What Do We Do Now?
What Do We Do Now?
What do we do now?
As someone who guides faith communities and institutions in the work of discerning how to follow God’s call, and how they can best steward their resources to serve their mission in a given context, this question has long held relevance. As we think about raising money and leading congregations—especially when we know that the “now” is riddled with anxiety—this question feels more relevant than ever.
What does it look like to give voice to this experience of uncertainty and lead in light of the changes and losses our collective grief points toward? My experience tells me that deep questions like this need answers that meet the real world challenges faith communities and their leaders face. So it is the question, “What do we do now?” that shows up and is articulated out of the real dirt, the down to earth, lived experiences of ministry.
- What do leaders say when we don’t know our future or the shape of the Church in the years ahead?
- What do we say when we are not feeling excited all the time, but instead feel the exhaustion and grief of so much loss?
- How do we return to God when there is much to distract us?
Donor motivations are shifting
ECMN is full of generous givers. In my 12 years in this diocese, I have been surprised over and over by the ways people work towards repair in faithful ways.
Last month, Dan White wrote a piece about different narratives that guide people’s relationship to money and their giving. His words beautifully named how our giving reflects the diversity of creation: we were made and have been shaped by different contexts and experiences. Psychologists tell us that our earliest experiences shape how we translate new information. We are constantly trying to filter and fit information into our existing narrative. That’s why two people can share an experience and come away with fundamentally different recollections!
People will give for many reasons. If stewardship is a pastoral ministry, then learning about these motivations helps us meet people where they are. Maybe, it will even help us learn about ourselves.
Studies have shown a marked rise in giving motivated by a desire for agency, feelings of anger, pain, and a desire for meaning-making in response to mortality. What do we do now?
Newer ways of responding to this age-old question have emerged. Faith communities are able to speak authentically to a rare collective experience of living in “unprecedented times.” Drawing on a shared sense of grief, leaders can invite their members to serve, participate, and even give as a faithful and holy response to the pain of loss. Such an approach opens up space for ambiguity, healing, and for the Divine to lead us forward into the unknown.
These emerging responses highlight the need to acknowledge the experience of those in our pews and to constantly assess and reassess our operating theologies. Frankly, old theologies of abundance, often born more of privilege and from communities out of touch with suffering, will not hold the theological or spiritual depth to meet the groundswell of collective suffering and grief we are all experiencing.
Rather than reflecting on the abundance given in our individual lives, what if the past few years have shown us that we don’t belong just to ourselves, but to one another? How could this new sense of belonging and the solidarity that comes from a collective experience of loss change our motivations for giving? Our giving allows us to set a larger table for others and to work to repair a world in need of healing.
What is God calling us to?
When we think about gifts, there has been a long-held focus in the church on the Three Ts: time, talent, and treasure. I believe initially the idea of holistic stewardship was amorphous, too hard to wrap our minds around. Instead, leaders offered tangible things that could be offered to God. However, our bodies, and souls are not limited to just these three Ts. We are more than the time we give, our skills and expertise, more than the money we provide. We are flesh and blood bodies. Our minds and souls, connected in profound ways, were created by the same divine power that made the earth and the heavens and called it good.
Stewardship is not limited to these three components. It includes the totality of our beings. In the ministry of stewardship, we bring our whole selves to the Divine.
What does stewardship of our bodies, our minds, our souls look like this year with a contentious and divisive election looming?
Our family has begun having conversations about our values. What does God call us to be and to do the next day after the election? Identifying our values now allows our family to move beyond places that may feel out of our control to plan proactively who we will be on Day One.
Once our values are identified, we articulate who the people are that may be most impacted by the election. How might God call us to invite, to manage, to give to, and to thank in the midst of that reality?
In this season of the election, I invite faith communities to authentically name the complexity of feelings and motivations that fill our congregations. As we name, we can ask God for holy release of what may burden us and complicate our giving. And finally, through the practice of naming and releasing, we can draw closer to a God that loves us. In this way we can join with God in the work of repairing of the world with love.
Erin Weber-Johnson is a lay theologian and partner at Vandersall Collective, a faith-based, women & queer led organization. She has worked for over two decades as a fundraising and strategic planning consultant and educator. A published author, she strives to root her work in practical theology while utilizing her experience in the nonprofit sector.