One of the most unexpected benefits of attending the pilgrimage I went on in Switzerland in October was the ability to participate in a one-on-one chaplaincy session with a chaplain I have admired for the last decade. At this event, a chaplaincy session was basically a cross between coaching and therapy. We were told at the beginning of the pilgrimage to consider a question or life conundrum to discuss with the chaplain, who would help us parse out the issue and lead participants to discover new ways of thinking about or engaging with that particular topic in their lives.
Well, even though we were assigned ahead of time to bring a question to our chaplaincy session – and even though I signed up for a time on the second-to-last day so that I would have plenty of time to come up with a question – I failed to arrive to my session with a question in tow. So, my chaplain, Vanessa, simply asked, “what has been occupying your thoughts lately?”
Without much hesitation, I said, “planting roots.”
After noting the irony of coming all the way to Switzerland to talk about my hope to “bloom where I am planted,” I told her that my thoughts were often occupied with a desire to settle in and truly make Frankfort a long-term home for myself and my family.
I’m sure some of you are reading this and thinking, “wait – you moved here two and a half years ago and you’re only now occupied with thoughts about settling in?” But you might also remember that the first year or two we were here consisted of one change after another. And, even the places and positions that seem like the best fit at first could turn out to be like square pegs in round holes.
Nearly two and a half years later, Scott and I both have talked a lot about how we feel like our whole family is finding our place in Frankfort. Our house is feeling more like a home; Our kids are making friends and are happy in their schools; and Scott and I feel a sense of belonging in our work environments that is hard to manufacture just anywhere. For the first time in our married life, we are planted. We are not constantly asking each other what’s next or wondering what it would be like to be somewhere else.
“Ok,” Vanessa chimed in after I had rambled on for a while. “But what is keeping you from feeling like you can plant yourself as deeply as you would like and really start letting your roots spread?”
At that point, I had to admit that the biggest hindrance to my personal ability to settle in and plant roots was my fear that our church was letting anxiety around an aging population keep us from embracing the steps we need to take in order to see a new, more vibrant future take shape.
I told her what I have told you – that I believe we are at a precipice moment, during which the decisions we make now will determine whether we are planting seeds for trees the next generation will sit under or allowing the church to succumb to the inevitable conclusion of old age. I said that my dream was to see us dig in and look towards the future, but that I am often met with trepidation when I talk about ideas that will require the church to make financial or time investments that, in this moment, feel unnecessary or even audacious given our current congregational make-up.
While I was speaking to Vanessa, I was aware that the church would be taking a vote that day to determine whether or not we should we replace the roof (and how we would finance that project), and that there had been some anxiety over how the church would respond. Some wondered if it would be worth getting into debt for a building that, in some future possibilities, might outlast the congregation itself.
I was confident that the vote would pass and that I would come home to find the church in preparations to replace the roof. But, honestly, I was concerned about the number of comments I heard about what an “old” congregation we are and how trepidatious we are about making significant contributions to a church whose future is unknown.
In 2026, we will mark our 65th Anniversary as a church. When I realized that this milestone birthday for the church was coming up, I began dreaming alongside the staff, Deacons, and Church Council about what we might begin to build in celebration of this big year and in anticipation of future anniversaries. We’ve started visualizing how changes to the building and renewed outreach efforts could lead us into a new day – could help us to look beyond our current “age,” and live as if we have decades ahead of us – to be more nimble and inclusive of people of all ages and stages of life.
Kurt Vonnegut said, “What should young people do with their lives today? Many things, obviously. But the most daring thing is to create stable communities in which the terrible disease of loneliness can be cured.”
I would add that this is not just the work of young people, but is the work of all of us in the church – especially those of us in a church whose mission is to “experience and express God’s unconditional love.” How, though, can we creating stable communities when we let anxiety about our age keep us from building in ways that will help us to grow? How can we truly root ourselves in a place where we don’t except branches to spread forth?
Vonnegut goes on to say, “Be patient. Your future will soon come to you and lie down at your feet like a dog who knows and loves you no matter what you are.”
We serve a God whose unconditional love is, believe it or not, far greater than any dog’s! We follow a God who called us to dream bigger than ourselves. For nearly 65 years, we have committed ourselves to this God who is constantly creating something new in and through our church.
When Vonnegut says to be patient – he doesn’t mean to twiddle your thumbs. His patience is an active patience – a patience that tells our fears and anxieties to step aside. His patience is persistently focused on a future that is far greater than we can imagine. A future that is inevitably ours and inevitably good.
As we journey through the season of Advent, may our anticipation for the birth of Christ challenge us to anticipate the future God is building in our midst now. May we be challenged as we step into the new year to dream of what could be and not be held back by what is or was. May we allow the Holy Spirit to lead us to live with a spirit of abundance and be moved to generosity in the pursuit of a future worth looking forward to.
Dig in with me that we might all root ourselves deeply into building something stable, inclusive, and beyond our wildest imaginations!
At the end of our conversation, Vanessa asked, “What would happen if you shared these hearfelt desires and concerns with your congregation?”
At which point, I responded…
