C hange is one of our only constants in life. No matter how still we try to stand, we cannot escape the passage of time, the shifting of the sands. I look in the mirror, and I can see that I am no longer the exactly same person as I was 20 years ago. I look at my child and how he continues to change, grow, and develop, whether I want things to slow down or not. I look at the church I love and can see the dramatic impact of change. We know change is reality and yet, we grow anxious and fearful. Inevitably with change comes grief. Perhaps it is not a deep despair or overwhelming sense of loss, but it is grief nonetheless. This grief sneaks upon us, and it shows up in our nostalgia for what used to be, in our stories of what has been, in our longing for the familiar. Grief is normal. What was is no more, yet we cannot quite see what God is doing. We can’t yet grasp the full hope of the future and so we grieve. Yet our grief is often masked: it can be hard to admit and harder to name. Our grief retreats, hiding behind anxious reactivity, fear, and sometimes entrenchment. We get stuck. We are anxious and fearful and so we get defensive, retreat within ourselves, or just dig in and work harder and harder at the things we know how to do, even when they are no longer working or serving God or the people the way they used to.
All this grief, fear, and anxiety can stop us, get us stuck, cause us to react not out of our deepest, most faithful selves but in other ways. It can cause us to challenge the changes around us, to cling to the past instead of discerning the will of God. It can cause division and pain within our churches and families. What, then, do we do with our fears? How do we learn to acknowledge the grief that comes with change and also manage the anxiety we feel?
I believe we begin at the heart of it all, by naming and acknowledging what is happening in us and around us. Fear, anxiety, and grief thrive in the silence, in denial, in pretending they are not real. Naming our emotions and acknowledging our own anxiety diminishes its grasp. Simply by giving it a name, we diminish its power; the more we try to push it down or send it away, the more it will take hold of us. If we can learn to vulnerably share in our communities—whether it is the fears we have about the future, the longing and grief we have for what has been, and/or the anxiety we are feeling about what to do next—the more likely the people with whom we serve will also have permission to name their own anxiety and feelings. The reality is that none of us have ever done it this way before. The more we can give space in the church for the uncertainty, fear, and anxiety, the more we can invite God to come beside us where we are.
Story is another place to remember and to reframe our experience. Stories of our own congregations, of God’s faithfulness in the past, or challenges met. Stories that remind us of what we long for but also of whose we are. Stories of Scripture can help too; while we were never in those exact places of uncertainty, God’s people have been. Return to the stories of the Exodus and wilderness, or to the words of the prophets offered to the people in exile. Sit with the disciples in the upper room after the resurrection but before the coming of the Holy Spirit. Stories have the power to root us, to remind us, and to give us perspective. Change is continuous, but God is unchanging. We believe in a God of resurrection and new life, a Keeper of Promises. These stories of challenge as well as deep faith root us in a story greater than our own moment of uncertainty.
Related: God has called me to listen, trust, and obey, even when the picture is unclear
There are a multitude of tools for meeting our anxiety and ministering to one another, and there are ways to meet our anxiety, fear, and grief. I want to offer you these few:
- Increase curiosity and wonder. Ask a question and listen for the answer. Take the time to wonder what God might be up to. Sit with questions rather than always striving for answers. Be open to learning something unexpected or new; sometimes God speaks in the most unlikely places. Our curiosity can lower the voice of our anxiety.
- Listen. Listen to the stories of your people and to your own heart. Don’t dismiss anything but don’t own it all either. Where possible, learn to listen without needing to respond, to fix, or to recast what is being said. God speaks when we are willing to listen. The challenge is slowing down long enough to have ears to hear. Listening is sacred space, a gift we give to others and a place of blessing from God.
- Rest, or take a timeout. One of the most helpful tools in groups and meetings when the anxiety rises is a short break. It allows the temperature in the room to lower, gives permission for people to take breath, and often creates space for a new perspective. Rest is vital for us all; we know this, but we do not often act upon it. God gave the gift of sabbath at the creation of the world because God knew the sacredness of stillness, presence, and the restorative gift of rest. Pastors and leaders, give this gift to your people and to yourselves. To meet the challenges and anxieties of ministry, we need to be rested and present.
- Breathe. Did you know that breathing becomes shallow when we are anxious? Literally remembering to breathe and engaging in intentional breath can calm us, bringing our minds back to the very Breath of God. When anxiety rises, take a deep breath. Notice your breathing, intentionally slow it down, and give it depth. The very air we breathe can offer us a more calming space from which to meet the challenges around us.
Finally, return to your baptism, to your belovedness, to your belonging. You are the people of God, marked in the waters of baptism and sealed as God’s own. While the world may be uncertain and changing, while grief, fear, and anxiety may flow through you and through your community, this does not change who you are or whose you are. You are God’s own people. You are God’s beloved children.
“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult.
The nations are in an uproar; the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice; the earth melts. The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.
‘Be still, and know that I am God! I am exalted among the nations; I am exalted in the earth.’
The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.” —Psalm 46:1-3, 6-7, 10-11
Rev. Dr. Edie Lenz
Rev. Dr. Edie Lenz is a minister of Word and sacrament in the Reformed Church in America. Edie serves as the executive director of Churches Learning Change and a coach for The Leader’s Journey. In addition, she is the part-time executive for the RCA’s Regional Synod of Mid-America. Edie and her husband live outside of Louisville with their dogs; their son is in his first year of college.
