Tell me something good

This pandemic year was tough. When taken at face value, the facts for most ministries are depressing: attendance was low, finances were zero, members were frustrated by zoom or masks or lack of food or coffee or childcare. Many leaders quit, the weight of backseat criticizers, their own pandemic stress, or simply the challenge of crisis leadership too much for them to handle.  It would be tempting to assume that in a year full of disappointment and grief, nothing good happened. But I know better.  As a leadership coach, I’ve had a front-row seat to watch God move in the midst of the mess this year. To prove what I already knew to be true in my heart, I made this simple request of my leaders in our meetings this month: “Tell me something good.” The stories they shared were nothing short of remarkable.

“Because numbers were smaller, the group felt more intimate. That made a woman who had been attending our group for two years finally comfortable enough to some details about her abusive marriage. With our support, she’s getting the help she needs.”

“A mom who had been very anti-anything-churchy was so desperate for connection during the pandemic she decided to take a risk and try us out. She told us that the connections she made in our group this year were the main reason she kept her mental health this year.”

“The ladies on my team served with a purpose and a dedication I don’t think we could have achieved otherwise. We are so bonded now.”

“A circle of moms started a hiking club so they could see each other in person, in the safety of the outdoors. They’re going to keep it going indefinitely. That never would have happened if things had been the same.”

“We started a night group and an entire population of working moms was able to find connection for the first time.”

“We started a virtual group and dozens of new moms showed up, even though the digital space isn’t anyone’s ideal.”

“We realized that the old way of doing things wasn’t really serving us anymore. The pandemic allowed us to restart and reframe our group to keep connection and relationship at the center.”

I listened to literally dozens of stories, just like these. Stories of women and leaders, who when the pandemic put their backs against the wall, kept on fighting for what mattered most: connection. It wasn’t easy. It required hard decisions and extreme flexibility and a willingness to keep showing up even when no one else did. But these leaders stepped up, even it was inconvenient or scary or required sacrifice, and God honored their hard work and their heart for serving others.  These leaders saw firsthand that God is as much in the storm as he is in the sunshine. 

So as the end to the pandemic creeps closer and closer, as much as everyone wants to get back to “normal,” I hope we can pause and see what crisis lessons we can take with us.

That said, here is my “new normal” benediction:

May we keep our survivor mentality - the mindset that declares we will overcome any and all obstacles in our way and do whatever it takes to live another day and reach another mom.

May we stay freedom seekers - shaking off the old way of doing things, stripping off the fluff, trampling the sacred cows, and reevaluating every aspect of how we communicate, connect and invest in relationships.

May we continue to be innovators - throwing any and every idea against the wall to see what sticks, not just thinking, but living outside the box, passionate in the idea that failure is a sign that we are taking risks and breaking new ground.

May we continue to lead with humility - even if it’s inconvenient or only one other person shows up, remembering that for her, this conversation may be the difference between life and death.

May we be examples of agape - remembering that especially in dark times, people are watching to see if when we say we love others, that we continue to go first, show up, throw open the doors, and invite everyone in.

And, may we remember that God uses all things for his good - that the hardships we endured this year have a divine purpose, though we may never see the fruits of our labor. 

Amen.