A Sewing Machine and Ministry

My mother’s sewing machine was a mainstay of our home when I was growing up.  It was at that machine that many of my clothes were made from hand-me-downs and recycled Goodwill clothing, repairs and patches were administered to well loved wardrobe items, my sisters’ wedding gowns were crafted, several sets of drapes were assembled and later repaired, the sails for my brother’s boat were repaired, and the dress my mother wore to
my wedding was created.  The walnut case – assembled at a factory in the early 1900’s – was a  constant reminder of memories of good times, challenging times, sad times. It was a piece of furniture I received from my brother with great joy.  This I would treasure in my own home; I would use it to create and repair clothing and household items, as well as for my own memory-making. 

But my brother had stored it for 5 years in his basement.  The moisture from that Connecticut River Valley home had caused the walnut veneer to mold, buckle, and peel. The varnish finish was checked from hot summers on Cape Cod.  The machine within this case was still fully functional with a little fine tuning; but the case in which it was housed was in serious danger of being non-useable. Something needed to be done about the case, but I was conflicted about how to proceed.  To re-veneer and refinish the case would decrease its historic value; to do nothing would also diminish its value.  It was not as it used to be and, it seemed, it could never be like that again.  Change had happened and was yet to happen, and there was no course of action that I could take to avoid some type of loss.  Yet the promise – and challenge – of renewal and rebirth engaged me.

The state of the Church, to me, is very much like the status of my mother’s sewing machine.  We are in a time of major transition, and change is not something we do well.  Often when faced with limited choices we find conflict and grief are more comfortable than change.  We know things will never be the same, but we have great difficulty knowing how to proceed into God’s future. 

Ministry happens when the needs of creation, the giftedness of individuals, and the will of God collide.  Ministry is about building trust and strengthening relationships: between individuals, between people and God, between groups, within families and communities.  Ministry is about learning and growing: in our personal and spiritual lives, in our understanding of one another and “the other.”

For most of the last 28 years, my role as a pastor has been to engage, foster, and lead ministry in the settings to which has God called me. My ministry has centered on the needs of congregations and individuals who need healing from conflict, clarity in their mission and purpose, new hope and vision their future, and spiritual and faith renewal. The image of my mother’s sewing machine explains this well.

My wedding band & finger suffered damage in this work.

To restore and renew this treasured item was painful.  As I emptied the drawers, I found spools of thread that matched the colors of many memories: patch-sized pieces of cloth carefully stored to repair long-gone but remembered clothing; bobbins and needle threaders, buttons and snaps, darning needles and crochet hooks; and a shuttle bobbin from the machine that the case previously housed.  Memories flowed as I handled each item to decide what was worth keeping.  But this was just the beginning of the work.

The sewing machine – the heart of the piece, had to be carefully extracted, first by unclasping the leather belt that wound from the wheel to the treadle; then by unscrewing the bolts that held it firmly to the case.  Lifting it carefully, several small metal items fell to the floor; they were straight pins long lost in the midst of a forgotten sewing project.  Each wood screw had to be removed so that the wooden lid, the machine pedestal, and hinged spring could be separated and their veneer layers replaced.  The checked finish on the drawers and lower cabinet needed to be repaired, but was the finish shellac, varnish, or lacquer?  How to proceed depended upon the make up of the cabinet.

Ministry is, for me, a careful study of the history and life of a congregation.  I listen to the memories, hopes and dreams of the church members, and engage the congregation in a time of self study that assesses the strengths and challenges of the congregation and the gifts and abilities of its members.  Together, we carefully examine the layers of history, disclose and address the worn and painful areas, and seek to discern the direction God is calling the congregation.  This is not a painless process; how to proceed depends upon the make up of the congregation and the trust levels of its members. 

Initially, I tried out several approaches to the checked finish of the sewing cabinet, each tried in an inconspicuous place; but the finish did not respond.  I brushed the finish with lacquer thinner and finally the checked finish dissolved just enough to smooth out some of the checked area.  Ultimately, this too did not work in the larger areas, and I had to strip all of the original finish off of the case.  These first attempts were not failures but learnings.

Ministry engages the congregation in learning:  about themselves, about their faith, about their life together, about God’s purpose for them within that particular community.  Not everything works perfectly because we are human and imperfect; but when we view our experiences as a journey of learning, we grow stronger.  The journey into God’s future travels through the valleys of errors, over the mountains of success, and across the flat plains of the ordinary.

On the floor of my garage are ten components that will eventually be reassembled into my mother’s sewing machine case. I am waiting for the right time -- a warm, humid day -- to apply the new veneer with old fashion hide glue.  I have a vision of what the completed project will look like, but need to remind myself to be open to the surprises the wood may yet have in store.  Assembled, it will still be the piece that adorned my childhood home and filled my memories, even though the scratches and finish will be new.  With the Singer machine reattached, it will be put to good use toward the purpose for which it was crafted.  All this will happen in time.

Ministry, too, is a matter of vision and of timing.  For the Church to be renewed, rebuilt, and retooled for this Post-Christian era, we must actively watch and listen for the direction and vision God gives us and put our gifts, abilities, and purpose into the hard work of living into God’s future.

     Just as my mother’s sewing machine will find a new purpose in a new place, so my ministry is being transformed and changed.  For six years I led a congregation through healing (from an abusive pastor) to new vision. I have co-pastored a new church exploration.  I have guided 9 congregations through painful transitions and healing to ready them for the leadership of a called pastor.  I have experienced the transitions in these congregations and then left the new life for another to lead.  I feel strongly that God is calling me to a new challenge in leading beyond the transitions and into the new vision God provides.  In the language of my mother’s sewing machine, I have led God’s people through the remembering, disassembly, testing, and refinishing; I feel called to finish the project, to imagine and form new ministries and new life within a now-healing congregation.