Room for Questions
In the late 1990s, my home church in Florida made one of the most consequential decisions in its history. The congregation had worshiped in the same location for nearly a hundred years. By the time I became involved as a layperson, parts of the property surrounding the church had already been sold to help keep the congregation afloat. What remained was expensive to maintain, difficult to access, and offered little room for the kinds of ministries the congregation hoped to develop.
Eventually, the church voted to leave that location and build somewhere new.
There were reasonable arguments for doing so. Accessibility mattered. Maintenance costs mattered. The hope of creating space for new ministries, especially ministries with children, mattered.
Looking back, however, I still wonder whether there was enough room to question some of the assumptions behind the proposal.
Would a new building actually lead to the growth people hoped for? What might the congregation lose by leaving a place so deeply woven into its history? What financial burdens would come with constructing and maintaining something new? Was the consensus strong enough to carry the congregation through a change of that magnitude?
Perhaps some of those questions were discussed in conversations of which I was not a part. I was a layperson without a complete view of the process. From where I stood, however, there seemed to be more room for enthusiasm than uncertainty.
I learned something from that experience.
A reasonable proposal can still be discerned poorly.
Good reasons do not automatically produce a good process. A majority vote does not always indicate a healthy consensus. Questions do not necessarily mean that people are opposed to change, just as enthusiasm for change does not mean that every assumption behind it has been adequately tested.
Many years later, I find myself thinking about that church as CPC considers how to remain financially healthy and faithful in changing circumstances.
Our Financial Health Team has been exploring a range of possibilities. Some would involve relatively modest adjustments. Others would represent more significant changes. Exploration does not mean that the team has endorsed every possibility, nor does it mean that decisions have already been made. Responsible discernment requires us to understand our options before we can evaluate them.
Yet possibilities have a way of sounding like decisions as they travel from one conversation to another.
An idea mentioned for consideration becomes something “they” are planning to do. A hypothetical option becomes a rumor. Positions begin to form before the congregation has received complete information or had an opportunity to speak and listen together.
Then we begin to hear about sacred cows and dealbreakers.
Those phrases may point toward genuine concerns, but they can also bring discernment to a premature end. What one person dismisses as a sacred cow may hold another person’s memories, relationships, or understanding of the church’s identity. What someone declares a dealbreaker may conceal a fear that has not yet found better words.
Before dismissing something as a sacred cow, we might ask why it matters so deeply.
Before announcing a dealbreaker, we might ask what fear lies beneath it.
Instead of saying, “We can never change that,” we might say, “Here is what I fear we would lose.”
Instead of insisting, “This is what we have to do,” we might say, “Here is what I hope this possibility could make possible.”
Instead of assuming that a question signals resistance, we might become curious about the experience that gave rise to it.
None of this guarantees agreement. Healthy discernment does not require us to pretend that every option is equally wise or that every concern can be resolved to everyone’s satisfaction. Eventually, choices must be made. Some possibilities will be rejected. Others may become recommendations. Any significant decision will require the congregation to weigh what might be gained, what might be lost, and what best supports our shared mission.
But we are not there yet.
For now, our task is to make room for questions. We need room for hope and fear, imagination and caution, enthusiasm and uncertainty. We need to distinguish between the mission we are called to preserve and the particular forms through which we have carried it until now.
Our stewardship theme this year is A Firm Foundation. A Living Faith.
A firm foundation does not require everything built upon it to remain unchanged. Neither does a living faith chase every new possibility simply because it is new. Grounded in Christ, we can examine our circumstances honestly, test our assumptions carefully, and listen to one another generously.
Some ideas now being explored may prove unwise. Others may contain possibilities we cannot yet see. We will not discover the difference by silencing questions or declaring premature dealbreakers.
We will discover it by making room for one another.
And for the questions that may help us find a faithful way forward.