Wait For It

When I was thirteen, the days seemed so much longer, and the school year seemed like a decade. I desperately wanted a five-o’clock shadow (still hasn’t happened, thankfully!), and to be a few inches taller. And I remember so many people, especially adults, saying, “Don’t worry, you won’t be thirteen forever!” I found a lot of solace in watching The Wonder Years, because Kevin Arnold seemed to be able to sum up my frustrations so well.

The adults were right. In time, many of my concerns faded.  But that didn’t eliminate the wait. The only way to get through your teenage years is to live through them.

I think these Covid-19 days are an adolescence for our congregations.  They aren’t gonna last forever, but they also aren’t gonna disappear quickly.  And they are a transition. We are gonna have to begin giving up some things that have been so pivotal to our formation in order to grow into what we will become.

We are children of space, and touch, and frequency. Our very identity is bound up in worship space. What is church, if it isn’t in our familiar meetinghouse, under familiar shade, sitting in a familiar pew? What is church, if it doesn’t include hugging our neighbors, or rubbing our fingers on a crisp bulletin, or gripping an offertory plate or communion cup, or singing and speaking in unison? What is church if it doesn’t include regular meals around folding tables, or conversations with mediocre coffee and powdered creamer, or parking lot chit-chat? Are there really other rhythms that can awaken the divine, inspire justice, and actualize love?!?  And if there are, do we really have to go through all that trouble to find the new, when the old was working so well?!?

This transition to virtual space is as jarring as moving to middle school with its lockers, and changing class schedules, and new responsibilities and accountability. The change is awkwardly-exciting. And in new space, it’s not the “not-yet” that gives us comfort (please excuse my double negative!), but rather the “has been” that soothes our thoughts.  Churches want to leave the “has been” about as much as Wendy wants to leave the nursery.

In the days ahead – this time of waiting – yes, let’s celebrate what has been. But let’s also glean the Spirit of creation that formed our sacred rhythms. That Spirit hasn’t gone anywhere. It keeps working, even in, especially in adolescence.

I’ll let you in on a secret. The Spirit, working through people, and people sharing that experience with one another, is what makes church church (and Church). In other words, it’s not the space, nor the activity, nor the bad coffee in a Styrofoam cup that leads to transformation. It’s the Spirit.  And when the Spirit is manifested, I promise Zoom-rooms, video-karaoke, and driveway visits can also be enzymes for divine awakenings, inspired justice, and actualized love.

Wait for it, friends, the Spirit is at work!   (And if you need some burned coffee, stop by office anytime!)