Beloved

As I sat behind a camera operator during our worship service one Sabbath, I witnessed something beautiful. 

A group of deacons walked from row to row passing a collection plate. Once the collection was complete, the deacons began to walk, single file, out of the sanctuary. None of that was particularly interesting since it happens every week. But then, instead of simply walking out of the sanctuary, as they passed the camera operator (a middle schooler), deacon after deacon gave him a pat on the back or a fist bump. I saw it start with someone who was old enough to be his father. And then it trickled throughout the rest of the team, some of whom were his peers.

I'm trying to articulate why I thought it was such a beautiful moment. I think part of it was the nurturing taking place. With each connection, there seemed to be an affirmation of him and what he was doing. From what I know of him, if asked about his role he would probably say, “Yeah, it's no big deal. I'm happy to help.” And still each pat on the back, each fist bump, must have felt good. While the names or faces of the deacons who affirmed this young man may fade in his memory, the good feeling of the moment will likely stick.

This beautiful moment was also a reminder. One of the biggest challenges about being part of a church is that it doesn't always feel good. We are still very human beings going through our own rhythms, issues, joys, and pains. And we’re not always able to clearly articulate what we're experiencing in a way that will help someone understand why we feel to them the way we feel in that moment. 

It's easy to be a community of pats on the back and fist bumps. It's difficult and yet necessary to still be a community when the affirmations fade into question marks and unsettled conversations. It's necessary for us to sit in that tension until the Holy Spirit releases us from it. A little release may come because the person with whom we've had the issue moves out of town. But, more than likely, the release fully comes because we've decided not to treat everyone as though they should get it all right all the time. We have to choose that daily. 

I enjoy reading the spiritual insights of Henri Nouwen. In one of his articles, he described three essential components of the life of discipleship: solitude, community, and ministry. Regarding solitude, he wrote: “[Solitude is] important because it is the place in which you can listen to the voice of the One who calls you the beloved…To pray is to let that voice speak to the center of your being, to your guts, and let that voice resound in your whole being.”*

I cannot pretend to know what you may need today, what sort of assurance will help you see a silver lining or how long of a listening ear would be a gift you long to receive. I cannot pretend to know what the Spirit wishes to speak to you today. And so I simply offer this, that you will find yourself able to allow your beloved status in the heart and mind of our Savior to carry you through—to celebrate with you in the back pats and fist bumps; to sit with you in the question marks; to hold you when frustration, sadness, and even despair fill your mind and heart. 

Beloved, may you find that truly who you are in Christ is enough to keep you. And to keep you always.

*Henri Nouwen, “Moving from Solitude to Community to Ministry,” Leadership 16, no. 2 (Spring 1995): 80-87.