Consider the Lilies

Being a leader in any setting in these days is harder than any of us might have imagined. I thought about this while I was in a car listening to the news and some commentary about the president. Every presidency is probably harder than the person serving in that office might have expected. But the last few weeks have certainly brought the kind of challenges for all of the political leaders in our country that, if taken by themselves, would have been enough to keep the leader and their staff busy around the clock. That is one of the reasons we are encouraged to pray for our leaders—whether we voted for them or not—since their decisions affect all of us.

Of course, leaders of congregations have also been facing challenges that we could not have imagined. Like the Facebook meme that I saw said, “I did not know that I was going to be the chaplain for the apocalypse.” When we picked up our purses and briefcases and computers and fled our offices and church buildings in March of 2020, did we think that we would be where we are today?

Now some of you are having to engage in a heated debate about the wearing of masks again. Some of you are readying yourselves and your congregations for the beginning of the “program year” but what will that be like this year? Some of you are using your best pastoral skills with people who are as divided as we can remember in our lifetimes over the direction our country should take.

I was on the faculty of Transitional Ministry Education last week. We did a word cloud at the end and asked these pastors to say how they are feeling. The most-used word was “tired” with “sad” not far behind. How can we as leaders possibly find the wherewithal to keep going, especially if we are expected to be cheerful and upbeat and optimistic? For surely it sometimes feels like the weight of the world is on our shoulders.

But perhaps you will remember these words: “Which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to their span of life? . . . Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these . . . Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself.”

I invite you to just sit quietly for a few seconds and watch the video that accompanies this note (click here or on the image to go to the video), taken in my garden in May. Remember these words from the Sermon on the Mount. And remember this: those daisies finished blooming soon after this video was taken and then were not visible for all of these months. But the plants that produced this beauty in the spring are blooming again—not in the same way they did, but blooming nonetheless. And, they have scattered so many seeds in my garden that I have to remove some of the seedlings lest I have a garden that is only daisies next year. They will be back, just like this in the spring. They are surely a sign of hope, the same kind of hope that we are called to bring into the world in Jesus’ name.
The Rev. Sue Krummel, Executive Presbyter
Presbytery of Chicago