What Does It Matter?

A couple of weeks ago, I listened to a podcast episode titled “What Are We Doing and Why Are We Doing It?” This podcast is an ELCA Youth Ministry Network creation. You can listen to it here, https://www.elcaymnet.org/3tcepisode11. In this particular episode, while the focus was on youth ministry, the topic really applies to the church as a whole. The questions centered around what are we doing, why are we doing it, and what does it matter? And I add, can a faith community answer those questions? Can its leaders and member say “why” and “what it matters?” I spent the hour saying yes to pretty much everything they were saying and discussing. I’ve been thinking these same points and questions for some time now.

I listened to this episode twice, took notes the second time. The main questions kept coming back…why are we doing this? Why am I doing this? Why does this matter? Why does it matter to me? Why bother? Does anyone care about this anymore? If so, why? If not, why? Dwindling church numbers would seem to indicate it doesn’t matter. But I think it does all matter very much and that’s why we keep doing it…but also why people are leaving.

I think it boils down to one word…

BELONGING

One of my favorite youth ministry authors, Kenda Creasy Dean, proposed in one of her books, that the anthem for youth ministry should be the lines of the theme song from Cheers. I have to agree with her, but would modify it to all ministry, all human longing…

Sometimes you want to go
Where everybody knows your name
And they’re always glad you came
You want to be where you can see
The troubles are all the same
You want to be where everybody knows your name

In the church world, it’s easy to say “You belong to God”, “You are a beloved child of God.” Good, so now what? What does this mean in our everyday, practical lives? While these statements are nice and good reminders, they are also so big, so abstract. What does belonging to God look like?

As one who tries to embrace the idea that God is present in all of creation…everything…I think that belonging to God looks a lot like belonging to each other. God, the Holy Spirit, the Christ in us…each of us. Maybe this is what belonging to God looks like. It’s belonging to each other. It’s naming and claiming each other. It’s saying to one another, “You are welcomed here, you belong here, you belong with us, with me.” It’s a God, Jesus, with skin on sort of thing.

This is what is important to those ministry questions of “what are we doing and why are we doing it, does it even matter?” It’s about being that community, of belonging to each other that says we “belong to God” and this is the concrete picture of that big abstract phrase. 

And a lack of belonging is maybe why people are leaving. We know members of the LGBTQ community are not welcomed within the church walls, or are barely tolerated. Others may be unwelcomed due to skin color, disabilities, income, opinions, we have all sorts of ways of segregating ourselves. Maybe church hasn’t been a place that feeds their souls and spirits. Maybe there are past hurts. Busyness is certainly a factor, as is health, work, and other responsibilities. 

But at the heart, there’s still a human need to belong, to be of value, to be of service, to be part of a loving, supportive community…community defined in a multitude of ways. We are wired for connection, for community; some in small doses, others in large amounts.

So church…are you telling your own people that they matter, that they belong? Do you know their names? Are you always glad that they came to worship, the council meeting, the committee meeting, the intergenerational session, the work day, etc.? Are you letting them know that they are needed? Do they know there is a place for their gifts, their talents? Because if you’re not doing these things, why should you matter to them? Maybe there are other places where everybody knows their names, other places where everybody is glad they came, other places that welcome their gifts…the gym, the soccer team, the family breakfast table, the pool deck, the art studio, the running club, …the faith community down the street. And if this hard work isn’t being done with people within, how is it going to be done out there? If helping people feel like they belong to each other, to God, doesn’t matter to the church, people will find that sense of belonging elsewhere. Soccer, work, running club, etc., will become god.

At last year’s ELCA Youth Gathering in Houston, Deacon Erin Power spoke about belonging, watch it here, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pZIH2wF268Q&list=PLD2BE6D47D7169CB5&index=33&t=225s. She said it well…the first step to belonging is to be seen. We humans belong to each other. Christians say we are the body of Christ and that we belong to God. Our faith communities should be reminding us of our connected humanity. Belonging to a community, any community, reminds us that we belong together; being part of a faith, any faith, community gives us a much bigger connection and place of belonging than our clubs, schools, and work…God, Creation, pick your name.

Cheers modeled church in more ways than some brick and mortar places I suspect. A group of people sharing their lives, supporting each other, celebrating together, holding each other accountable…and belonging together.

Where do I belong? It’s something we, me included, all struggle with at some point, probably several points. Yeah, where do I belong?

This is why ministry work matters.

Amen.

P.S….we belong to each other, as part of humanity…

I leave you with this FB post from Kate DiCamillo’s FB page that was shared to one of my  groups:

On a plane, right after we land, the woman in the seat next to me calls somebody on her phone.
She is talking to them in a language that I don’t understand.
She starts to cry.
I’m sitting with my hand on the armrest.
I stare straight ahead.  
I try to give her some privacy.
But then, the most surprising thing: the woman reaches out and grabs hold of my hand.
She keeps crying, talking.
She squeezes my hand.
I look at her and smile.
She smiles back. 
Her face is covered in tears.
She keeps talking, crying.
We hold hands.
I have no idea what terrible thing has happened.
But I sit with this woman, hold her hand, and feel grateful that I can do something.
When we exit the plane, she says two words: thank you.
I thank her, too.