Dear Church,
A couple weeks ago, I attended a memorial service for a 94 year old member of the church I grew up in. Shirley and her late husband Ross were often greeters or coffee hour hosts, and served in various committee roles at the First Congregational Church of Berea. My church was like a second home for me as a child, and there were many people in the congregation who were consistently present on Sundays and at church meetings and social events throughout the years.
I saw quite a few of those folks again at this memorial service. This wasn’t the first time I’ve attended a church gathering in recent years. But this time, for whatever reason, I felt how strongly my heart was connected with theirs. It was really nice to be in a gathering with the people who came alongside me early on my faith journey, in whatever large or small way.
To be honest, with a few exceptions, I didn’t know these older members of my church as individuals when I was a kid. I knew them as a collective group of people. I knew names and I knew faces, but I wouldn’t be able to connect them to each other. I didn’t know about their unique careers or accomplishments, where they came from, or how they spent their days. What I did know, for sure, was that they would show up to set out the coffee hour cookies, read scripture, make announcements, and occasionally tell me to stop messing around. I knew we cared about each other. As a collective, they mattered a lot to me. They were my “Church Family.”
This was probably true in reverse as well. When I ran around the church with a group of kids, the adults may not have known me as an individual. Perhaps they knew which family I belonged to, but they probably didn’t know a lot about the individual personalities and interests of each kid in the church. Still, I know us kids mattered a lot to them; we were their “Church Family.”
Maya Angelou said, “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
In a way, this is how I felt at this memorial service a couple weeks ago. I remembered the love, support, and care I received as a child from Shirley and church members like her, even if I didn’t have many strong, specific memories about individual members. That feeling of collective care matters.
I’m sure the children at LCC have these feelings about many of the adults at LCC (and many of the adults about other adults, and children about other children…). Maybe they don’t remember exactly who is who, or what separates “Dave” from “John” or “Tom,” but they know what it feels like to be surrounded by the love, support, and care of a collective community.
As our church grows and evolves, I’m certainly not suggesting we give up on getting to know each other, or that it isn’t important to learn about the unique gifts of our members. But it’s also okay to cut ourselves some slack when we don’t remember every name. I think it’s true that what people remember most about a “Church Family” is how it made them feel to be together. We know what it feels like to be surrounded by love, support, and care, and– unfortunately– most of us know what it feels like when we’re not.
Heading towards Rally Day and into the Fall, consider how your presence is such a gift to LCC. Our hearts are connected because we’re a Church Family, even if you don’t know everyone or do everything. Consider letting someone know you care about them, simply because we’re siblings in Christ– cards to our homebound members, a note to someone you haven’t seen in a while, a tap on the shoulder to someone sitting alone in worship, an invitation to an event or gathering. We’re a Church together, and what a great thing that is.
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I’m really looking forward to this Fall at LCC. As you can see in this edition of The Columns, there’s quite a lot going on here, and we’re in for a great season ahead! Hope to see you soon.
With Deep Gratitude and Love,
Pastor Joanna