09/07/2026
Here's what we're learning today at Redlands FUMC:
The difference in anxiety and excitement is the story we tell ourselves. We find hope in wondering what God is about to do. Grief deserves honesty and the past is worth remembering. But memory is not identity.
In Fiddler on the Roof, "tradition!" is what provides identity and stability. Then love, politics, military presence, and exile challenge them. Tradition cannot save them, but they let it evolve. They carry their faith with them into a new world with a living, shifting tradition.
If our identity is rooted in something deeper, our traditions can grow into something else as we adapt. Our belonging is not up to our anxieties or to what changes around us. It's already settled. Jesus reminds us whose we are.
In churches, we don't just argue about "things"; we argue about what they represent. A building may represent the memory of a marriage or funeral. A budget represents what we do. A tradition may be the way we stay connected to the faith of our heritage and loved ones who passed long ago.
We remember the time when a church was the center of the community, when our Sunday school halls were bursting and pews were at capacity. It's no wonder we remember the past with nostalgia, but faith is not preserved by standing still.
Our grandparents inherited a church shaped by the world their parents and grandparents had lived in and shaped it anew to their times. Then we inherited their church, and we are the stewards of it for our time, ready to hand it on to the next generations after us.
What is God inviting us to become? It's discernment and then decision-making. What is possible and what is faithful? We prioritize seeking that invitation in prayer and conversation above the priorities of spreadsheets and efficiency.
What if holy ground is found not just in a sanctuary but around tables and in conversations that center empathy, growth, and respect, so we can continue adapting generation after generation. That's not abandoning tradition but staying rooted while continuing to grow.
We are not in a season of crisis, but we are in a season of deciding what to become. We need both: treasuring the past but also the vision of the future, not being afraid to grow new branches. Like a tree in autumn, we let go and stay rooted, knowing who we have been and who we are and looking forward to what we will become. Some people see only what is falling, but we see the preparation for growth. Life is still at work beneath the surface.
We will try new things. Some changes will feel refreshing and some will be unsettling. We're not a museum to the past or a trend-chasing corporation. We're listening for the voice of the Spirit. We will discern together in trust and love as siblings in Christ. We aren't conflict free but conflict worthy. Healthy churches don't preserve the past for the sake of it or change for the sake of it, but follow the movement of God in our time and place, wherever that may lead.
