I’ve been here in St. Louis for two days now because of some committee responsibilities and it is hard to imagine that we are here and ready to get started. We have been talking about this special called conference for a long time. And a big part of me really just wants to be on the other side. To know what the answer will be. To know what everyone needs to do next.
But between now and then, there is an awful lot to do.
There will be disagreements.
There will be harmful words.
There will be tears and laughter.
There will be frustration.
There will be moments we get mired down in the minutiae of Robert’s Rules instead of the movement of the Holy Spirit.
But I also know and am surrounded with glimpses of holiness and resurrection and hope.
I’ve shared meals and broken bread with colleagues from across the world as we talk about what we see and experience in our local churches and the hopes we have there. I hear all around me the excitement of disciple-making and the way people have been pushed into having deeper conversations and engagement with scripture because of this work. We all know that the church will be forever changed by whatever happens… and we know that God is doing and will continue to do amazing things in our communities and that work does not stop because the institution makes a decision. We are surrounded by fields of ministry, just waiting to be harvested.
I’ve stopped and talked with a few homeless guys on the streets. It’s not as cold as it is back in Iowa, but the air is still frigid. As I think about our local church work with Joppa, I’ve been ever more aware of these neighbors among us who so often are disregarded and avoided. So I’m pushing myself to stop and listen and look these folks in the eyes. It was good to be able to share my leftover pizza with Ben and to talk about the day with Clint. We are surrounded by people who long to be seen and to know that God loves them… whether they are homeless, or speak another language, or because of their gender identity or sexual orientation.
I’ve spent more time than I should on my phone… but facebook and twitter and email has been filled with an outpouring of love and support and encouragement. I’ve read posts that really are more like love letters to their denomination – urging us to be the best we can be and reminding us of who we are. I’ve read posts from colleagues from other denominations who just want to let us know that they are in prayer for us. Even some of my fellow gym members have reached out with encouragement and prayers, even though we haven’t ever talked about more than deadlifts and insane cardio. I’ve had people reach out to ask how they can offer support from afar and even had a care package show up in my hotel room from our fledgling, ecumenical “millennial minister” group in Des Moines. We are surrounded by people who are praying with us and who will walk with us long after this conference is over.
And I’m amazed at how quickly relationships form and friendships that sustain time and distance are born. I went up in the St. Louis Arch this morning with members of my Committee on Reference – this quiet little committee that had such important work to do this year. We bonded in a unique way over those days and it was wonderful to have some fun together. But I also have had time to visit and greet and hug people that I served with at General Conference in 2016, or the North Central Jurisdictional Committee on the Episcopacy, or Global Ministries, and as we looked across the room we saw those familiar faces and had to reach out. I even chatted for a few minutes with a colleague from Iowa with whom I disagree about desired outcomes from this weekend and our desire to remain friends no matter what happens… but what it has reminded me is that we are surrounded by love and compassion and grace, even if/when we aren’t sure we agree about who and what the church should be about.
