Disciple: A Sure Foundation in Uncertain Times
So then, you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit.
But even with the surest foundation, buildings do shift. Repairs are part of upkeep. Renovations, restorations and even expansions can be necessary as a way of preserving and building capacity. The purpose of the building may need to change. Even when a building needs massive work, a good foundation will support improved structures for new occasions.
For the Church, our foundation is sure and certain. Yet, the earth does seem to be shifting beneath us. Even before the pandemic, evidence was mounting that more and more people were attending church less frequently. “I just fell out of the habit,” we hear people say. The pandemic only exacerbated the urgency to address this great exodus. Young people who grew up in church are especially disinclined to continue participating in church events. It is not so much about rejecting God as losing interest.
Though our foundation is strong, there are clearly cracks in the plaster. We have all kinds of problems with all kinds of walls—social, political, economic, spiritual. Walls we put up between our lives and God’s call. Walls between comfortable spaces and the uncomfortable views of our neighbors. Metaphorically and literally, we ignore those rooms designed for purposes now outdated.
Our Church “house” as currently structured needs renovation. We know that. But it is daunting to know where to start and what to do.
[Image: Laborers harvest sweet potatoes at a farm ministered to by the Episcopal Farmworker ministry. Archival photo, Diocese of North Carolina]
LABORING TOGETHER
Throughout my time as the bishop suffragan of the Diocese of North Carolina, I have heard questions and concerns about capacity, purpose, right-sizing and retrofitting of the structures of The Episcopal Church. These concerns are present in the smallest missions with aging buildings and historic cemeteries, present among dioceses struggling to equip and support a wide variety of diverse churches and institutions, and present even among the ranks of the deputies and bishops of the General Convention Executive Council.
Sometimes it feels as if the whole enterprise is groaning under the weight of our governing structures. Is it the groan of impending implosion, a collapsing under the weight of structures that no longer work? Or is it the groaning that anticipates the birth of something new that springs forth—not without pain and struggle—from the old? I think it is more the latter than the former. I think God is eager for us to labor together, to focus upon channeling renewed energy into our mission as ambassadors of reconciliation in Christ. But such labor may also mean reconfiguring some of the various apparatuses.
St. Paul wrote in his letter to the Romans, “We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.” (Romans 8:22-23)
If the pandemic showed us anything, it is that even with our buildings closed at times, even with the irritating and sometimes painful necessity of adaptation, innovation and modification, the mission of God in the work of the people of God continued, and continues, and is yielding some encouraging results. In some good news/bad news ways, we found we have capacity, and courage, and determination we didn’t know we had.
Presiding Bishop Michael Curry put it this way in his address to the Executive Council at the end of October: “The good news is only good news when you face the bad news,” he told the council. “In the midst of this, I have seen this church do what I never thought it would do or could do. I’ve seen goodness rise up in spite of the fact that we were a little confused by what was going on around us. I’ve seen people try to figure out, how do we care for each other?”
Curry was referring both to our responses to the pandemic as well as our church’s none-too-soon stepped-up engagement with anti-racism work and environmental justice in all its many manifestations.
BUILDING THE DWELLING PLACE OF GOD
Over the last 20 months, churches of every size and shape have found ways to reconfigure their work and stay connected through worship. We have gone deeper into our anti-racism work. Some churches found ways to feed more households than ever before. Others persevered in making their local facilities more environmentally friendly as more and more churches go solar.
Churches have not paused but accelerated their commitments to neighbor love and creation care. I am particularly struck by how our fellow Episcopalians are paying increasing attention to the intersectionality of environmental racism, looking for ways to redress the generational harm inflicted upon poor communities by poor stewardship of the land, water and air. North Carolina has long been a guiding light in such work, such as the successful efforts of people of faith in Warren County, who turned back efforts to resite a toxic county landfill in the 1990s. Episcopalians in Warren County were on the forefront of that work. Presently, parishes like St. Ambrose, Raleigh, and the Episcopal Farmworker Ministry continue to build models of intervention to address environmental racism and injustice among agricultural workers.
[Image: Activists block the streets during the 1992 PCB waste dump protests in Warren County, the event that sparked the environmental justice movement. Photo copyright Jenny Labalme. Used by permission of the photographer.]
Still, many forces—the Bible describes them as “principalities and powers”—continue to try to shake our foundations, distract our focus and drain our energy. The great temptation is to throw up our hands with dismay, walk away in despair and seek the balm of Netflix.
In the face of such temptation, we might settle for opining that we need to knock down all the structures, “throw the bums out,” “blow up the system” and continue to post other bromides as if that were the same as discipleship and embodiment of the change we aspire to be.
Blessedly, what I see in our Episcopal churches from Cabarrus County to Cuba is transformed and transformative discipleship. And because I serve on Executive Council, I have a pretty good view.
I see subtle but substantive efforts to wrestle with right-sizing our structures and processes to remodel, renovate and expand the capacity of our local churches and denominational structures to serve the mission of God. Do I also see some missteps here and there? Of course. Do I experience moments of cognitive dissonance such as when the balance sheet of the Episcopal Church improves while other measures of church vitality decline? Most definitely. Do these moments eclipse the radiance of those dedicated to serving Christ and the church in these challenging times? Not in the least. Do I sense a change in the wind signaling that other opportunities for changes in our governance and structures may be opening up? Yes, I do.
I see the vestries and their delegates to Convention ready to engage in the mission strategy at their local level, even if that means changing, reorganizing and remodeling. I see our Diocesan Council and Standing Committee amending their structures to sharpen their focus upon building beloved community. I see Executive Council rearranging all priorities to meet the needs of the most vulnerable communities, while respecting the challenges particular to each of our 112 dioceses. Sometimes that means building an expansion while also knocking down a few walls. In the future, it may also mean consolidating and downsizing in order to right-size structures to fit our resources and increase our capacity to serve our mission.
The essential truth remains the same: “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever.” (Hebrews 13:8). Christ is our sure foundation. We can be sure that we “are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit.” May we continue to build a place where all God’s people can dwell in peace and dignity and God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
The Rt. Rev. Anne Hodges-Copple is the bishop suffragan for the Diocese of North Carolina.
Tags: North Carolina Disciple