I wish you had been there. Really. I wish you all had been shoehorned into the basement at Trinity, with far too many people in the room and a ceiling that was way too low and a level of conversational noise that made it difficult to hear the person sitting one chair away. I wish you had felt the excitement in the room and heard the passion in voices as representatives of our table groups spoke to the larger group. I wish you had been there to wonder with us—to imagine what our diocese can be—to look toward our future together in a way that was grounded in faith, led by the Spirit and focused on living Christ in this world.
Yesterday was the second of three deanery-based visioning days that Bishop Mary is leading in our diocese. Last Saturday was the central coast; next week is the far south; yesterday was our own valley. We gathered at Trinity—probably at least 150 of us—a little before ten. We were randomly seated—by draw of the name tag—at tables of eight to ten people. Bishop Mary began the day by talking about why we were gathered. She said she’s been asked many times what her plans are for the diocese—how she plans to change us—and what in the world she meant by calling us to a year of wonder. She encouraged us to stop thinking about what it might be like to wonder and simply relax into a process of consciously wondering what God might have in store for us and to remember that wondering is a spiritual discipline that helps us access the seen and unseen of God. She said that she couldn’t set our mission by herself, that our mission is our joy and God’s joy coming together for action. She emphasized that both our joy and our action are critical parts of our mission, and that we need to begin our work together by identifying what gives us joy, as well as learning to think about Christianity as a verb—similar to Google, a noun that has become an action verb. She invited us not to focus on change but to wonder about becoming more of who we are and doing more of what we love.
After Bishop Mary’s introduction to the day, we began getting to know each other by going around the table and responding to four questions:
Then we separated into pairs and were asked to tell each other about a time when we got to share what we really love to do with others or about an experience of mission that left us feeling really good about being a member of our church. After we had told each other our stories, we came back to the table and shared the highlights with the rest of the people. As we listened to each other, we looked for the common threads and connections in our stories. Then a person from each of our tables reported on those common threads to the entire group. We heard great descriptions of creativity, relationship and mission. As we listened, the energy level in the room kept increasing, and I could almost see people thinking—wondering—dreaming how an idea they had just heard might play out in their own church—in their own life.
During our lunch, the energy level stayed high. Conversations bloomed as people sought each other out to hear more about the ideas that had been shared. When we reconvened, Bishop Mary asked us two more questions:
Again, we talked around our tables, then reported out to the larger group. At the table where Dee Spence and I were sitting, one person pointed out that we tend not to ask people what they would love to do as members of our parish families. Instead, we tend to present them with a list of the ministries we have and ask them to pick one. As we talked, I found myself wondering—yes, wondering—what St. Mark’s would be like if each of us said, “This is what I love to do, and I’m going to find a way to share that with other people.” About that time, we started reporting out from the tables to the larger group. What would we look like if we brought what we do well and love into greater focus? The responses were marvelous—in the best sense of the word. We would look a lot younger and happier. We would look like revolutionaries. We would look like a church without walls. We would look like the people God means for us to be.
We also listed the objections to being a better church than we already are. We would need to change. We would need to change. We would need to change. There were other words to describe that objection, but they pretty much boiled down to those five words: we would need to change. As we spoke about the difficulty of changing from ways that are comfortable and comforting to us, Bishop Mary asked if we are willing to give up things in order to become more of who we are and more of what God has made and is making us to be. She reminded us that what we have is not our creation, that we are only the vehicles for God’s action in the world.
Toward the end of the day, I began to have flashbacks to November. On the day before Bishop Mary’s ordination, Presiding Bishop Katharine led a diocesan group in a meditation on the words from today’s gospel: “This is my child, the Beloved, with whom I am well-pleased.” She asked us to consider what it means that we are each the beloved child of God. She asked us to imagine that God loves us as we are, with our sins, with our warts and freckles, just as we are. She asked us to believe that God created each of us as we are and wants us to be the people we are. As I listened to Bishop Mary yesterday, I was reminded of Katharine’s words.
God made us as we are, not as we might wish we were. God doesn’t expect that we will be perfect but somehow manages to work through us, through the gifts we are given and in spite of—or perhaps even through—our brokenness and imperfection. When we trust in God’s care for us, when we act in confidence of God’s love, when we look for the intersection of God’s joy and our joy, a miraculous thing happens. We can let go of our need for certainty and begin to wonder. We can begin to reach out to others in curiosity rather than fear. We can become more of who we are and do more of what we love. And we can respond to the questions of our Baptismal Covenant: “I will, with God’s help.”
Thanks be to God.