I started as the Director of the Stewardship Leaders Program at Luther Seminary on March 23, 2020. I came in for my first day to an empty seminary. I had the odd experience of having all of my interviews in-person, receiving my job offer while still working in-person at my previous job, and then in the week and a half between jobs – a period I had hoped would be a relaxing time of transition – the world changed. My boss met me, gave me my computer, showed me my office, and instructed me to work the rest of the day from home. We agreed that things would blow over soon and we’d all be back in the office together in a few days, maybe a few weeks. I then met with an HR team member who was dressed in makeshift PPE – multiple surgical masks and gloves – she sat on one end of an 8ft table shooting paperwork down to me from one end which I then signed and shot back down to her. I then proceeded back home. Little did I know that I wouldn’t return to campus to work in my office regularly for nearly a year and a half.
The following year and half was one of the darkest in my faith journey and, irony of ironies, I was just hired as a faculty member at a seminary. I had the experience so many faith leaders before me have had – teaching others about faith, church leadership, and stewardship – during a personal season of doubt. During the spring of 2020 it felt like the news just kept getting worse and worse. It seemed like the more we learned the less we really knew – creating more anxiety and confusion in the midst of all the suffering. Despite having an amazing network of family and friends, a loving spouse, and a brand-new network of kind, encouraging colleagues, I had never felt more isolated or alone. And then in the midst of all of this, George Floyd was killed just a few miles away from my Minneapolis apartment.
My only prayer during this time was that the God of the Bible would show up. I desperately wanted God to bring widespread healing to the world, to calm our anxieties, to gather up the grieving and wounded in God’s loving embrace, and to bring peace, justice, and reconciliation to our broken world. Where was God? Had God turned away from us in our time of need?
I know I wasn’t alone in these feelings of isolation and desperation. So many church leaders felt this way during the pandemic, and many share these feelings still today, as we sort through the trauma we experienced, face declines in attendance and finances, and discern who God has called us and our congregations to be in this time and place. It is easy to wonder if God has broken God’s promises, if God has left us in our time of need, and if it is all our fault.
I finally reached out to my pastor in early summer and admitted to her that I had been struggling with my faith. She held space for me and listened with curiosity, withholding judgment. When I finally reached the end of my monologue she said something I never expected: “I hear you are looking for God to show up in big ways right now, but what if God is showing up in the small things instead?” I cringed. Small things, really? Who needs small things right now when our needs are so big? But, I decided to reluctantly heed her advice to look for little signs of God’s presence. Little did I know how much this small step would change my life and my faith.
I began practicing the Ignatian Prayer of Examen which starts with reflecting back through your day to notice signs of God at work. Lucky for me, flowers were beginning to bloom in Minneapolis and I could see this growth from my apartment window – an unmistakable sign of God’s creativity. I began to see God in the well-timed calls and texts I received from family and friends, in waves and smiles from strangers on the street, in conversations with colleagues and students. On the days when I struggled to identify God’s presence, I went back through my day looking for love because God is love (1 John 4:8). I began to see God at work in people and places I would never have imagined.
Just as I was emerging from my dark night of the soul, the world began to open up again and I began a research project on more sustainable models for ministry. I never imagined that God might weave these two pieces of my story together, and yet I watched in awe as God used this project to enliven my faith journey unveiling a tapestry of big and small miracles across the 101 congregations my research team and I had the privilege to connect with. Over the two years of research and writing, I stood in awe, wept, and gave thanks. I emerged with a call to proclaim a message: “While some churches may be experiencing decline, God is not in decline and the gospel is not in decline. God is alive and at work in the church and in the world today, in ways we could never expect or imagine.” I watched how financial decline served as a catalyst for congregations to reconnect with God and their neighbors to live out God’s mission in new ways. This wasn’t about church survival for the congregations we studied, it was about loving God, loving neighbors, and making disciples. This wasn’t about church sustainability, it was about finding new, and often unexpected ways, of being sustained by God’s Spirit. God was making ways where there seemed to be no way – God’s speciality. The God of the Bible that I had cried out for years before was showing up and showing off.
As I look back now nearly five years after my dark night of the soul began, I continue to be amazed at the profound impact of the conversation with my pastor in June 2020. I have continued my daily practice of examen. It has helped me reconnect with God through nature whether it was hiking the hills and valleys of Afton State Park with my spouse during the pandemic, snowshoeing to waterfalls on Minnesota’s north shore, or standing in awe of God’s creativity as I explore the mountains and beaches in my new home on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State. It has helped me ask new questions about God’s work in my neighborhood and community as I moved from the big city (Minneapolis, Minnesota) to a small town (Allyn, Washington). Most of all, it helped me see sparks of the Spirit immediately as I stepped into my new congregation: Christ Lutheran Church in Belfair, WA. It is a small, aging congregation with about 35 attendees in the sanctuary or on Zoom, yet God is at work in incredible ways. I see God’s presence in the warm, authentic hospitality of the congregation members, in their resilience through seasons of transition and change, and in the multitude of ways they have listened deeply to the needs of their community and responded. This small, but mighty, congregation serves over 80 children in their community through their childcare program and collaborates with other neighboring churches to feed over 160 food insecure children and their families each week – even on school breaks.
As we look at our congregations, I think it’s easy to see what we lack. It’s easy to compare our current ministry to another era of our church’s history. But, what if we took the time to stop and look for signposts of God’s presence in our congregations and in our community today? What if we are so focused on the big ways we want God to show up in this moment (as I was during the pandemic), that we are missing the small sparks of the Spirit right in front of us? May God grant us the patience to slow down and the awareness to notice all that God is already doing in our midst.
