Are we Changing or Decomposing?

I’m sitting at my laptop on a table with a calendar hanging over it. The calendar sports several pictures from days gone by: my husband and his sister singing in church at about age 12 or 13, my youngest son strumming a guitar, my husband reading a newspaper with a teddy bear under his arm, and my youngest son leaving the church amidst bubbles with his new bride on his arm.

It’s the large picture in the center, however, that draws one’s eye first. It is a smiling 3 year old, my first born son, who is eating freshly frosted sugar cookie. Outside the window behind him, snow sits on the window sills and the snow on the roofs beyond the window is deep. In the fore ground are unfrosted sugar cookies: the bottom of a snow man, a couple of candles. By the turtleneck and long sleeves and the chapped lips on the child, it is clearly mid winter.

It’s a memory I cherish of my oldest son’s earlier Advent seasons. The enamel topped metal table and matching red chair upon which my son kneels reminds me of a different time when my children were so very small. His baby teeth shine in his bright smile. His eyes twinkle with joy as he “sneaks” a bit of a cookie he’s supposed to be decorating for Christmas.

Those were very different times. Life was simpler. The laughter of children in the house made a different atmosphere of daily living. It was a harder life. Our income level was only just enough on which to live without receiving welfare; we struggled to pay off our student loans. It was a time of stress as we juggled the roles of young parents, freshly minted pastors, part time social advocates, and full time naïve young couple.

As I look at this picture now, I long to tickle that little boy’s tummy with my fingers to hear him squeal with laughter. I remember all the good times we had in that little house in Pennsylvania. And it all feels like something I’d want to do again.

Only I don’t. Even if it were possible, I wouldn’t repeat those years. Yes, I remember them fondly. Yes, I feel things were easier then. But I wouldn’t want to repeat them because it would mean losing out on the experience of today. Today, when my sons are young adults exploring lives of their own. Today, when as empty nesters we have the joy of being able to pick up and go whenever we choose without regard to school calendars or nap times. Today, when I am wiser, more mature, and certainly a different person that I was 27 years ago. Today, while a very different era, still offers its own joys, challenges, stresses, and—yes – sad times.

I can’t go back; I am not the same now as I was then. I can’t go back; it is not possible to turn my adult sons into children again. I can’t do it over; I’m not that same young and spry, limber and energetic person I was 27 years ago. I don’t want things to be the way they used to be even if I’m not completely happy with how things are today – because I know in my heart of hearts that I wasn’t as happy then as my memories would like to lead me to believe.

What is true in life, is also true in the church. We can never again be what we once were because the world is not the same now as it once was and because you and I are not the same people we used to be. We have grown older, (hopefully) more mature and more wise, and (hopefully) to a different place on our faith journey. We can never again be what we once were because the world doesn’t need us as we used to be; Christ needs us in the world as he calls us to be for today. What worked in the culture of yester-year cannot work in the world today.

Friends, we’re not in Kansas any more. We are in a new era when the Church is not dominate in culture (if indeed it ever was in our lifetimes), where the choices of belief systems have developed along side of our capitalistic, consumer based economy, and where people of faith struggle as an alien culture in a strange land. Just as we do in our everyday lives, the Church needs to adjust to the realities of this new era.  The proverbial way we've always done it isn't working any longer; we have to adjust and adapt, and, by trial and error, find new ways of relating to one another and the world around us.  

The good news is that we know how to do this!  We've been doing it in our homes, in our work places, and in our everyday living.  We've adapted to new technology (internet, Skyping, networking via social media, microwaves, hybrid cars), to a smaller world and all its connections, to new relationships, and new ways of thinking.  We've reconsidered our opinions and ways of thinking about issues.  We revisited our values and priorities in light of all these changes.  

Now it's time for the Church and each part of the Body of Christ to do the same.  

Because if we don't adapt, we will cease to exist.  When any organism ceases to change it dies, and then the decomposers feast upon it.  The dead become the food of the living.  I'd rather we change than decompose.  Wouldn't you?!