Forget your perfect offering.
Ring the bells that still can ring.
There is a crack in everything.
That’s how the light gets in.
I’ve heard from lots of folks this week that they are having a lot of different, sometimes conflicting, feelings after last week’s startup and Sunday service, but that these words in particular have been resonating with them.
I’ve found the same, and have been singing them to myself pretty frequently.
One of the things I’ve appreciated about these conversations is that they seem to carry a deep sense of a desire to be honest, to be really real, about how folks are feeling, and the things they’re struggling with.
It is hard sometimes to talk about our cracks, to be sure.
But when we can’t acknowledge them, or are unaware of them, they can’t be healed and the rest of the vessel grows more fragile still (just ask the West Seattle Bridge folks about cracks).
So I’m going to be working over the next few months to, each week, name and share a reflection on a particular crack, as I perceive and understand them.
May our seeking and speaking of the truth set us free.
I look forward to your feedback, and appreciate your moving with me and with one another, through this threshold, past this place of hiding cracks and into a space for trying to heal them.
I have often known the truth of something best when I hear it out loud and repeatedly this week I have heard people’s resolute belief that despite the cracks and the hard work ahead, that this congregation has the strength and the commitment to move together, seeking truth, in love.
The cracks are true. And so is the love.
One of the things we’ve lost in pandemic times is all of the displays of incidental love in the congregation, those displays that remind us of how we share this community in love.
When I look at the folks helping serve coffee, I know they are caring for us. When I see the ushers greeting newcomers and long-timers with warmth and a hug, I know they are caring for us. When I hear the choir rehearsing, trying so hard to get that final note just right, I know they are caring for our hearts and our spirits. When I see youth advisors sleeping on church floors and sitting up late into the night with a young person who is struggling, I know that they love what I love, that we are in this together.
So much of this continues on in so many ways. Our pastoral associates, our covenant groups, our staff, our RE and youth leaders (and especially the youth themselves), our finance and auction and stewardship teams, our RJCT, membership and worship teams, our board and nominating committees.
And there are so, so many more.
I have the astonishing privilege of sitting in the middle of all of this, of being reminded over and over each day of the ways that people are caring for this community, and I spend some of each day in prayer and gratitude for those folks.
In this challenging pandemic time, when we aren’t witnessing each week the commitment and love of others in this community, I invite you to take a moment to seek that perspective in your prayers or meditations.
To summon that feeling within yourself that you feel on a Sunday morning, of gratitude, of blessing, of appreciation, of companionship in our shared endeavour.
May we go blessed and blessing one another, this community and this world.