Once upon a time, about twenty years ago, we built this New Chapel.  We intentionally chose chairs instead of pews so that we could have flexible space – so that we could creatively use and reorient this space, freeing us for the movement of the Spirit.  And sometimes that arrangement is fully realized:  when we clear every chair out of this space for our guests in the Winter Shelter, when we bring in tables for Flip Flop Mass, or when we make this space an event space for Galas and Murder Mysteries.  But even when we’ve tried new accommodations for our growing choir, they have mostly been within the same space – not involving total changes like you likely experienced this morning. 

Leading up to today’s worship, I anticipated some angst.  I knew the choir would be happy, but I wondered:  Where would the households who normally sat there sit?  Who would be displaced when someone sat in their usual spot?  How would the movement of the pulpit change the experience of worship for someone who stayed in a familiar spot?  How long would the disorientation last and how many times might we have to adjust today’s arrangement before we find a new “Hickory Neck normal?”  I have watched you over the years, and I have seen parishioners graciously try to hold a pleasant face when the seat they normally like is taken – especially when the only seats left are on the dreaded front row!

At Hickory Neck, we tout one of our core values as a sense of curiosity – an openness to change.  That was one of the most attractive qualities about Hickory Neck when I was first being considered for the position of Rector here.  In truth, an openness to change and experimentation in churches is rare – a place more often associated with the line, “That’s how we’ve always done it.”  That openness has been a lifeforce for us:  as we’ve changed liturgies, as we’ve welcomed a school onto our property, as we navigated the changes and chances of a pandemic, and as we’ve navigated systemic economic and generational shifts.  That openness is a sacred inbreathing of the Holy Spirit and that openness is life.

And that kind of openness to change is not always easy or natural.  Just look at one of our main characters from the Hebrew Scriptures reading today.  Samuel has been the master of change.  He was deeply opposed to the notion of Israel’s desire for a king.  But God asked Samuel to anoint a king and so he anointed Saul as king.  Saul started out as a good king, but began to fail in the role.  And so, God told Samuel that Samuel would need to anoint a new king.  Samuel obeys again, but not without resistance.  At the beginning of the lesson for today, we find God scolding Samuel, “How long will you grieve over Saul?”  Samuel, who never wanted a king to begin with, became attached – got used to the new “way we’ve always done things.”  And in the face of change, we find Samuel grieving. 

Though we at Hickory Neck might be models of change management and followers of the movement of the Holy Spirit, that does not mean we do not have feelings – that we do not occasionally find ourselves grieving change.  Whether we are adjusting to sharing our property (did you ever notice the children at play signs we installed?), or lamenting the lack of touch during and since the pandemic (ever have someone reach out to hold your hand unexpectantly here?), or dreading the rearrangement of flip-flop mass (remember all the mosquitos, the poorly functioning mics, and the road noise when we gathered outside instead?), or that silly, almost primal, gut punch when something as simple as a seat you’ve been accustomed to is occupied and you need to sit in an unfamiliar space at church.

Here’s what we know though.  Even though Samuel grieves what has been, what he has invested in, what he has risked his reputation for, Samuel follows God’s call anyway.  We cannot underestimate that response.  Samuel was not just overcoming feelings, Samuel was also taking a tremendous risk.  Samuel articulates as much when he tells God Saul will kill Samuel if he finds out he’s anointing a new king.  “To anoint a new king while the old one lives would be seen by Saul as treason…”[i]  Even the elders of the city where the new king will be anointed are trembling when they greet Samuel.[ii]  The danger is palpable, and yet, Samuel goes and he anoints.  And not only does he anoint a new king, he anoints the most unlikely – certainly not the son of Jesse he expected as the first seven sons were presented.

What I love about this story is that this is not just a story that recalls that old timey hymn, “Trust and obey, for there’s not other way, to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.”  No, Samuel’s story is what scholar Donald Olsen calls a dance in leadership.  Olsen explains, “Samuel heard God speak and his first response was protest and inquiry.  Samuel wanted to understand the parameters and responsibilities, the realities and consequences, and gain assurance that God understood them too.  At times, God responded with more detail or altered plans, giving the impression that it was cocreative process.  At other times, God responded, ‘We will cross that bridge when we come to it.  Go!’  Samuel now acted in knowledge and faith, walking where God directed and doing as God instructed.  God’s call was not to blind obedience, but cocreated purpose, toward which Samuel walked at a steady and healthy pace.”[iii]  In fact, when describing the cocreative process, the dance of leadership in the church, Olsen adds, “Perhaps that is why David liked to dance so much; he was dancing out the details with God.”[iv]

We are in a season of cocreation, of dancing out the details with God too.  Whether we’re dreaming new ways to envision our property to ensure revenue streams for future generations of Hickory Neck, whether we are addressing immediate budget gaps with creative funding sources that can buttress our generous annual pledging, or whether we are simply rearranging furniture, the work we are doing not simple obedience, but a beautiful dance of working out the details with God.  That dance means God will push us out of our comfort zones, that sometimes God will give us insight and sometimes God will just tell us to go, and that sometimes we and others will do things that initially seem scary.  But what we know, and why we value curiosity and change so much at Hickory Neck, is that dancing with God means moving in ways that release joy and satisfaction in ways that our bodies cannot find outside the dance floor.  Amen.

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[i] Carole A. Newsom, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A., Vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 101.

[ii] Newsome, 101.

[iii] Donald P. Olsen, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A., Vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 102.

[iv] Olsen, 102.