Abiding in Exile | March 12

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The Iowa Annual Conference has a weekly email intended to offer scriptural insights during this season of pandemic. It is called, “Abiding in Exile,” and I subscribed this week. I received my first email yesterday. The author, Lee Rhorda Schott, shared the joy and freedom that comes from being fully vaccinated. I thought, “I know!” For me, vaccination was like a heavy cloud being lifted. I’m now three weeks past my second shot and rejoice that my parents sat at our table for the first time in a year last Saturday as we shared a meal together.

But, the pandemic isn’t over. Our children aren’t vaccinated yet. Many adults haven’t been vaccinated either. And, many others will choose not to be vaccinated or can’t take the vaccine due to health reasons. We still don’t know how long immunity will last from the vaccine or if new variants will pose threats the vaccines can’t cover. 

Even in the midst of these unknowns, we truly have so much to be thankful for because the vaccine appears to be a game-changer. We can now begin to imagine what is next. What is next, however, will not arrive like a switch, suddenly flipped to provide light in the room. In the email I mentioned, Abiding in Exile, the author likened it to a dimmer switch. Ahh...I guess we will face uncertainty a bit longer.

Remember Noah’s Ark? This was the biblical narrative Schott used to illuminate our current context. The flood caused utter destruction of everything they knew while Noah and his family spent a year and ten days together in a small pocket of protection. Of course they wanted out as soon as possible, so they sent birds to scout...initially to no avail, then with a branch in tow, then not to return at all. Finally, they could safely walk on dry ground. But, this wasn’t anything at all like the dry ground they left when they stepped on that ark. They started over with nothing but a rainbow and a promise.

We so deeply long for life to go back to normal, even as we instinctively know that is impossible. The flood came...and then receded...but what is left doesn’t look like what we once knew. This is a new reality. As it becomes possible for us to be in the same physical spaces together, those spaces will look different. And, it will be safer for some people to be in those spaces than it will be for other people. Will it be acceptable to ask someone about their vaccination status before deciding whether they can share space with you? If everyone in your group has been vaccinated, does that make it a closed group to a guest or someone new? Will masks ever become a thing of the past?

I’ve asked our Administrative Council to give attention to Gil Rendle’s book, “Quietly Courageous.” A few are reading the book, but most are reading the summary I’ve provided. If you’d like to read the summary, click here. From a long and deep United Methodist context, Rendle offers an insightful look at the task of leadership. Decline has been forcing a reckoning in the UMC since we began losing membership in 1968. The pandemic only accelerated this reality. Rendle’s question is, “When what you’ve known is no longer, how do you start over?” He encourages us to ask questions as we approach our quandary, to be curious, looking for possibilities we couldn’t have imagined previously. It has been hopeful for me, sort of the rainbow and a promise after the flood. We will not only survive the pandemic, we will thrive in what is next. I truly believe that. Thriving won’t look like what we remember, but it might look better. Next time you see a rainbow, let’s be reminded there is always possibility. Until then, let’s give thanks that the first signs of vaccination are really encouraging and keep wearing our masks.

Holding on with you as the Lenten journey continues,
Pastor Charla

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