Midweek Message April 24, 2024

I was dropping my kid off at school this morning when I passed another young person. They were having a heartfelt conversation with their rainbow stuffy bear. I didn’t overhear much, and I didn’t want to eavesdrop, but I was struck by the tenderness, the trust, and the courage in the words. I don’t remember much of what it was like to pull open the school doors and plunge into another day of first grade or fifth grade (or even tenth grade!) but I heard a bit of my own prayers in those words. I don’t know if that child was excited or scared or anxious to be going back into school, or a little bit of all of those- but I was glad they had a friend with them.
 
Who do we reach for when we have to do something scary? How might we hold each other in the midst of challenge and change? I’m so grateful for the work our Bridge 141 Team is doing together, and I’m grateful for all the rich conversations on Wednesdays.
 
And.
 
Today I want to invite you to reflect on how you hold change, in your life and heart and spirit, and how change holds you. Is change a comforting stuffy, ready to stalwartly hold presence and care in the midst of upheaval? Is change the river you dip into each day, a little bit weary and a little bit excited? Are you running from change or running toward it or glancing at it from across the bar?
 
In Parable of the Sower, Octavia Butler imagines a religion that takes as a central precept: God is change. It’s an idea that has echoes in Process Theology and in other religious traditions as well. I love the way adrienne maree brown has claimed and shaped some of these God-is-change movements in Emergent Strategy and her other books.
 
I notice that I never reach for a stuffy until the lights are out. There’s some deeply human, not-particularly-conscious part of me that wants the simple comfort of the familiar, the soft, the snuggly. What would happen if I let the Spirit be my comfort in times of tremendous change? If I spoke to Her with the tenderness and faith of that kiddo this morning? “Give me strength.” “Help me choose.” “Bless us.” “Okay.”
 
And what if I turned to change with the same gentle trust that I bring to the One I Hold Closest? When structures are crumbling, when new possibilities aren’t just arising but are overwhelming, and when everything I’ve been assuming is called into question and transformed- to let go of my fighting stance, and take a deep breath. To shed a tear or two, and to snuggle into what is possible.
 
Jonna Gilham said it at the Sacred Earth Fair: “When we lose hope, we lose momentum.” But what is Hope hasn’t lost us? What if She is waiting in our arms, wise and change-embracing like a rainbow bear stuffy?

Davi