CHAPTER 1

Discovering Gifts

Relationship and Identity

(Can be used during the seasons of Christmas and Epiphany)

Can you imagine a bright, sunny Sunday morning and that wonderful moment when afamily is gathered at the front of the church, surrounded by godparents,neighbors, friends, and well wishers, to have their child baptized? The hopesand dreams of this family, along with those of the entire gathered community,are centered on the one little person, possibly dressed in some gossamer, frillyoutfit, handed down, from generation to generation. The water is poured over thechild's head, and then holy oil is pressed on the child's forehead. "You aremarked as Christ's own forever!" a cheery priest proclaims and the entiregathering is alive with applause, music, and congratulations. This is a joyfulmoment in the life of every church. It can be a time of great welcome, deepeningof relationships, and expanding of our common identity. Too often it is anisolated occasion without much connection.

The same group of people, who pledged to help raise this child in the faith andin community, might well have to struggle to understand the faith they havereceived and may never truly understand how to share their faith journey. Theymay never understand Christ's mission in that particular community. They mayfeel unequipped to do so. The parents may never have knowledge of God's uniquecall to them or their family within that community. The parents themselves mightfeel inadequate to the task. We are called to be Christ's own forever, topossess a unique identity in, and relationship to Jesus Christ, and yet we oftenfeel unable to tell our story as it relates to the Jesus story. This dilemma isparticularly true among congregations that are small or isolated; congregationsthat may have declined due to economic hardships; churches founded to respond tospecific racial or cultural situations in very different times. The true storyof the people, of the community, might never be heard by this child or by thechild's family. Many church communities are fractured by the changes they haveundergone and have become discouraged, feeling that their best days of ministryare behind them.

This book is for the leadership of any congregation that has experienced thefracturing and hardships that make it very difficult to envision growth andvitality for their church. This book is for anyone struggling with how torespond to God's call in their special community—and for those who are wrestlingto find themselves and their community in the larger story of the Christianfaith. My goal is to remind communities that God has called each of us intoexistence and called us for an incredible purpose. This book is meant toencourage individuals and congregations to discover what that purpose is withintheir particular place and community. It is designed to invite growth throughdiscovering and using the gifts each community has been given by God. Whether,as a community, you are small or isolated, different or distressed, there ismore that God would have you do, right where you are planted. You have a storyto tell and there are people desperate to be touched and welcomed to that uniqueplace where you find yourselves.

Unique

First, let me explain what I mean by a unique congregation or community. As abishop in the Episcopal Church, I have had the joy of being in many, manychurches across the dioceses I have served. I was once in a very small, ruralcongregation for an evening meeting. This was a congregation that was oftendescribed by outsiders and diocesan leaders as one of our "dying parishes." WhenI arrived, rain was coming down in torrents. The senior warden wanted me to seethe sanctuary of the church before we moved to the meeting. I wasn't sure why hewas so insistent, but I reluctantly went along with him, in the rain, across thegrass lawn from the little building that served as a parish hall to the one-story wooden structure, barely visible from the road. He took me inside to achurch that could seat about seventy people at full capacity. And then he slowlywalked me around the church, touching each and every pew and pointing out pulpitand lectern, the crosses and the windows. He told me the name of every personwho had carved each pew, and their relationship to a present member of thecongregation. For him, these were not objects or things, but rather the symbolsof a living faith passed on from a previous generation. In the pews lived thestories of freed field slaves, of women, men, and children, their sorrows andjoys and the faith that he had inherited from them all. In the simple objects ofthat humble space, great deeds of faithfulness and God's promise and commitmentwere made very real. His stories wove the bigger story of our faith in Christ.

This tiny congregation, which might seem dreary or doomed to outsiders, wasalive and vibrant with ministry and outreach. Despite their limited numbers, thepeople of the congregation provided opportunities and training for many childrenin their community and have set up a computer lab, teaching children and adultshow to use the internet and other online resources. All of the computers wererescued from businesses that were upgrading their technology. They take childrenand young adults on trips to do outreach for others. They are passionate andcommitted to the education and empowerment of their community, and so have foundways to be a vital force for the life of their whole area.

Every congregation, every building, every community has a unique and oftenchallenging life. Every congregation is unique, and people have come therebecause they have found solace, compassion, and a home in Jesus among the peoplegathered. Like the little congregation I just described, many small churches(whether rural or urban) might seem troubled or even dying to outsiders. But tothose who have been ministered to, or those who have found a home among thosewho were once strangers, that church is at the heart of their lives and theirhopes for the future. It is our human struggle and our faith in Christ all woventogether in the mystery of God's love and presence with us.

This book, I hope, will provide encouragement and suggest some ways forward togrowth, using the unique symbols, stories, and strength that are the people ofGod in your unique place. It will help tell the story of the faith that has beeninherited and help find ways to use that strength to serve a present,reconfigured community.

Relationship

Throughout this book, I will be emphasizing the importance of relationship. As aNative American woman (Cherokee), I was raised to understand that I was relatedto a very large human family and an even larger created cosmos. Native peoplespeak of all of our relations to describe not only the human family, but thefour-legged and other creatures who share this fragile earth with us. My elderstaught me that I was never alone. I learned that every morning I had more tocare for than just myself. Every morning and every evening, I was to considerall that was around me and all those with whom I shared the day. Every day I wasto consider my responsibility for those around me—that day and every day. Astribal people, we are constantly concerned that our individual work and actionswill bring honor to our people. If we are not careful, we can dishonor ourpeople by being selfish and acting in a disrespectful way. We believe that weare called to take care of the welfare, health, and survival of all people inour midst, even those we might consider our enemy. What I learned from an earlyage was that relationships were more important than programs or policies, andthat relationships were more important than theologies and politics. I wastaught that all living creatures take precedence over transactions, success, andbusiness affairs. Who we are and how we are for others was to be the criticalconcern for any faithful person.

Relationships are the building blocks of every congregation and community. Someof us are fortunate enough to come into a particular congregation because wewere born into a family that was part of a given community. I was born, thefourth of five children, to a Presbyterian minister and his Cherokee wife. Bothof my parents were intimately involved in the church, and when I was a verysmall child I had the misguided notion that my Daddy owned the church where heserved. I did not have to think about my relationships in this community becausemy role was clear and the expectations were defined for me.

Some people do not have the opportunity to have a natural relationship with asingle church or community. Many Americans have been brought up in very complexfamilies where their relationship to a community of faith was only in the formof a battleground between families. Others have had little or no exposure tofaith communities and have no story or experience with people in these places. Iwas given a relationship with an entire group of people, because of who myparents were and what they did. Others have had to feel their way around in thedark and find their way into communities that seem to give no clue as to who iswho and what they are doing there. There are no roadmaps of the relationships ina given church, and people often walk away because they can find no way toconnect their story to the stories of others. They are looking for how they canrelate to others, and how God fits into their life story. My goal is to givepeople tools and resources to define relationships clearly and make theconnections necessary to build community with the wonderful and unique giftsthey have, right where they are.

Centrality of Story

I will use a variety of stories to illustrate situations and experiences that Ihave had in my own faith journey (as both a clergy and lay person) that arecommon to most people who worship in a church community. But there is much moreto the story than mere illustration. For Native people, stories have power toilluminate and change the course of history. Stories both define and redefineus, as we seek God's wisdom in the midst of the story. The biblical narrativeunfolds the power of God's love for humanity in its complex and rich diversitythroughout history. We see ourselves in the lives of those who have come before,as we struggle with the parables of Jesus, just as his disciples did. Storiesare more than picture books for learning, but can generate a true spiritualmovement and an insight not gained by words and instruction alone. Narrativereasoning, the logic of wrapping oneself in the story in order to come out theother side with a new notion of truth, might be challenging for some who aresteeped in normative Western European thought. I invite you to dive into theidea of learning through story and you will discover the world around yourcongregation through the collective story, which will reveal the collectedwisdom of the community and therefore the heart of God in your midst.

The story is central to the work of this book, as you will be, over and overagain, asked to hear and retell the story of your common life as a church familyand a broader community. I firmly believe that the way forward for anystruggling congregation will be found in the story that is revealed and whichwill point to the future—to where God is calling you, as a group, to go. Many ofus give in to the notion of decline and collapse, because we haven't beenencouraged or enlightened by a story that lifts our hearts and minds and thatinvites us to join others in faith and service. Many of us have lost sight ofwhy we came to this church in the first place. If you gain nothing more thanlearning anew to delight in the community God has given you, then you will stillhave gained a future of hope and possibility. Your story and the story of yourpeople, your community, your surroundings is essential to the life of thechurch. Your story is embedded in God's story—the story that tells us that Godso loved the world (and each and every one of us) that he gave us his only Son.God gave up a child that we might all be part of God's story, of God's family.So tell your stories, knowing God is in the midst of these stories and in thehearts and minds of the people around you.

I learned this lesson quite vividly when I was a relatively new bishop. Myvisitation schedule took me to a rural parish in the western part of thediocese. The visit time was set for two o'clock in the afternoon, and I wascoming there from another church. This small parish always had an afternoonservice, so it was convenient for me to go from one town to the other. When Iarrived, only the senior warden and one other person was there. Often, thesenior warden explained, they had to wait for folks who were getting off theirmorning jobs—and who might also need to pick a up a family member on the way—beforethey could start their service. He suggested that he often began with aBible study or church school lesson, so I followed his advice.

Since it was Advent, and across the church parishes were struggling withstewardship campaigns, I talked with them a bit about stewardship. I pulled apenny out of my pocket and we talked about what a penny could buy. "Not much,today," one person said, and we went on to talk about what a penny had boughtwhen they were children. At this point, a group of about eight people hadgathered, all of them well over 70. They began to tell me about their lives aschildren, the challenges they had just trying to make ends meet, and their greatpride in their church. "This is where we all got together!" someone commented.And then they told about the people and labor that went into creating the churchbuilding. When I asked about when the church was built, everyone looked at theoldest woman there. She was regal in her dress and bearing and took her timeanswering my question. "Well," she finally said, "my cousin hadn't moved toChicago yet and she moved to Chicago in 1920, so it must be sometime rightbefore that." She told of having to wait, as a small child, until her mother andfather got done with their work, feeding and cleaning up after the Sunday mealfor their white employer, who owned the largest farm in the area. "This churchhas always been in the afternoon, since I can remember," she told me, "and weoften went on singing and praising God well into the evening!"

I went on to pull out a sandwich bag filled with pennies and we talked aboutwhat a bunch of pennies could do together. We laughed about the fact that I hadraided my daughter's piggy bank to bring all these pennies, and then we talkedabout the little we might each contribute, but how together, we could growsomething larger. Again, the oldest woman there talked about how little they hadas children, and yet how great the things they had done together had been. "Wehad a choir that you would not have believed," she said, "and we sang across thecounty and even for the governor." They told some stories of the past, but alsoof the ministries that were ongoing in their community. When several morefamilies had gathered, the senior warden suggested, quite subtly, that it wastime to begin the service. We sang and prayed and had Communion together.Afterward, we crowded into the small vestibule and shared wonderful food andmore stories. I felt rich and full when our visit was done.

As I headed out the door, the warden handed me an envelope with the church'scash contribution for the bishop's discretionary fund. In a little brownenvelope, weary and crumpled with age, were 14 dollars. Words from Mark's gospelimmediately came to mind. "Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in morethan all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them havecontributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put ineverything she had, all she had to live on." I knew I was in the presence ofthose who knew the heart and truth of Christ, and their story became for me awitness to God's abundant love in the midst of our lives. Theirs was the largestand most generous contribution my discretionary fund received.

Hearing their story and talking to them that day, the importance of story becameclear. The real impact of the gospel is in the lives of the people. No one canguess what the story of your church community is, and if they guess, they willprobably guess wrong. It takes a whole group of people sharing their experiencesfor the full story to come to light, with depth, color, and the vibrancy of aliving tradition—your tradition, your story. The power of story can be seen asthe light of the gospel story permeating and saturating the living mission ofyour congregation.