Welcome to two-dimensional screens, Zoom rooms, mute buttons and voting icons.
Welcome to worship online. Is there a seat at the Lord’s Table online? Seminary commencement, confirmation and new member orientation… online. Welcome to Bible study, session meetings and youth game night… online. Have we not gathered in the name of Christ to proclaim the resurrection on behalf of those who have died… online?
If not by the grace of God.
House church, handwritten notes, casseroles on porches, lunches for homeless neighbors, public statements of hope and prayerful sighs too deep for words fill our spaces with purposeful waiting and serving. The church is still the church.
During our ubiquitous anguish and two-dimensional screens yielding three-dimensional cacophonies of partisanship, fear and human suffering, the world is restless yet still hunkered down. The embodied grief of our disembodied communities is disorienting. It sits just below the surface of every “official” statement. It infuses each conversation on every device. It dwells in every room, at every dinner table, within every tent on every street corner, deep within every heart.
Yet, ours is not a story of brokenness. Mask or no mask, the breath of God has managed to penetrate far more precarious boundaries than those presented in the name of humanity’s well-being. That dove finally found her ark. Job’s despair was eventually interrupted by the whirlwind of God’s voice. Jonah spent three dark days in the belly of a cavernous fish. Joseph landed in the darkest pit. Elijah couldn’t socially distance himself fast enough. King David quarantined himself in a cave. God showed up.
The exiled Gerasene was chained amongst the tombs. Joseph of Arimathea was certain the vault was sealed shut! The disciples hid, then locked themselves behind a door. Then they escaped to their boats. Jesus showed up.
Huddled in another room, a sound like a rushing wind filled the entire house. Letter upon letter flowed beyond the prison walls of Paul’s cell. Many wing-battered, broken hearted, hopeful Presbyterians have gathered at the General Assembly to seek God’s illumined path — the path of courage, the path of hope. The Spirit showed up.
The 167th General Assembly voted to permit the ordination of women in 1956. The 176th assembly elected the venerable Edler G. Hawkins, our first African American moderator, in 1964. The 191st assembly ruled all congregations must elect men and women to the office of ruling elder in 1979. Reunification finally occurred in 1983. The 221st GA affirmed the marriage of our LGBTQ siblings in 2014. The dove must get exhausted, but the Spirit shows up.
Our story is not one of brokenness, but of a love so deep the Word became flesh and a Parent’s heart broke over a Son’s broken body, a promised love so profound that it transcends the barriers of sin and bounds of pandemics in order to transform the world. Our gatherings may be virtual, but God’s presence is still quite real.
So yeah, welcome to the 224th General Assembly online. It’s a big deal. Take heart all you Robert’s Rules-toting, polity-loving, justice-seeking, room-Zooming, peace-pursuing Presbyterians — the Dove has taken flight!
Lori Archer Raible is pastor of Selwyn Avenue Presbyterian Church in Charlotte, North Carolina.
