“You know that you’re never gonna get those footprints off the floor. And if you try, there’s just going to be more when you turn around.”
These were the words of one of our community members as he looked at the lobby floor during an evening ministry event.
The only thing I could think to say was, “It’s better to have footprints on the floor than cobwebs on the walls.”
I don’t often think about cobwebs, but it is spooky season. Halloween, kicks off a busy season that doesn’t stop until the new year. With this increase in activity, I’ve been thinking about how much more faithful it is to have footprints and signs of use in a building that’s well loved for ministry than one that collects dust and gives spiders a place to make comfortable homes, all for the sake of preserving what has always been.
I’m constantly reminded that the church is called to be a living organism (body). One with spirit and DNA, one that goes through times of plenty and times of hardship. But through it all, we’re called to be a community that responds to the needs of the people who are part of it and the people we are called to serve.
Inevitably, that means things get messy.
Things often seem to move from their rightful places to some random location, as if Casper the Friendly Ghost is playing tricks on us at night. Of course, our video system never seems to catch him in the act.
A church with a few scratches on the walls, or even a few dents on its heart from loving the community fully, is a church where people can find a place to belong.
Bright, shiny, and perfect are wonderful ideals. But it’s hard to find your place when it feels like we’re so busy protecting avoiding the inevitable misshap.
As we approach All Saints’ Day, I’m reminded that the church is called to be a faith lab for the living rather than a museum for the dead.
We honor those saints who have finished their course of faith before us and entered into the promise of life after death. But honoring them doesn’t mean preserving everything exactly as it was. We’re still living, growing, experimenting, and discovering what it means to follow Jesus in the world around us.
The “what” and the “how” might change from days gone by, but that’s because we’re still working toward the same “why” that has guided generations before us. Our why is to make disciples of Jesus. The programs that fill our calendars and the ways we connect with our neighbors may look different, but the reason behind them hasn’t changed.
In fact, using the church fully is a continuation of the work of the saints. Think about a parent watching their children grow into and use the gifts they’ve been blessed with. Isn’t that what we hope for? That those gifts won’t simply be tucked away for safekeeping, but put to good use? I would hope the saints who built our buildings and helped shape our ministries would be proud to see us making the most of what they’ve entrusted to us.
This isn’t an excuse to be careless or cavalier with the things we’ve been called to steward. Of course, that includes our physical buildings and the responsibilities of our trustees. But being faithful stewards of the people and communities we’ve been entrusted to serve might be an even larger part of that responsibility.
Footprint-filled lobbies are one way we honor those who came before us. They’re signs that we’re still living into the love and invitation Jesus models so deeply, the Spirit keeps nudging us toward, and God, our loving parent, draws us into as one big family.
So, when all the fake spiderwebs from our Halloween decorations are put away, how might we hold a little more loosely to the expectation that every footprint must be mopped up?
How might we make space for real connection and life to happen, even if that means a little more mess along the way?
Perhaps in doing so, we’ll find our hearts transformed and our spirits renewed, growing together in a faith and love that passes our understanding.
May you make a holy mess of things this day.
