Second Friday of Advent

Scripture Reading for Today:

Psalm 126; Habakkuk 3:2-6; Philippians 3:12-16

On the Sewing Room Floor

by Keitha Ogbogu

Author

Keitha Ogbogu is the lead pastor at West Springs Church in Calgary, Alberta. A former teacher, she is passionate about the power of mentorship and especially enjoys encouraging young men and women who are called to preach, to speak and to lead. Her pastoral work has affirmed her love for the nations, her pursuit of justice and, of course, her call to preach. She believes that the church holds the potential to participate in the transformation of neighbourhoods, cities and individuals when we get it right. She is married to Cyril and together they are raising three black princes, Samuel, Emmanuel and Ezra.

This past summer as the kids played in their pools and begged me for more and more bubble solution and popsicles, I stumbled upon a feature from the podcast, OnScript. The episode focused on the work of Ted Smith and his latest book, The End of Theological Education. I was unfamiliar with his work, but this particular episode invited me to listen and re-listen to his words as they called me to something new. As the title of his book suggests, his focus is on academia, however, his words spoke equally well to the season that the church finds herself. The season in which those of us who are still connected to the church in Canada, find ourselves.

A season of decline.

Declining attendance, declining power, declining presence, declining position.

Decline, a word that has become popular in evangelical discourse, but Smith offered something different, in fact, he rejected the word decline as a fair descriptor of the times we are in. He noted that a better word, or rather his preferred word, is “Unravel.” A word that offers us a renewed picture and an almost hidden reminder. A reminder that what we are experiencing is not simply a reflection of the missteps of the church and the changing culture around the church, but it is also God’s response to such missteps and change. The word unravelling, thereby, is not a reference to an accidental action, rather it is a reflection of an intentional God.

“Unravelling.” Smith’s words formed an image that remained with me. A picture of the Holy Spirit sitting with a thread puller and a seam ripper taking the well-worn and well-intentioned but increasingly irrelevant and harmful pieces of our lived-out imagination of the church apart. Threadbare squares of material put aside, detached collars and bodice pieces piled up, and colourful woven pieces transformed into piles of colourful thread. The sewing room of God is now filled with the unraveled bits and pieces of all that we have created in our own image and with our insufficient strength and power.

It is the unraveling of our best efforts, our great ideas, our modern-day pedestal-placed preachers, our boxes of God, our idolization of institutions, our collusion with power, our pursuit of profit, and our declarations of “Peace!” when there is no peace – just to name a few.

An unravelling that is easy enough to write about but deeply painful to experience and difficult to name.

That which is coming apart are the very things that we built and we declared holy. Yet, for all of our good intentions, to see the threads of our systems come undone can feel like an attack, rather than a blessing.

It is no wonder that we are tempted to cling to the frayed edges and make attempts to gather bodice pieces, trouser hems and stray buttons in order to put it all back together, exactly as it was. Yet, the unravelling persists, for God is on the move.

But what if all of this frantic gathering of thread and fabric squares to piecemeal back together is nothing more than fear showing its ruthless self?

Fear that the God who is known for doing a new thing will not offer us new wineskins, a new way forward, a stream in a dry land.

But what if this unraveling is not intended to lead us to fear, but is an unexpected invitation to sit among the wisps of threads, the unwoven strings, the piles of undone cloths so we can listen and observe?

Listen to the Spirit’s seam rippers.

Watch where the threads are being pulled.

Bear witness to the fabric laid aside.

Observe the process by which some cloths are being unwoven and others, deemed useless, discarded.

Holy work in a holy space, the Spirit’s sewing room floor.

As we observe in this space, finally able to call it holy rather than fearful, we can watch work of the Spirit unravel our very hearts. It is here that I imagine we are as those described in Psalm 126:5 and 6. In their longing and prayer for God to do a new thing, in the most impossible of spaces, they sow seed in dry ground.

Sowing With weeping,

Sowing With tears,

Sowing With hope.

The Psalmist is confident that while they plant their seeds with weeping, they will reap a harvest with joy and singing.

But in the meantime, they wait with tears in their eyes.

They weep as they wait for God to make good on the promise, that all will be made new.

As we, the church in Canada, watch the Spirit’s skillful and perfect unravelling, feeling the pulls and tugs on our hearts, in our church communities and among our very own creations, we have the opportunity to learn the Holy Spirit’s rhythms of undoing and unravelling. We get to be apprentices to the work that happens on the sewing room floor, watching, listening and observing what must remain and what must be undone. As such we are invited to join in with this holy work of unravelling.

Doing so with tears in our eyes as we wait for God to make good on the promise, that all will be made new.

Perhaps in our day and time, the Psalmist might suggest that those who unravel with tears will weave new patterns and clothes with joy. For those of us who weep as seams are torn and fragile threads are gathered, one day we will sing as we are invited to participate in making all things new. Joy will emerge and songs will come as the same Spirit who began the unraveling wipes the tears from our eyes and exchanges our thread pullers and seam rippers for sewing needles and weaving looms.

In the meantime, though tears may fall, we find beauty in the unravelling.

“Restore our fortunes, Lord, as streams renew the desert. Those who plant in tears will harvest with shouts of joy. They weep as they go to plant their seed, but they sing as they return with the harvest”

Psalm 126:4-6 NLT

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