Andy and I have just returned from our annual diocesan convention, an event where parishes from across the diocese come together not just for the usual business proceedings, but for a shared experience of worship, workshops, meals, and fellowship. It’s a unique opportunity to forge and fortify relationships, to step out of our usual settings, and to welcome new faces into our midst. Convention serves as a vital and enriching occasion for the Church to unite, to voice its concerns, and to make collective decisions as the Body of Christ.
But it’s also a lot of work. It doesn’t matter if you’re an introvert, an extrovert, or some mishmash of the two (as most of us are)- conventions are draining! They always require serious spiritual effort.
This exertion, however, is necessary. It’s God’s way of pushing us out of our comfort zones, prompting us to learn and grow. He seeks to remove the obstacles that hinder our connection with Him and with the others who comprise His Church.
And that’s actually a good thing. God has an obligation to push us out of our cozy little zones to help us stretch and grow. He desires to clear out the clutter that keeps us from connecting with Him and the others that make up His Body, the Church.
So, all that stretching and formation may be a good thing. That being said, it isn’t a comfortable or easy process.
Our recent convention took place at a scenic YMCA camp on the shores of Lake George in upstate New York. Check out more information about their beautiful facility here. The accommodations are lovely, but they are rustic, and not exactly a luxury hotel. And the requirement for the weekend to share a room, whether with a friend or a stranger, was definitely a hurdle for some potential attendees. And I get it, it’s not an easy thing to do, although I enjoyed my roommate quite well.
Upon checking in, Andy and I were thrilled to be assigned to the main lodge, a noticeable upgrade from the remote cabin we had during our last visit. However, we soon realized that our previous cabin, with its private bathroom, offered a certain seclusion that the main lodge’s shared facilities absolutely did not.
And to be honest, for just a moment, we considered leaving. Or, at least asking if a different room was available. We were amazed at what kinds of feelings this relatively minor inconvenience brought out in us: fear and anxiety, embarrassment; and discouragement, along with resentment and covetousness at others who may not have had to share.
It’s remarkable how such a seemingly small detail can throw us for a loop. We didn’t want to share a bathroom with others, yet we recognized there was no tangible reason we couldn’t.
Through a moment of reflection and grace, we understood that sometimes our personal preferences can impede the growth God intends for us. In this case, it meant embracing a fuller sense of community by sharing personal spaces. So, we chose to stay.
And in the end, we were grateful for that choice. The spiritual exercise of asking God to expand the limitations of our understanding and practice was exhausting but rewarding. Especially because, although there were moments of solitude, like a quiet walk by the lake or a peaceful period in our room, much of our time was spent in the company of countless others.
Finding the space for meaningful conversation in a packed schedule and crowded environment is challenging. Even simple acts like eating in a cafeteria setting become complex tasks of multitasking conversation, and dining etiquette, keeping to a busy timeline.
All this reflection on the joys and challenges of communal life, leads to an essential question: How do we truly connect with one another within the Church?
Rethinking Relationship
Navigating the maze of human connection can be tricky. We’re wired to bond, but often, it’s more about clicking ‘like’ on social media or rallying around common hobbies than delving into the soulful depths of spiritual kinship. We hustle through our daily routines, trying to bridge gaps with texts, tweets, and tags. Our circles form, almost instinctively, drawing lines along the familiar contours of beliefs, passions, and worldviews. It’s a dance of similarity, where we often waltz with those who reflect bits of ourselves.
The Body of Christ, however, is connected through one thing and one thing alone- love and obedience to God. It isn’t a feeling, but a reality. This connection, if it is truly in the Lord, never waxes or wanes, and it will never end. As Paul writes in his letter to the church in Galatia:
As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.
Galatians 3:27-28
This different connection to others is outside our current experience. If we settle for anything less than the fullest expression of God’s love for us and for others, than the connection we make at church, isn’t any different or better than those outside of it.
Leaving Room
Often, we are full of ourselves. So much so, that there is no room for anything beyond our own thoughts, feelings, opinions, and understandings. As such, we leave no room for God.
Every one of us comes to God chockfull – brimming with cares, concerns, desires, and plans other than His. God’s only desire for us is His good. Anything less than His goodness keeps us from true connection.
It’s a human quirk, isn’t it? We often catch ourselves sizing up others, using them as a mirror to reflect our own perspectives. “That’s not my style,” we think, or “I disagree with that statement.” It’s a snap judgment, with little thought for the person behind the appearance or opinion.
Yet, what if we strived to understand the ‘whys’ of their choices? What personal journeys do their outfits convey, and what past experiences do their beliefs embody? When we label their actions as ‘right’ or ‘wrong,’ we miss the chance to empathize with their life’s narrative. We shrink them down to fit our expectations, overlooking the rich tapestry of their experiences.
Our hearts have limited vacancies, and not everyone makes the guest list. But divine love? That’s boundless, embracing all but sin. To truly listen, to strive to understand, and to extend compassion—even when we disagree—is to carve out a space for grace and growth, for them and us alike. After all, we’re all navigating this journey, flawed and seeking forgiveness. And that’s a conversation worth continuing, don’t you think?
Relying on God
As an awkward introvert, I have a hilarious and traumatic track record of interactions and friendships. As such, it’s easy to buy into the notion that upping the “likeability” factor is the key. The world’s advice? Transform into a social butterfly, radiating warmth, wisdom, and wit, all while being irresistibly fascinating. It’s the ultimate makeover, promising a spot in the limelight of social acceptance.
Through Scripture, God calls us out on this ridiculous notion. It’s not about the glitz or the glam; it’s about steadfastness in Him. God isn’t swayed by our smarts, our jokes, or our knack for turning heads. His love isn’t a leaderboard. He cherishes us—flaws and all—no strings attached. His love doesn’t waver; it’s the one sure thing.
In the face of such unwavering love, our truest response is faithfulness to His commandments. Sin? That’s us rejecting His love. But when we’re woven into God’s love, that bond extends to all who walk in faith. Our connection in Christ isn’t about shared shopping sprees or matching political badges; it’s kindled by a collective yearning for unity with God, through His Son, Jesus Christ. And that’s the only connection that really matters.
Trusting in God
If God has called us to ministry, whether it be ordained or lay, He has empowered us with what we need to accomplish that ministry. That means that we don’t come to God’s work empty. We come filled with the grace that He has given us, which is abundantly enough to accomplish God’s purpose. If we are connected to God, we are connected to the fount of all life, grace, forgiveness, and healing Himself. We should be walking, talking, fountains of living water, ready and able to overflow with God’s love and grace for others.
However, I can testify in myself that I usually walk around fearful, anxious, and preoccupied with worldly things. I frequently fail to remember that God doesn’t call the able, but He abundantly enables those He calls. And He has enabled us for one purpose: to share His grace with others.
All of us in our hearts long for greater connection; greater love, and deeper intimacy with God and others than we have experienced elsewhere. These feelings lead us to the only place those longings can be fulfilled- in God and God alone.
C.S. Lewis explains,
If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.
The Weight of Glory
The squabbles and the arguments, the disunity and disagreements, the violence, prejudice, and hatred show us that the world can’t love by itself without God. All of our experiences lead and guide us to this one eternal Truth. As Lewis continues in the same sermon:
At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the splendours we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumour that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in.
The Weight of Glory
Before our “getting in” however, there is a period of learning something better than what the world can offer. We, as sinful human beings, need to be taught and stretched, pulled out of our comfort zones, and led to the ultimate love and safety of God’s embrace.
As C.S. Lewis also reminds us:
The cross comes before the crown… A cleft has opened in the pitiless walls of the world, and we are invited to follow our great Captain inside. The following Him is, of course, the essential point.
The Weight of Glory
The whole point is not to rest in the comfortability of salvation in and for ourselves alone, and the fullness of satisfaction lived out in our preferences and our pleasure in the world, but, instead, to realize that God is trying to lead us to an inescapable truth about real connection.
We are all being changed into something greater than we are. Everyone is becoming more like God, or less. In every single one of our relationships, we are helping each other on the way to one or the other:
It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree helping each other to one or the other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all of our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations – these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit – immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.
C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
All in all, we are not just navigating a life of casual get-togethers, church picnics, or ladies’ luncheons, but helping each other with that eternal weight of glory that God has offered to each one of us, knit together one to another in a single Body, working in the power of our Savior, Jesus Christ, each and every single moment of our days. And our days are not just about passing the time that we have been given on this earth, but training in righteousness for a world to come- a world of such deep relationships and loving connection, such as we have never yet known.