How Do We Bring About Change?

Abiding in Hope

by

How do we bring about change?

Not change for change’s sake. Not the sort of change that results in a new couch because I am desperately tired of the old one. I mean the sort of change that makes life better for people, that makes us all more loving, and that makes for a more peaceful planet. The sort of change that points the world toward God’s intention at creation.

How do we bring about that change?

The Commission on the Status and Role of Women (COSROW) is just one of the teams at work in the Iowa Annual Conference. I serve on COSROW, and our team is reviewing salary equity between clergymen and clergywomen in the Iowa Annual Conference. We are also advocating for survivors of domestic violence. Another committee, The Conference Antiracism Team, is urging United Methodist churches to stand against racism to “build a future that lives up to the highest ideals of kin-dom on earth evidenced by equality and justice.”*

As I am writing this the General Conference of The United Methodist Church has convened in Charlotte, North Carolina. Our denomination has gone through a careful process of disaffiliation resulting from differing interpretations of the Bible and understandings of human sexuality. Now The UMC is challenged with the task of living into the conviction that all are welcome in our churches.

How do we bring about change?

I suppose the first challenge is accepting the idea of change. Our resistance to change is ironic because we human beings are in a constant state of change as we age. Children grow up. Youth become adults. Adults grow old. It’s the inevitability of living.

With aging comes experience. Toddlers explore everything as they change from crawling creatures to wobbling on two feet to racers faster than their parents. We enter school and are surrounded by new ideas and opportunities. One summer we learn to swim. We visit museums and hike through forests. We learn to kick a soccer ball or play the piano. We bake pies. We go fly fishing or we learn to knit. Life becomes richer with each experience, and along with experience comes wisdom.  We grow and our lives become richer and more fulfilling. We change.

And more important than hiking or baking, through our experiences, we encounter people. We have only two eyes to see the world and two ears to hear its melodies, but when we share our lives with others, our perception of the world becomes richer. 

And yet even with the inevitability of change and all this goodness, even with a scripture that beckons us forward with God’s words “see I am making all things new,” we are resistant to change, especially when it comes to our thinking. We change our socks. We change careers. We change our address, but changing our thinking is a challenge.

How do we bring about that kind of change?

Churches struggle with change. Walk through your sanctuary. Generally speaking, sanctuaries are a testament to the past. Even the most contemporary sanctuaries can call us back to a “remember when” moment. Remember when Tyler was baptized at this font? Remember Christmas Eve when we stood together to sing “Silent Night?” Remembering is rich and wonderful, but it need not be a barrier to change. Our churches do have rich pasts, but as we remember the past can we also remember that God has a rich future planned for us too, if we open ourselves to change?  (See the note below about church and change.)

How do we bring about that sort of change?

I think change begins when the voices of those who have been silenced are allowed to tell their stories. The domestic violence survivor, the person who has faced racism, the hundreds of United Methodists gathered in Charlotte living into their conviction, when their voices are released and their stories are told, new possibilities emerge. A story told in truth has power. Abide in Christ, and the truth will set us free. Jesus told us that.

Of course, the telling of stories is only half the equation. Someone must listen. Jesus did a lot of listening. The man chained in the tombs, Blind Bartimaeus, the woman caught in adultery, Jesus could have turned away, but he didn’t. He listened to the stories of their lives. He heard them.

Listening can be hard. We may be afraid of what we will hear and what it will demand of us. Anxiety is really fear of change, and we may want to slam the door on any hint of change. Our privilege can blind our eyes and stop up our ears with the hum of our own egos. Privilege can create in us faulty assumptions: doesn’t everyone else have the same opportunities I have? Don’t I deserve my status? Haven’t I earned it? Privilege is a foxhole we can hide in to prevent ourselves from facing change. 

But the telling-listening equation is so beautiful only God could have created it. Only God could combine truth-telling and compassionate listening, hand it off to the Holy Spirit, and bring about the holy change we need in the world.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr said, "The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice." Greta Thunberg, the Swedish climate activist, said “Change is coming whether you like it or not.” Could both be prophets voicing what the Holy Spirit has placed on their hearts?

The stories Jesus heard became so much a part of him, that when he crawled on the cross and opened his arms wide, those ancient stories and our current stories today climbed onto the cross with him. Our human stories, tempered with mercy and forgiveness, were resurrected into God’s hope for the world. On that cross, the world changed.

How do we bring about change?

Our prayers go out to those serving on conference committees and those who serve the local church. We pray that truth-telling stories are shared at General Conference and deep listening receives them. We pray for our local churches, rich with history and just as rich with an unfolding future.

How do we bring about change?  Tell. Listen. Follow the Holy Spirit.  

(Note: 

Dear Laity, the most weary thing for any pastor is a church that is afraid of change. When fear outweighs faith, pastors quickly become discouraged and exhausted.

Dear Clergy, change in the church is not dictatorial. You are not the Boss of Change. Change in the church is collaborative. It is an opportunity to build community as we ask “How do we love God and neighbor in this time and place?” It is a holy adventure.) 

*From the conference website https://actionnetwork.org/forms/iaumc-stands-against-racism/

The Rev. Cindy Hickman is a retired clergy member of the Iowa Annual Conference. This post is from "Abiding in Hope," a spiritual devotion  series that began during the coronavirus epidemic and has evolved into an ongoing resource.