The Dinner Guest
of Change

Change is the dinner guest we never want to see pacing our porch as we are putting the finishing touches on our well-orchestrated life. Without warning, perhaps a little earlier than anticipated, which is always rude, Change doesn't seem to remember the invitation or the rules of engagement - you arrive when I say the time is right. Distressed, you make the final adjustments to the space to welcome your guest, Change, who is growing increasingly impatient. As you open the door, you hear the creak, giving the audible groans of its wear and age. You exclaim, as your guest enters, "Here, look, everything has been arranged, and it's just the way I like it: put together, in its place."

I can still recall the moment a colleague and friend approached me; he had been serving the church plant where I was the lead pastor. My colleague disclosed, his voice trembling as if it were a prophetic physiological response to the inevitable shifting circumstances, that it was time for him to embrace his fullest identity as a gay man. Head hung in shame, he acknowledged the significant impact this moment would have on him, his family, and his livelihood, as well as on our shared ministry. He offered me an out, a way to keep things exactly the way I had intended: neatly folded napkins; the proper place setting with the appropriate silverware to elevate people's perception; intentionally arranged stainless steel appliances in the kitchen; and a farm table to welcome people into my life.

He sat at my table. Of course, this friend — dare I say spiritual hero — understood; it was going to change things for me too. It's ironic how the unintended guest, like Change, doesn't just move something small, something manageable — Change reorients, acting as an interior decorator and a declutter expert, Marie Kondo'ing everything in its path because it sparked a bit too much "joy." I've come to find that the one constant that seems cyclical in our lives is that change will arrive. We can courageously embrace it, or we can be cowards, clinging to the way things had been. His change meant I had to adjust my life, but it also gave me the opportunity to fully celebrate my calling as an ally to the LGBTQ+ community and, more importantly, to put my claimed theological belief of Jesus' way into practice.

Did it have implications for my life? Did I have to relearn where Change put my neatly placed appliances? Did I stub my toe trying to walk into the room that once housed a TV stand, only to find a microwave in the middle of it? YES! These shifts emerged in the form of lost friendships, evaporated speaking opportunities, health insurance in limbo, denominational affiliation, and a working out of new theology.

We can't stop change, but we can learn the new layout that it requires. We can embrace it and find a little more of the grace, the Grace we have called "Change" for so long. The Grace that has gone ahead of us making changes, the Grace that, RUDELY, showed up earlier than intended, and the Grace that has us exactly where it intended us to be. May you find the courage to embrace the Grace that has always been, will always be, and continues to move us into the future as it's intended.