I Dream A Church

 Hold fast to dreams / For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird / That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams / For when dreams go
Life is a barren field / Frozen with snow.    
—“Dreams” by Langston Hughes  

I dream a church. I dream a church . . . that is constantly learning, attentive to the movement of the Holy Spirit, and open to change. A church that engages meaningfully with the world around it and strives earnestly to meet the needs of the wider community in tangible ways. I dream a church that is inquisitive and thoughtful and courageous and bold. A church that is full of wonder and awe. A church that has a sense of humor and isn’t afraid to laugh at itself.  
    
I dream a church full of noisy, squirmy kids ready to be challenged and curious, inquiring older adults ready to be challenged. And a church mindful of the spiritual needs of everyone in-between. I dream a church that is authentic, welcoming, generous, and full of questions. A church willing to step out on faith and try new things.  
    
I dream a church that is prepared to be loud and rebel-rousing and a church that is prepared to be quiet and contemplative. A church that deeply values diversity and eagerly stands up for someone entirely different from the “norm.” I dream a church enthusiastic to wrestle with difficult issues and to confront its own growing edges—issues surrounding technology, racism, the sources of rampant violence in our city, ways it can live more powerfully into its mission.  
    
I dream a church that values and nurtures leadership in its midst, calls out the best in people, recognizes and draws forth those gifts, and creates safe spaces for questions, doubts, struggles, and dreams. I dream a church that helps people come alive . . . ready to create a brighter, more hospitable, more gracious, more just world.  
    
What are your dreams for the church?

See you in church,
Christy 

We Are Never Alone

 “Goodbyes are as much a part of life as the seasons of the year. The story of gain and loss, of joy and sorrow, of life and death, of union and separation, is inside each one of us. The cycle begins at birth, when we are broken loose from our mother’s womb. Our forward movement gathered momentum until we pushed farewell and, with the throbbing burst of new life, cried hello again to a vastly different world. The cycle continues throughout our lives. Who of us has not said farewell to someone and felt a great heartache and a deep sadness. . . ?”    
—from Praying Our Goodbyes by Joyce Rupp


The ministry we have shared over the past 10 years has been incredibly rich and fulfilling. I have grown much and learned a lot from you. I am tremendously grateful for each and every one of you! And I pray that in this transition time you will intentionally create space for gathering your creativity and strength, allow your hopes and ideas to ripen, and envision life-giving ways to step into this new season of your ministry. Do not rush. Do not fear. You have so much to offer the community. Your wide welcome is so desperately needed. Your partnerships with others make bold proclamations about how God moves and works in the world. Your ministry is powerful and inspiring.
    
Sunday, August 13, will be my last Sunday serving as your pastor. And while this parting does bring me sadness, it also brings me hope. And I will celebrate you that day—and in the days that follow! Even though I will not be physically present with you as your pastor, I will always hold you—and your new pastor—in prayer. Between now and August 13, I will continue to serve you and accompany you on our spiritual journeys. I will continue to remind you that no matter how deep a sense of loss we may experience, God is always our powerful companion. God is our source of courage, vision, hope, and direction. As we each move forward, let us do so in the deep knowledge that we are never alone.

See you in church,
Christy