One of the most helpful classes I took early in my coach training was about change, transition, and transformation. (The class content built on the work of William Bridges, who was an expert in these areas.) Often we lump the three terms together, but they are actually quite different:

• Change is a shift in our circumstances. It is external. We can choose it, or it can be forced upon us.

• Transition is a response to change. It is learning to see things differently as a result of our shift in circumstances. Our insides work to catch up to what is going on outside of us.

• Transformation is a wholly new way of not just seeing things differently but being in the world differently. We are fundamentally altered because we have so fully embraced change.

We do not go directly from change to transformation. There is that transition time in the middle in which what was is now in the rearview, but what is yet to come and whom we are yet to be are still in the future. Think of this neutral zone as a bridge between two realities. One of the functions of bridges is to carry us over water or roads. Not having solid ground underneath feels very precarious for a lot of people, including me. Yet there we are, left having to move forward, not just stay parked in the middle of that bridge - even if we can’t fully see what’s on the other side.

In our lives we have all found ourselves on the bridge at one time or another, prompted by a move, a job change, a birth or death close to us, or an injury that has altered how we move about the world. In 2020 people all across Earth found ourselves in a neutral zone. There was a sudden call to go from all that was familiar into lockdown. If we got out of our house, we needed to mask and physically distance. If we brought anything from the outside into our home, we were told, at least at first, to wipe it down for pathogens. Schools ended the year abruptly. Churches moved community online. Nothing felt familiar anymore. We couldn’t hug our people. We couldn’t go to the places we wanted. We couldn’t observe milestones in the ways we were used to. And how long would we be in this profound disorientation? The epidemiologists were saying from the start of Covid’s spread that – optimistically – we were in a 2-3 year event, though many of us, including me, could not hear that for a long time. We just reacted to a drastic shift in circumstances. But when weeks turned into months, we adjusted our way of thinking: ok, we are now in a global pandemic. There is no quick fix. We will do what we must in order to get through this, one day at a time. Our seeing realigned with our doing. To some extent we are still in the latter part of the Covid neutral zone. The virus is very much still with us, and we don’t yet know what a world where we are fundamentally changed by our pandemic experience will look like. Thankfully, we have a lot more knowledge and tools now to blunt its effects.

As a result of Covid and so many other changes in the world, many of us individually and collectively are in our own neutral zones. Maybe we’re doing things differently because we have to. Maybe we’re even seeing things in new ways because of our shifted circumstances. We’re still on that bridge, though. So what do we need to get to the other side?

• Celebrate what was without getting stuck in it. What is the legacy that you are taking with you into the neutral zone that can help you navigate it well? What are the values to which you will stay true, no matter what the future looks like?

• Cultivate your noticing that that God is working in, among, and through you. Sometimes it’s hard to see, but we never leave­ God’s compassionate presence and the hope of communal salvation that Jesus offers.

• Assess the tools at hand. Every person, every group, every congregation has a wealth of gifts that put you in position to cross the bridge. Maybe they need to be redistributed, but you have – and are – enough.

• Ask lots of questions. ­­What if…? I wonder what…? When we stay in that stance of thoughtful and playful curiosity, or even faithful doubt, creativity and possibility are available to us.

• Trust in and mutually support one another. The neutral zone is not the place to get stranded or to strand others. This is a bridge best navigated together.

The good news is that we don’t have to transform ourselves. We just have to open our hearts and our minds to God’s invitations, being confident that when we do, God will work in us in ways that don’t just fundamentally alter us but also the world around us.

 Photo by Modestas Urbonas on Unsplash.

Even before the pandemic, I, like many of you, had begun thinking about how the Church needs to shift in order to be Christ’s body in the world. The twenty-first century has offered Jesus followers new awareness around individual and collective power (both having and lacking it), big questions to ask and challenges to overcome, and an increased number of tools for connecting with and on behalf of others. Covid-19 stripped us down to the studs, allowing us to see what is essential in a faith community. And now we as the body of Christ are moving through lingering exhaustion, fighting an illness that keeps popping back up (though thankfully with more ways to mitigate it now), and wondering which way to go next.

I don’t think any of us has answers about specific models of church. I know I don’t. But I think the characteristics of a flourishing church in 2023 are coming into focus. This month I will be sharing my thoughts on them via an alphabet of the evolving Church.

This week: letters K-O. (See A-E here and F-J here.)

Kin. In church we often talk about being a family. That characterization can be rooted in an idealized version of family in which we love one another unconditionally. It can also be a bit insular, though. Have you ever joined a family, such as through marriage, and wondered if your presence was really wanted? There are insider jokes and stories and traditions that feel strange and come with little explanation, often because the family you’ve come into doesn’t realize how unique those cultural pieces are. “Kin,” though, has a different connotation for me. The term kin is sprawling. It’s not just those we interact with every day or even just on Sundays and holidays. It is all the people we are connected with - which, ultimately, is all the people on Earth. It implies some responsibility to one another. If we are kin, we bring people in. We help each other out. There are so many ways congregations can emphasize this message.

Listening. The Church that is increasingly irrelevant is focused on telling people exactly what God says and what everyone should do. The life of faith is not that simple. We come to belief through a myriad of backgrounds and experiences, and we interpret scripture based on them. What I think is more important to faith formation than telling, then, is listening. How do we teach people to hear the voice of God? How can we show the love of God to others through offering the gifts of our time and attention? What might we help people hear about the presence and work of God in their lives by witnessing their stories and reflecting on them together? What might we ourselves be changed through narratives different than our own?

Meaning-making. There is so much in the world that is hard and confusing. As Church we must be ready to help people make sense of it. We don’t necessarily have the answers, but we can provide a way of thinking about all that is happening and encourage those in our care to find their place, their agency, in it. We have some choices, and those options can be identified and refined through the lens of our faith.

Noticing. One of my favorite questions to start a group gathering is, “Where have you seen God at work lately?” I am always awed by the responses, which can be small notes of gratitude or retellings of big happenings in which God could just as well be shouting “HERE I AM” through a megaphone. Noticing is key to discernment, a faith-rooted way of making decisions. Church is a great place to cultivate that noticing. It shouldn’t just be for occurrences, though. It should also be for really looking for and seeing the image of God in God’s people - whomever, whenever, wherever. Just think how different the world would be if everyone noticed God and the work of God in all times and places!

Openness. This is a hospitality of the heart and mind. It is a willingness to consider new ideas and perspectives and try new things, and to know and be known by the people who introduce you to them. It is the ability to admit wrongdoing and make substantive changes. It is a doing better once you know better, as Maya Angelou said. Sometimes it is simply letting ourselves delight or giving ourselves permission not to know everything. (Doesn’t that sound like a relief?) How might our congregations help us nurture this hospitality, which is a big theme in scripture?

Next week: letters P-T.

Photo by Surendran MP on Unsplash.