The Slow Turn

At this stage of life, all three of our children are teenagers. I taught my older son to drive, the second one is currently learning, and our daughter will soon be ready. I repeatedly remind them to anticipate what is ahead and to drive defensively. One of the rules of the road is to slow down when taking a turn. Those of us who have driven for years do this instinctively. But, like everything else, new drivers need to learn that the sharper the turn, the slower you need to go.

My local church is in the process of relocating. Because a natural disaster destroyed our buildings two years ago, we are moving to higher and drier ground. Additionally, we need more space and accessibility. Our current facilities served us well for nearly eight decades, but they have run their course.

The new building is only two miles away. Although the distance is not far, the move is a major milestone. You might say my church is making a turn—a sharp one. In fact, it’s the sharpest turn we have ever taken. I confess, I feel inadequate as I lead the congregation through it. I also confess that part of me wants to hit the accelerator and get it behind us. My pastoral instinct, however, cautions me to be deliberate, to take this turn with care.

You might say my church is making a turn—a sharp one. In fact, it’s the sharpest turn we have ever taken.

I am aware that a community of faith plus a different facility equals a different community of faith. The “church” is the people, but architecture plays a significant role in shaping us. The size, scope, and layout of our new home will affect us in new ways. The last thing I want to do is give my congregation whiplash. With more than a year to prepare, the staff has been working on sermon series, meaningful events, and logistical steps to ease the transition. We talk about what to anticipate and how to communicate. We imagine ways to make this move deliberately, creatively, theologically, and with liturgical meaning.

First, we slow down to remember. For the three months leading to the move, we planned events for the sole purpose of storytelling. We offer thanks for what God has done. We tell stories of the saints who are now part of the cloud of witnesses. We honor the past with our tales, tears, and laughter. Part of remembering is making time for lament. Although people understand the necessity of the move, there will be a measure of loss and grief. We are leaving a sacred space where thousands of sacred events took place. These are not to be taken lightly.

Second, we slow down to preach and teach about change. Life in Christ is life in flux. Following Jesus results in changes, large and small. Ironically, church people do not always handle change well, so we anticipate changes and plan for how we will navigate them together. In doing so, we call the church to embrace change because God is using it to transform us.

Third, we slow down to articulate those things we do not want to change. This gives us an opportunity to clarify matters that are most important to us. Our foundation in Christ remains the same no matter where we gather. Our DNA runs deep. We will remain genuine, prayerful, missional, healthy, accepting, and intergenerational. We will continue to cultivate our core values. We will stay attuned to God’s mission, refusing to make the building only a destination. The building will be a sacred space, but sacred spaces are launching pads from which we take the Good News to others. As we name what stays the same, the old and the new are wedded together, the past and future converge in the present moment, and God is with us. There may not be continuity in everything, but there is continuity in what matters most.

In Genesis 16, God encountered the runaway Hagar. He called her by name and asked, “Where have you come from and where are you going?”1 It was an appropriate question, and it is appropriate for the church. Where we have been and where we are going matter. And how we handle the transition between them makes a difference. We will make this turn slowly, because we want to make it well.

Rev. Daron Brown lives and pastors in Waverly, Tennessee, with his wife, Katie, and children, Kendall, Parker, and Macy.

1 Gen. 16:8 NRSV