“Turns out it is true that you can’t go home again…” I captioned my social media post of pictures from a quick trip to my hometown. It had been more than a dozen years since I had returned to the place that formed me through my teenage years and sent me out into the world.
When the invitation came to return to the church of my youth, I immediately knew I wanted to go. Yet, I was anxious about what the experience would surface.
While the story is sad, it is not unique. There are many factors; much complexity. Smaller families, an aging population, turmoil in the larger institutional structure-- many rural congregations are wrestling with questions of viability. Intellectually and culturally, I understand that data and trends. In my work as a regional pastor, I sat in discernment circles, met with pastors, and attended final services for congregations facing the end. To close a church is no small thing. And so I knew returning to the purple padded pews in northeastern Indiana would bring a swirl of emotions.
As I walked through the double doors, peeking in the window to my mom’s former office, I was reminded that it’s not just the congregation that has changed. I am no longer the same. Indeed, you can’t go home again.
And yet, that is how it should be. Throughout our lives we should all be growing and changing, maturing and evolving. Sometimes blossoming or stretching; perhaps at times mellowing or germinating. Always learning and somehow miraculously transforming.
And that is the heart of the gospel: transformation. Scripture gives us story after story of conversion, renewal and revolution. Those who are most challenged by their encounter with Jesus are those who are resistant to change. And it’s no wonder: embracing transformation requires releasing what has been. It requires venturing into something unknown. It requires trusting in the sacred mystery.
Sitting around the table with our plates piled high with the mash up of offerings from the church potluck line, I shared with some beloved congregants how grateful I am for their influence. It was because of their nurture, belief and confidence that I was able to claim my calling. It was their faithfulness, encouragement, and investment that taught me the value of Christian community. In the face of our shared pain and grief, I wanted to assure them that what they had been part of mattered.
Turns out significance, meaning, and impact aren’t measured by the longevity of an institution.
Consider:
What endings have turned out to be points of transformation in your life?
Where are the places in which you are longing for transformation?
What gift is your grief offering you in this season?
As we wind down summer, I am opening more spaces for soul care conversations.
If you or someone you know would like to explore a rhythm of spiritual direction, if you are wrestling with transformation or if you need some companionship in your reflection, you can schedule a virtual session here.