The Safety Net

I was surprised to see Bess in our afternoon worship on Pentecost. She does not come to my services very often, citing that she loves the church she attends.  I am always happy to hear that people are able to attend their own churches. However,  I also know the day does come when that attendance becomes irregular, and may even fade. For Bess that day may have been yesterday.  I know she has some health concerns, and she  said she was not feeling well to get up early enough to get there.

What she is experiencing is what I call a conversion to vulnerability. This conversion, however willingly or unwillingly we undertake, lies at the heart of many life experiences, and certainly in those that occur during the last third of our lives.  My own conversion began last year when I agreed to serve a congregation during their pastor's sabbatical leave.  Becoming a part of a community does make us vulnerable to being known.  Showing up each week, getting to know the people, learning new ways of worship, and daring to make the decision to show up in love, gifted me with a sense of having no place to hide my faults and shortcomings. 

I returned to that community in June, and this coming Sunday they will vote to officially call me as their part-time associate pastor, a position I believe I am well suited for. Yes, that sense of vulnerability is still very much with me. Yet, I believe that is a good thing, for it leads me rely on Christ all the more.  I do not have a sense of arrival, because our pilgrimages are ongoing.  What I do have, however, is even more precious: a sense of belonging.  I deeply believe I am called here to grow, and to grow with others.  

  

I sense Bess is reluctant to join the Sunday afternoon services that are held in the retirement community where she lives.  There is probably more than one reason.  The theology may be different. I am sure she has friends in her  faith community that she loves, and she may have a role in that community that she may have to relinquish to others.  She may even think of it as a defeat, viewing our services as services for the old and frail rather than a lively, faith-filled congregation.  I think a bigger worship team of various ages might be of help, not only here, but in other communities as well. We do need to expand our volunteer base to strengthen what I think of as our divine safety net.  Joined together, we really can help prevent people from falling into the despair of isolation and loneliness.    

 

I did not preach on the conversion to vulnerability that Sunday, but rather on the hope that Pentecost can bring if we trust the Spirit of Truth that continues to bring us together.  Elizabeth and her son joined us well, and I was delighted to see them.  Elizabeth seems to have come to terms with her illness, and in fact gives it credit for helping her draw closer to her family.  She has matured in and with her vulnerability; an example that we all can learn from. 

 

The pilgrimage continues.  Come join us when you can. We are all stronger when we come together.