Do not remember the former things,
    or consider the things of old.
I am about to do a new thing;
    now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?              - Isaiah 43:18-19a (NRSV)

This past month I attended a very interesting virtual conference in my capacity as Chair of the New Jersey Association Church and Ministry Commission. It was a four-day virtual event on authorizing ministry in the twenty-first century with the theme: Solid Rock and Shaken Foundations. The question on everyone’s mind was, “How are we to do church now? “How are we to be God’s people in our current environment?” We find ourselves in a world turned upside down by a worldwide pandemic that is raging in our nation and creating all kinds of upheaval in our lives. We are being forced to confront the result of centuries of racism in this country and the terrible price it has exacted in the lives of our brothers and sisters of color. We are faced with the impact and consequences of a presidential administration and a political party that is unable and unwilling to accept the results of an election, even in the absence of hard, factual evidence to support their position.

The year 2020 was one of serious turmoil and rapid, continuous change to our expected norms. These realities made the keynote address by the Rev. Dr. Monica Coleman very timely: “Learning to Lose.”

Dr. Coleman recited all of the losses that many of us experienced during the year that is past: loss of community, loss of physical touch, loss of gatherings, loss of sleep, loss of life. She reminded us that in our society, loss is framed as failure. After a loss, there is always the post-mortem conversation: “How do we not do that again?”

She pointed out to us that Heraclitus of Ephesus, a philosopher from the sixth century B.C.E., wrote, “The only thing constant in life is change.” And that is what troubles us. Change. The amount of change and the pace of change in the year 2020 were at amazing levels. She reminded us that “institutions are the bulwarks against change” – and that is especially true of the “Church.” The Church is expected to be steady, dependable, reliable. But in 2020, our foundations have been rocked! We can’t do anything that we have been used to doing – and, wow, does that raise our discomfort and anxiety levels.

The good news is: the only thing constant in life is change. Change, by definition, means losses of the familiar, the comfortable, the way we’ve always done things.

Isaiah knew that. How could God do a new thing with Israel without shaking the people loose from the way they always did things? How can we expect God to do a new thing with us unless God removes our rationalizations and excuses for always doing what we’ve always done? At times, we need to be shaken out of our lethargy so that we are open and willing to try new paths forward. Uncomfortable? You bet. And we certainly don’t volunteer to be the ones shaken up. But God says to us, “Forget about the past, that is behind you, it is history. Look forward. Open your eyes and watch what I am about to do with you and for you.” 

Notice, God doesn’t spell out exactly what God is going to do. “I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” The way forward is going to be very different, in fact, we have no idea how it will happen. Under “normal” circumstances, we won’t find roads in the middle of a forest or the Mojave Desert. We don’t expect to see a flowing river in the middle of Death Valley. But God asks us to pay attention, to rely on God, to always seek God’s guidance and direction, because God is faithful to God’s promises: “I am going to do a new thing, I’m beginning to lay the groundwork. Can’t you tell something new is in process?”

Yes, 2020 was miserable and we don’t want a repeat of it. 2021 we pray will be a much better year. We enter this year a changed people – like it or not, we are not the same as we were twelve months ago. But we have a testimony to give. We can speak about God walking beside us and holding us together to this moment in time. It may feel incomplete, because it is. Our journey continues. My prayer for us all is that we continue to journey together, keeping one eye fixed on God, looking to see the new work that God will begin with us.

In closing, I offer this poem that Dr. Coleman shared with us as a testimony of living with loss.

won’t you celebrate with me 

By Lucille Clifton[1]

won't you celebrate with me

what i have shaped into

a kind of life? i had no model.

born in babylon

both nonwhite and woman

what did i see to be except myself?

i made it up

here on this bridge between

starshine and clay,

my one hand holding tight

my other hand; come celebrate

with me that everyday

something has tried to kill me

and has failed.

Your servant,

Pastor Ron

[1] Lucille Clifton, “won't you celebrate with me” from Book of Light. Copyright © 1993 by Lucille Clifton. Reprinted by permission of Copper Canyon Press. 

[Source: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/50974/wont-you-celebrate-with-me]