Love is at wild work
Saying yes to possibility
A few months back, I told you about a faith community that made the bold decision to remove their pews to make room for younger generations to gather in flexible ways.
Guess what?!
They did it!
On March 9, we all walked into the space together and could hardly contain ourselves. We shimmered with the possibility of it all. Or maybe it was just the fumes from the new carpet. Either way — it felt good to be a part of something bigger than ourselves.
It felt great to feel our agency when so much in our country feels disempowering right now. Hey, we don’t know how to control that, but we can throw all our energy into unwrapping furniture and recreating a sacred space.
In the few short weeks since, a few fascinating things are unfolding.
The community is ALIVE. There are long-timers and new faces alike smiling and getting to know each other. There are new questions and an abundance of possible answers. There’s a sense of openness and curiosity.
It feels like someone flipped a switch.
It feels like we’re practicing the world we’re aching to see right now.
It feels like hope with skin on.
It’d be so easy if this was just about changing from pew to chairs. But it’s not. It’s about an entire generation of humans who said yes to literally and emotionally rearranging themselves so younger generations could find belonging in new ways.
Honestly, I’ve got a front row seat to watching my elders make a profoundly courageous choice. Instead of watching a community they love slowly die while fearfully clutching the familiar, they are choosing to release and trust. Which means they’re getting to watch the next thing come alive now.
But it’s all because of the choice they’re making every time they walk through the doors and choose to say hi to a new face. Each financial gift they share is investing in creative connections with our community. Each meeting where they steward the building, the land, and their resources is one step in handing off this community to the ones rising.
My heart grins as I watch them grow ever more curious about the new younger faces among them. They excitedly tell me something they learned about a new friend or how this other person can sing or play drums or run the computer or likes the same sports team as them.
Generational transition in all organizations is…bumpy. It’s the same in the church. Things get lost in translation all the time. I still stand in the middle and help each generation translate their intent and hopes and frustrations.
But (most days) I’m happy to stand in the middle of all this life change. Each generation holds different questions that are somehow also the same.
What is mine to do in this season?
What kind of world can we leave for the next crew?
How do we reconcile the harm in our world with the invitation to liberation of all?
I shared this with them on Easter morning:
“I’ll be honest, this is hard for me. I’ve been a little...apologetic, embarrassed, uncertain of the Jesus story in this past season. There’s a lot of people with big microphones attributing a lot of things to him that don’t sound like him. I’ve noticed how often I’ve wanted to slowly retreat from the crowd around Jesus and meander off into the woods. ‘No, I don’t know the guy...’
But then I hang out with you all. And I see Love everywhere. Encouraging you, healing you, welcoming you, loving you whole. It makes me draw closer to this Jesus story, sometimes against my own impulses.”
So my readers, here’s to all the ways Love is at wild work around, within, and around us.
Apparently Love actually is stronger than death.
Stronger than empires and fascist authoritarian leaders.
Stronger than despair.
Stronger than hate.
Stronger than our limited imaginations.
Stronger than what we see at first glance.
Stronger than our fear.
Let’s hold this life loosely. We’re all in it together. And Love may have a much better chance of dancing between us when we’re holding it all a bit more loosely.
May it be so.
Books
If you know someone navigating generational transitions, consider sharing this with them. We could all use some love.
This is beautiful, Jenny.