This is a Good Thing

We thought we could do it. Our activism and proactive planning bore that out.

No longer.

Our ability and freedom to act as we think we should in order to build the Kingdom of God (or our own kingdoms?) has been severely curtailed.  The way to the future is now murky.  Attempts are being made by leaders to get back to what was, but those attempts aren’t bearing fruit.  They likely never will.

Perhaps this is a good thing. A gift from God.

We were reduced to digital reaches and initially were giddy at the potential.  However, the stats around actual engagement are dubious at best.  We could still connect personally, but that was reduced to small circles of family, neighbours and co-workers as pandemic rules allowed.  Our reach narrowed.  It was simplified.

Perhaps this is a good thing. A gift from God.

Previously our actions and even our prayers were a means of putting us in charge of the growth and the affairs of God’s Kingdom.  We planned, executed, made policy and processes, developed seminars, services and studies.  Activism. I dare say that even our prayers accompanying all those plans were assertive and even demanding of God.  Activist prayers.  And now, control is no longer in our hands.

Perhaps this is a good thing. A gift from God.

Could this be a time, now that so much of our previous power, control and freedom has been taken away from us, to reconnect with our identity as God’s servants, and begin to pray as Mary  - “let it be done to me (us) according to your word”.  That is a servant’s prayer, not that of the activist.  A prayer that asks God to make us the person(s) through whom He can reveal Himself and bring His will into being in this world.

Pray.

Wait.

Move when He prompts.

Sit when He is silent.

Be present in the moment.

Accept the daily bread as enough provision for the day, the moment.

Surrender control.

Like a servant.

Leaderships' Appetite for the Past

Leaders are about the future, right?  Well, don't be surprised that they often have a strong appetite for the past.

I'm observing a 'leeks and onions' moment among Christian leadership during this pandemic.  After the initial major adjustments to deliver services online there was a lot of discussion and even excitement around this being a 'moment' to re-think and reconfigure the very nature and mission of the Christian community (read: church).  Vision & dreaming was flourishing.

Now, note the conversations.  Seems those visions & dreams are now morphing into a focus on returning to normal.  This is where leadership energy is now predominantly focused.  Looking in the rear-view mirror to the leeks and onions of the past are proving too tempting.

The context for my 'leeks and onions' reference is clear to most Christian leaders.  But let me review:  When God lead an entire national community (Israel) out of their slavery in Egypt for a promised new existence, among leaders and followers there was the usual excitement, fear and uncertainty that accompanies change.   Then came the long haul process of actually getting to the new thing.  That's where things started to break down.  (We all love the rhetoric of change.  It's the execution that kills us!).  It was tough.  It was boring. It was tedious.  Kind of like our pandemic existence.  The people started hankering for what was: "We remember the fish we used to eat for free in Egypt. And we had all the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions, and garlic we wanted.". (Book of Numbers 11:5)

When challenge came on the way to the future, and it wasn't yet clear what that future would look like, the default human reaction was to not only to reminisce, but to long for a re-creation of the past.

Most of what I read lately from church leaders are plans and promises for how to return to gathering. Gone are references to previous visioning & discussions that the pandemic was an unprecedented opportunity to re-shape the Church.  Now its really about how to get back to what we were.

Leaders - are you about preserving what was or persevering into the future?  Show yourself.  Lead or follow. 

It's a leeks and onions moment.