” by Brother Mickey O’Neill McGrath

Here is what I have done every day during the pandemic.

by Gordon Street, SWC Commissioned Minister for Reimagining and Connecting with the God of One’s Own Understanding

Faith and spiritual practices sustain me during this uncertain pandemic era and unprecedented election season. Because my ministry focuses on helping people connect with a God of their own understanding, I want to share a few thoughts about what has helped personally these last many months.

The solution always is faith. But what does faith really mean? A quirk of the English language is that faith can be only a noun when it really should be a verb because faith is not what I think, it is what I do. Paul, in Hebrews, says “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” That means faith is the result of hope, the evidence of the unknowable. How I choose to face each day and what I do during the course of each day produces faith. Faith does not guide my actions. Actions produce my faith.

Here is what I have done every day during the pandemic. Each day I begin with a prayer for wisdom, strength, willingness and courage to face the things I must face. I also pray for the world, my family, my First Church beloved community, and my friends, to help them in all their needs. Most important is my prayer that God’s will be done in their lives as well as mine. I don’t pray for outcomes. I pray for attitudes in circumstances.

I, like most people, am cooped up at home. I reach out the friends, family and even strangers every day to see how I can be of service to them and give words of hope and encouragement.

In other words, I pray for faith for myself, and the rest of my prayers are for everyone else. Take the focus off of me. I believe my prayers and actions embody Jesus’ suggestion that we love God with all of our being and love our neighbors as we love ourselves.

Faith doesn’t mean everything will be alright, and I’ll win the lottery too.

God doesn’t necessarily make everything all better. God grants me the willingness, strength, and courage to handle whatever I am facing. God is with me and embracing me through it all. Especially during difficult times. I am comforted by knowing I’m not alone in difficulty.

In These Days

by Deb Worley

“But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.” (Mark 13:24-25)

This was part of the scripture that was read at this past Sunday evening’s (Zoom) vespers service at White Rock Presbyterian Church.

It was the Gospel reading for Sunday, the first Sunday of Advent (yes, really! Already! Crazy…). As I listened to the passage being read, I was struck by the words at the very beginning, the words I quoted above: “in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.”  

And I felt a heaviness as I thought, “Not just ‘in those days’…but in these days!” 

In these days, when there has been and continues to be so much suffering and darkness.

In these days, when there has been and continues to be so much chaos, that we are left feeling like the stars are falling from the sky and the powers in the heavens have been shaken. 

Not just “in those days”…but in these days….

But then I heard the words that came next: “Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory.” (Mark 13:26) And my heaviness turned to hope!

Precisely in the presence of great suffering, when the darkness is so great that it feels like the sun has stopped shining and the moon ‘will not give its light,’ then Jesus will come! Then God will make God’s presence known!

In the wake of tremendous pain, when the resulting chaos has led to feelings of the world being turned completely upside down, when uncertainty seems to reign, then the Son of Man will come! Then God’s power and glory will be made manifest and will be seen! 

“But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken….”

And I know, not just “in those days,” but certainly, in these days….

But “then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory….”

And I pray, not just in those days…but also in these days.
If not now, when??

Come, Lord Jesus! 
We are waiting…
We are watching…
We are hoping…
We are praying.

Peace be with us all, in this sorely needed season of Advent.

Untangling the Mess

by Deb Worley

“Trust God from the bottom of your heart;
     don’t try to figure out everything on your own.
 Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go;
     [God] is the one who will keep you on track.”
                                             (Proverbs 3:5-6, The Message)

While she was away, Sarah learned to crochet…and has become a bit of a blanket-making machine! “Everyone’s getting a blanket for Christmas this year!” So as not to be left out of the fun, I asked her if she would teach me. What you see in the picture above was my first attempt! Not bad, right? She’s a good teacher.

But what you don’t see is the fact that it was becoming narrower and narrower–I couldn’t seem to figure out how to keep the edges straight. What a mess! If I kept going, it was clearly going to end up in the shape of a triangle, rather than the more “traditional” rectangular shape of most blankets! So I pulled it all out so that I might start again. Yes, really….

I quickly got the first part of the yarn rolled up without too much trouble…but then the process came to a screeching halt. Talk about a mess! I had a neat-looking ball of yarn on one side and a big, tangled mess on the other….

Knots, knots, and more knots. If I pulled too hard, the knots only got harder to untangle. If I tried to go too fast, the mess only got worse…. I had to go slowly, be patient, and take my time…not to mention lots of deep breaths! Slowly but surely, the knots got undone and the mess grew smaller….

And finally, after several hours and many deep breaths (and only a few curses muttered under my breath!), voila! Done! Untangled! No more mess! Ahhh… Ready to start over with a new project.

Perhaps with help?…Did you notice the little foot, and whiskers, at the very top??… Meet Winston, one of our cats. Always ready to “help”!    

It struck me, in the midst of that process, that there were some similarities between it and what we’re all living through in this season. A year ago at this time, things were moving along, not perfectly for sure but in a way that seemed at least recognizable, sort of like me crocheting my blanket. And then, somewhere between January and March, things began to unravel. We weren’t doing the unraveling on purpose, certainly, but it happened just the same. And we were all left with a big, tangled mess.

A big, tangled mess that we are still in the middle of and that we all want desperately to untangle, so that we can start moving forward again, with a “new project,” if you will. Or even just get back to what we were doing before. And like with my mess of yarn, sometimes it seems that the more we pull, the more knotted it all becomes. And the faster we try to go, the worse it seems to get….

Perhaps some of the same strategies I used in untangling my mess of yarn can be helpful as we try to–or at least want to–untangle the mess we continue to find ourselves in. This is nothing new, of course, but I for one benefit from an occasional reminder! Perhaps, in this ninth month of COVID restrictions, we can benefit from some renewed patience…some regular deep breaths…and maybe even a few curses muttered under the breath (or shouted out loud?!)….

And additionally, as people of faith, perhaps we can also benefit from remembering, as the wise author of Proverbs reminds us, to trust God from the bottom of our hearts, knowing that we don’t have to–in fact, we can’t–figure out everything on our own. Perhaps, as people of faith, we can remember to listen for God’s voice, trusting that God is the one who will keep us on track. Easier said than done, for sure. But worth a continued effort.

Being patient will help, yes. Breathing deeply will help, absolutely. And in my experience, there’s a definite place for the occasional, appropriately expressed outburst(!). But I would suggest that the most critical piece in getting to the other side of this big, tangled mess in which we continue to find ourselves–and it’s perhaps also the most difficult piece for us high-achieving, do-it-yourself-ers–is trusting God.

Be patient–and trust God.
Breathe deeply–and trust God.
Shake your fist, shout at the heavens, curse a blue streak–and keep trusting God. 

And we will get to the other side of this big, tangled mess, with God at our side, ready for whatever new project awaits us….

Thanks be to God!
Deb

Grace…It’s for More than Just Dinnertime

by Carol Reynolds, Pastor, Scottsdale Congregational UCC

Grace, it strikes me, is one of those “squishy” words that’s hard to put your finger on, seemingly impossible to define, save for the prayers of gratitude and blessing we say before digging into our meals. It’s a theological concept, but it’s more than that. It’s a characteristic of God that we aspire to, some of us more successfully than others; but it’s even more than that! When we add a “ful” to the end of it, I begin to picture something more concrete and outwardly beautiful—a ballerina, a horse, someone with really good posture who treads lightly upon the earth, etc.

I felt vindicated when I went to look grace up in my Westminster Dictionary of Theological Terms the other day. Beyond the “generic” version, which spoke briefly of kindness and unmerited favor, there were fully SIXTEEN types of grace listed and defined!!

actual grace
cheap grace
common grace
cooperating grace
efficacious grace
free grace
glorifying grace
habitual grace
irresistible grace
justifying grace
prevenient grace
sanctifying grace
saving grace
special grace
sufficient grace
universal grace

That’s a whole lot of grace! It reminds me of the fact that the Inuit have 40+ ways to refer to snow, which is pretty modest compared to the Sami of northern Russia and Scandinavia, whom I just learned have 180 words related to snow and ice and as many as 1000 for reindeer![1]

Obviously, to require that extensive a vocabulary for a single concept, it’s got to be something with which people have had A LOT of experience, to which they’ve given a lot of thought, and about which they care a great deal. As far as grace goes, suffice it to say that, in life, we experience a lot of it, which manifests in a host of specific ways. Which must also mean that we need a lot of grace in our lives.Perhaps never has this been truer than today, in the midst of this COVID-19 pandemic that has been our reality for over 10 months now. In many ways we’ve adapted thanks to the high tech means of communications available to us in 2020. We’ve got our weekly worship services, we’ve got our regularly scheduled check-ins with friends and family, we’ve got our shipments of essentials from Amazon and Chewy.com to keep trips to stores to a minimum. And yet…

There are many silver linings to the isolation we’ve had to impose upon ourselves to stay safe; yet loneliness and boredom are unavoidable, nevertheless. In many respects, we’re living out Bill Murray’s iconic Groundhog Day film, waking up to the same day over and over and over again. Sometimes I’m surprised there’s anything at all left to talk about with others!

One thing that does change regularly is the number of people contracting and dying from the virus. Lately they’ve gotten so high that I daresay they defy the 21st Century human imagination. Thank God PBS Newshour makes a point each Friday of sharing the stories of several of the latest victims, giving them human faces and touching, inspirational life stories, lest we come to think of these 250,000+ souls as little more than numbers on a screen.The thing is, no matter if and whether the astronomical numbers cease to outwardly shock us, they’re quietly taking their toll on each of us within, particularly as they land closer and closer to home. Whether we want to admit it or not, what we are experiencing, what the ENTIRE WORLD is experiencing right now is trauma. Trying to absorb and conceive of death on this scale, trying to protect ourselves from a threat that is at once invisible and mysterious, aggressive and hard to pin down for long, this is terrifying stuff, the stuff of horror movies and aspects of medieval European history we’d just as soon forget.

I say all of this not to deeply frighten or depress you, but to help us understand where we’re all coming from these days and to help us to offer our selves and one another that much cherished aspect of God’s character…GRACE. Perhaps never has it been more needed, as together, the whole world, finds itself in the throes of PTSD. Some of us are already quite familiar with this phenomenon in our lives, others not so much. It can manifest in a whole host of ways, but I’d like to highlight a few that I’ve been experiencing in myself and others in recent weeks. Perhaps the most prevalent one is what I like to call “COVID brain,” which can look like an abnormally high level of fuzziness and forgetfulness, slower rates of thinking, tracking, and processing information or communications, difficulty finding words or articulating ideas, etc. it can also look like heightened fears or anxieties, impatience, irritability, frustration, or general crabbiness. In extreme cases, it may have physical effects, perhaps even re-igniting pain from old, physically traumatic injuries.          

This year Thanksgiving comes to us at the exact right time, for thankfulness, gratitude, these are wonderful antidotes to so many of the things we’re experiencing. But the grace part, especially, is what our souls crave and, indeed, need, right now. Both grace for ourselves to receive and grace to give to others. Having said that grace is such a “squishy” word, what does that mean, exactly? It means striving to create a sense of spaciousness in our lives and in our interactions. It means giving ourselves and one another the benefit of the doubt, rather than rushing to criticize or blame or assume the worst of intentions on the other person’s part. It means asking what someone meant before accepting the story we’ve already crafted in our own minds as the truth and accusing them accordingly. It’s defaulting to compassion instead of blame and approaching all things from the realization that none of us is fully able to be our best selves right now, as much as we’d like to be; that, whether or not we’re willing to admit it, we’re all a tad sluggish and confused, cranky and scared; that 2020 hasn’t been kind to any of us.

So let’s not leave grace at the Thanksgiving dinner table this year. Let’s spread it near and wide, like the Christmas cards of old, like the holiday cheer we wish we could invoke in person but will still have plenty of opportunities to conjure up in our many virtual spaces.

The Advent season we’re about to enter is all about waiting. Waiting for the much anticipated birth of a precious baby and so much more, of the manifestation of God’s dream of joy and abundance, peace and justice for ALL people and indeed for ALL of creation. Never have we known more about waiting, whether for Promised Lands or for simple human touch. God is with us. God understands our pain and yearning. And God’s grace covers every single thing we’ve said or done and regretted throughout our lives. But especially during this deeply trying time in human and natural history. God will gladly share that grace—abundantly–with each one of us. All we need to do is ask and set the intention for ourselves.Happy Thanksgiving, my friends.

May God’s grace, peace, and love be with each one of you and with all living things. Amen.

[1] https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/health-science/there-really-are-50-eskimo-words-for-snow/2013/01/14/e0e3f4e0-59a0-11e2-beee-6e38f5215402_story.html

Remembering Our Saints

by Victoria S. Ubben

Halloween 2020, will be a Halloween like no other in the history of the USA. These really are frightening times for our nation and the world. We need not encourage our children and grandchildren to be “spooked” by ghosts and goblins and vampires and bats this year.

Our family knows personally of several people who have died recently from Coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19), and perhaps your family does, too. (Thankfully, we also know of some who have recovered from COVID-19.) Besides remembering lives lost by COVID-19, this is the time to remember other lives lost due to violence, accidents, or various illnesses and other conditions.

I offer you three ways that you might find comfort in your distress.

1. Music might help.  To help me remember all of the saints who have died this year, I recently to listened to a recorded version of Requiem in D minor, Op. D by Gabriel Faure’ (1845-1924) and I share with you a link to a video so that you can hear it also.

Here is an English translation of some of the Latin lyrics that are comforting and uplifting during what is a sad or frightening time to many people:

“May eternal light shine on them, O Lord,
with Thy saints forever,
because Thou are merciful.

Grant them eternal rest, O Lord,
and may perpetual light shine on them.”

2. Inspirational Prose might help. To help us remember all the saints who have died this year, find some prose or poetry with strong visual images. Here is one of my favorites:

Gone from My Sight by Henry Van Dyke (1852-1933)

I am standing upon the seashore.  A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.  She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

 Then someone at my side says, “There, she is gone!” 

“Gone where?”  Gone from my sight.  That is all.  She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear the load of living freight to her destined port. 

Her diminished size is in me, not her.  And just at the moment when someone at my side says: “There, she is gone!”  There are other eyes watching her coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: “Here she comes!” 

And that is dying.

3. Biblical readings and liturgy might help. To help us remember all the saints who have died this year, turn to the ancient scripture, liturgy, and religious traditions. Try reading these aloud (either alone or 6 feet apart from others). Here is a benediction with which to close.

One Voice: With clean hands and pure hearts, hold fast to the faith of the saints who went before us.

Many Voices:  In our living and in our dying, we all belong to God.

One Voice: With hopeful hearts and expectant spirits, receive the blessing of Almighty God.

Many Voices: In our living and in our dying, we all belong to God.

One Voice:  Thanks be to God!  Amen.

Right Now I Don’t Know How to Pray

by Deb Worley

“Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.” (Romans 8:26-27, NRSV)

There have been times in my life when I have not known how to pray. I don’t mean that I have not known “the formula” for prayer (for example, Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, Supplication) or the posture for prayer (for example, hands clasped, head bowed). I mean that I have not known how to pray–when attempts at Adoration turn into expression of anger and Thanksgiving feels hollow, when words cannot even be formulated and when a bowed head results only in tears….

Perhaps others of you have lived through these experiences as well. I suspect so… Perhaps others of you are even living through moments like these now, in these times in which we all find ourselves. There’s so much in our lives and in our world that continues to be uncertain, so much that can feel unsettling in our bodies, minds, and souls, so much that can lead us, perhaps, to feeling like we don’t know how to pray….

In those moments, in these moments, we can be grateful for the Holy Spirit. Or–well–maybe, if we are truly honest, not in those moments–those moments when we are overwhelmed with fist-shaking anger, free-flowing tears, mind-numbing confusion, heartbreaking despair, those moments when hope seems distant, when healing seems a desperate wish, when wholeness seems out of reach–maybe not in those moments…but perhaps outside of them, in the moments when the magnitude of those emotions has subsided, we can be grateful for the Holy Spirit. Perhaps because of those moments, we can give thanks for the Holy and ever-present Spirit of the Living God, who helps us and holds us and sustains us and stands in for us, interceding on our behalf with sighs too deep for words….

Thank you, Spirit of the Living God…because right now I don’t know how to pray…

Peace be with us all.

Deb

What Does It Mean to be Transgender in the UCC?

by Hailey Lyons

I never imagined I’d be here today. I mean that in the sense that I’m alive, and also a member of a local church. I certainly didn’t set out on my faith journey expecting to end up here, and I’m sure I won’t be able to predict where that journey takes me in the future, either.

My upbringing wasn’t particularly unique; there were thousands of Southern Baptist pastors’ kids running around America playing sports and teaching youth groups at the time, and I’m sure that’s still the case today. The brand of masculinity thrown at me by my parents was also pretty generic: “be tough and lead.” I got the tough part down by playing multiple sports and settling down on football by the time I got to high school. The leadership part wasn’t as obvious – I sincerely doubt I would’ve been allowed to preach Sunday sermons at our church as a child. And yet there I was, teaching youth classes and subbing in for the occasional adult group. When Dad moved to a different slide of his hour-long – if we were lucky – sermon I was the one to click to it in PowerPoint. When my older brother led us in worship, I made sure his guitar didn’t sound too pitchy and that his vocals were turned up.

I’d say I had a solid relationship with God: I had an active prayer life, did multiple run-throughs of the Bible a year, and regularly read through a bookshelf filled with works of apologists like Lee Strobel, Ken Ham, and Rick Warren. And yet I had the nagging feeling I was missing something.

And because I didn’t have the language, much less the understanding to express what was missing, I blamed my discomfort on sinfulness. I labeled myself as prideful and mysteriously afflicted by the struggle of theologically wrestling with God. Why not? This was the attitude taken by all the preachers I knew. It was easy to excuse a lack of certainty – or too much of it – on some kind of internal struggle with pride and trying to figure out God’s will.

As a college student, my eyes were opened to the myriad experiences of humanity all around me. Arizona State University’s Tempe campus is – outside of COVID-19 season – a vibrantly diverse world unto itself.

It wasn’t long before I found that a good portion of my friends were members of the LGBT community, some more open than others. Some more religious than others too, and that really bothered me. Why did my Calvinist, Evangelical faith demand I view everyone as totally and indelibly depraved and unable to do any good outside the direct divine intervention of God Almighty? Why was it that the doctrine of predestination meant God wasn’t going to let some people go to heaven?

Layers and layers peeled back slowly and painfully. It took 3 years of deep questioning, pretending to be someone I wasn’t, and listening to the experiences of people around me. As a college ministry leader and youth teacher, half of my life was devoted to being on the church campus and “doing life” with other members. We were all trying our best to “work through our own salvation,” and the theological methodology was irrevocably tainted with shame and suffering.

Knowing what the consequences would be – largely because I’d gotten to know leadership’s orientation toward the LGBT community firsthand – I left my home church. It hurt worse than anything I’d ever experienced, and I felt like I’d wasted those 3 years. I didn’t want to lose the friends I’d made, or the community I’d helped build, or that indescribable feeling I used to get, arriving late to service and hearing 200 voices lifted up in corporate worship.

But the fact is that I didn’t waste that time. And while I lost friends, community, and a particular liturgy, I found something that made it all worth it: myself.

When I walked through the doors at Desert Palm UCC in Tempe, Arizona, my first impression was absolute shock. My former church had made a point of approaching newcomers, but the sheer amount of open love that I felt from everyone was mind-blowing.

It also helped doing research prior to even driving into the parking lot. When one looks up open and affirming churches or, as I did, look through a network like Gay Church, there are a lot of options that pop up around Tempe. Most are denominationally affiliated, with a few outliers that either unequivocally support the LGBT community in their faith statement or keep it intentionally vague.

A few things struck me immediately after looking into the UCC:

  • A clearly labeled, congregational polity
  • Engaged in Social Justice initiatives since its foundation
  • A comprehensive, Open and Affirming message without loopholes

And yet, even knowing this didn’t prepare me for the warm welcome I received.

In the weeks that turned into months of attending Desert Palm, I found people who respect my pronouns without question. People who were genuinely curious about my faith journey without asking me to conform my theology to some incredibly narrow faith statement.

So, what does it mean to be transgender in the UCC?

It starts with a warm welcome.

Since coming to Desert Palm, I’ve had the privilege to work on our new college and young adult ministry aimed at bringing the UCC’s message of radical love and commitment to social justice to Arizona State University by engaging with students in a way that doesn’t demand conversion or attendance at weekly propaganda meetings disguised as bible studies. We’re here to engage a diverse community with extravagant welcome that enables today’s youth to explore their faith journeys without fear.

Being transgender in the UCC is a blessing of welcome and safety, and an opportunity to further a Just World for All.

Breaking Away

by Victoria S Ubben

Ecclesiastes 3:1 reminds us that, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.”  Is there a season for a pandemic?  Is there a time for Covid-19?  Is there a time when this social-distancing and mask-wearing will end?

As I spend time during this Covid-19 pandemic reflecting on more than 32 years of ordained ministry with the United Church of Christ, there is always some sorrow as one ministry concludes, and another begins. 

image credit: Doug Ross, multimedia journalist

I resigned from a pastoral team at a church that I had been serving for seven-and-a-half years in 2013 because (1) that “season” had ended and (2) God was calling me and some other ministers to try a new sort of ministry in our city.  The purpose of this new calling was to launch a parachurch ministry to reach and serve the rapidly growing number of people who were choosing not to engage in traditional churches. Our downtown-based ministry was called “BreakAway” because it did not sound like a name of a church.  We rented space upstairs, above a popular restaurant, right across the street from our county courthouse, in a place that did not look like a church. “BreakAway Ministry” began gradually in 2013, was full-time by 2015, and then (as quickly as we had begun) we were called on to something new.  By 2016 this season for this unique downtown ministry had come to an end; God’s still-speaking voice had called me onward to a new form of ministry in rural Indiana.

Moving out of our rental space, shutting down a Facebook page, obtaining a new email address, dis-assembling our webpage, printing hard copies of a three-year inspirational blog, thanking our donors, and saying “good-bye” to those who had shared a BreakAway journey with us… carried significant sorrow.  What was once effective and worthwhile, no longer could be “packaged” in the same way.  BreakAway lived for three years and sustained countless people on a spiritual journey who may never find their way back to the organized church again.  Our memories of a three-year ministry (2013 to 2016) are always tinged with joy and gladness as we reflect on them now.

image credit: Doug Ross, multimedia journalist

The Covid-19 pandemic has changed us.  Some of what once was, shall never return.  Parts of what used to work in our lives and in ministry may not work now…or in the future.  Could it be that God reminds us through this pandemic that pieces of what was meaningful, effective, and useful in the not-so-distant past…are already gone?  With God’s grace, we shall move through this pandemic and onto new ways of doing things.  This season of a pandemic teaches us that sometimes we must break away from the way things used to be… and make some bold, new discoveries in this moment in time.  In just 6 months of this pandemic, many of our churches (and various ministries) already have changed and adapted.  Will we ever be the same again?  Probably not.

Look to Jesus as our example; his ministry adapted to the situation in which he found himself.  He certainly broke away from the religious establishment of his day and he met people where they were, and in the ways that he could.  Jesus met with lepers, tax collectors, and prostitutes (to name a few).  He met them on a mountain, by the river, on a lake, and in an upper room.

image credit: Doug Ross, multimedia journalist

There is a season.  There is a time.  There are people waiting…here and now…to hear God’s word of grace and peace.

Prayer for this season:  Oh God, you are the One who enables us to break away from whatever holds us back.  Enable us to adapt in the ways that we must during this pandemic so that what we do glorifies you and uplifts other people along the way.  Amen.