All during COVID, Sunday morning traditions have been in upheaval. Pre-Covid, I would wake early and get to the church about 7:30am in time for our 8am worship service. My rituals included unlocking all the doors, making sure the heat or AC was on, and making sure the lights were on and ready to greet people. I drove over most days so that someone would know that the church was open by seeing my car in the parking lot. Our 8am worship was only about a half-hour long, and it was pretty low key with no music. I never knew how many to expect – 2 or 12 on a Sunday morning. 9am brought the choirs in for rehearsals before the 10am worship. Whether it be bells or vocal, the sanctuary was a happening place. 10am brought the start of ‘worship and song.’ This was our service that we broadcast on You Tube.
Sunday morning was more than just the time we gathered for worship. It was a time when our church family came together. It was a time for all of us, imperfections and all would be welcomed, cared for and loved on just as we were taught to by Jesus. Was it perfect? No. It had something about it though that our secular families don’t have: expected vulnerability.
I wrote previously about 2 Corinthians 12 – where we hear “my grace is sufficient for you.” Our faith expects us to be vulnerable with God. People often tell me: “I can’t say that to them.” “My parents don’t know this about me.” “If my spouse knows this, they won’t love me anymore.” Vulnerability is one of the hardest skills that we have in our tool box. It is one of the hardest skills that families navigate as the family being grows. Some are better at this skill than others, and it shows in their familial relationships. From the get-go though, in our faith, we are asked, invited, expected, and challenged to say, “Jesus, I need you. I need your strength. I need your love. Your grace is enough for me.” Our relationship with Jesus begins with vulnerability. Our entrance into the family of God begins with acts of confession and moves us to understanding unconditional love.
Now, don’t get me wrong: I love my family. I love my in-laws. I love those in my chosen family. I love my church family! As a pastor, I get to say that a lot, but I mean it to my core. I’ve served 5 congregations now (1 as a student, 4 as a sent pastor). In every congregation, I recall sacred moments where God brought the most random group of people together for moments of grace. I recall baptisms and communions. I remember trips and mission experiences. I give thanks for hospital moments and meals around the table. I praise God for Sports Illustrated with a youth who had just had surgery and euchre with a senior in the nursing home. Yes, as a pastor, I have the sacred trust of being with people at their most vulnerable. I have found however that when I am vulnerable, and human, that I am the most successful is sharing the gospel that I preach. When I am vulnerable not only with the congregation but also with God, I am at my best as I serve in the name of the risen Christ.
That best looks like familiarity, not only with one another but also with our faith. I believe that faith is something that needs to be a part of our everyday lives; even if we don’t understand exactly how it works. That familiarity breeds normalcy – something that we all need these days. Normalcy though shouldn’t be the end goal of our faith lives. I don’t ever want a faith that is in a rut – one that can be completed by checking off the right boxes. I want a normal faith for me, for my spouse and for our family that leaves us turning to God just as we would anything else in our lives. I want a normal faith that we are so familiar with that we lean on it during times of grief and frustration just as we might food or other comforts. I want a normal faith that isn’t so shocking when I wear my “this pastor loves you (pride) shirt.”
This is something that I find in my congregations; especially in my current one. I’ve said all along that I would choose this church if we were looking for a church home. There is something unique and special about this random group of people that come together for worship and deepening their own relationships with Jesus. There is something powerful about the collective vulnerability of this church that truly loves unconditionally. There is only one expectation – that you come eagerly to your faith journey open to the movement of the Holy Spirit.
I was really hoping the preacher this morning would come to worship in this costume. This was taken in 2017 in the church office. There is an old church t-shirt that says, “a lovable bunch of misfits” as it speaks of this church. I’ve been praying about revisiting this theme for 2022. As we look to our new normal, what are the themes and values that are most important to us? If we have learned anything during COVID, it is that we are all human. We are all vulnerable to the world around us. We are responsible for one another. This life can no longer be about us – our narrow points of view. This sounds like Kingdom Living to me!
Next Sunday, I plan on worshipping in person with my congregation. It will be awkward and even a bit weird. I can hear it now: “The pastor is here, can I talk to her?” My renewal leave is until November 27. I’m willing to face the weird as a leader in faith. I know what my soul needs today. I know that on All Saint’s Sunday, there is no other place that I want to be this year. I need to give God thanks for the lives of so many, especially our grandmas. I need to do it with our church family, surrounded by the people who love Jesus just like I do.
Facing the Storm with Faith 