Regroup. Reimagine. Restructure. Recuperate.

 According to the rules you stand alone,
facing off against the larger number elbowed
into its bracket: divide and conquer.  But you
would throw the bracket open, walk right in,
persuading all those present to dance,
leading them outside under the trees to study
on the grass of a child’s better nature.  You
would always rather add than subtract;
would carry the one, on your shoulders if need be:
the bully-worn muggle with untied shoelaces,
the latchkey kids who pick every lock and find
their true home. They’d follow you anywhere.  You
should see all these people who used to be
third graders, gathered here to wish for one last
thing, for the life of you.  But this train has been
coming for us all, so long.  You stashed your
absolute values in a river of children that runs
to the sea, runs for good.  Now, take away one, you.
The remainder looks impossible.  How to begin  
the long division: these days ahead, all broken apart?
Now we set our shoes to the pavement of living.
Now you pass through the brick wall of this station
to enter the autumn air of a better nature.  You
altogether, one hundred percent.
        —“Long Division” by Barbara Kingsolver

This new year invites us to create bigger, wider, longer, more inclusive tables—even while the ongoing pandemic keeps us physically apart. This calling seems clear to me. But it also seems hard. And so much feels hard during this pandemic time. We have had to make lots of changes and sacrifices—some big and some small but none insignificant. We have had to turn on a dime. Regroup. Reimagine. Restructure. Recuperate. Our lives have changed—both quickly and gradually. And we will probably be processing this experience and these changes for years—even generations—to come.  I wonder how we will remember “Zoom Church” ten years from now as we gather in our sanctuary. I wonder how Clivie will describe these days to his children or grandchildren.
 

And make no mistake, church has forever changed. Of course, I don’t know how all the changes will settle out, but the boundaries of “church” have stretched. They have outstretched their elastic, and we are called to imagine a new shape for church—for worship, hospitality, mission, education, stewardship, evangelism, communications. What is the role of technology in this emerging shape of church? And how will it help us create those bigger, wider, longer, more inclusive tables?
 

I realize that a lot of what feels hard to me about all of this is grief. I certainly don’t grieve bigger and wider tables, but I do grieve the additional obstacles to creating those tables. Sometimes, all I see are obstacles. So, luckily for us, we are not alone. God helps us “throw the bracket open,” as Kingsolver says, and join forces with the creativity and community forever present in our lives. These forces offer life and hope—even as we face the obstacles. And I am grateful that when I get stuck, one of you offers a hand out of the mud.

See you in (zoom) church,  
Christy