It’s a hard time to be in the church business. It’s difficult to be a parishioner watching one’s congregation getting smaller and smaller and trying to get one’s head around the overwhelmingly difficult decisions that are looming. It’s difficult to be a pastor, offering pastoral care to those parishioners while also trying to provide leadership, meaningful worship and a bit of cheerleading too. In the midst of the great shifts in the religious landscape in the United States, there are countless local churches struggling to figure out what’s next in the midst of a reality they never imagined (and, for some, a reality that they stridently deny).

As the pastor of a small congregation that’s struggling to figure out how to move forward in these challenging times, there’s a lot on one’s “worry” plate. There’s a lot to do to provide guidance, with a fair number of strange and unexpected bumps along the way. There are the frustrations that come from very understandable places, but they are still frustrations. There’s the grief that is sometimes expressed in straightforward ways, but mostly in not so straightforward ways, adding to the long list of frustrations. And, there’s my own experience and my own feelings of being a pastor in a shrinking church, learning how to be a pastor in a way that wasn’t part of the curriculum when I was at divinity school in the early 1990s. I may very well be the last in a long line of pastors who have served Old South. It’s not just the parishioners who are feeling overwhelmed.

So it is, that moments of grace stand out in starker relief. While these moments may not even out the frustrations, they seem to be making sure that it’s not all about the frustrations and grief. Recently, I’ve noticed several moments of grace that have reminded me of the significance of what we do as we gather as church.

One the most significant moments of grace happened not long after I announced one of my big plans/hopes for the fall: I wanted to record individual members of Old South sharing a little something about what they find special about the church community. I wasn’t looking for long lists or summaries, but short one-to-two minute snippets that I could upload to our webpage. On the Sunday when I announced this grand plan, I saw a lot of not so excited faces. Great, I thought, this big plan might end up never getting off the ground. I felt all of my excitement drain away. After the worship service, a woman who’s a member and attends regularly, approached me and declared that she wanted to go first in sharing what’s special about Old South. She certainly wasn’t the last woman I would have guessed would volunteer, but she wasn’t anywhere near the top of the list. But, there she was, not only delighted at the prospect of sharing something about what she finds special, but excited about taking the first slot. Clearly, a moment of unexpected and wondrous grace.

Another moment took place this week at our weekly Bible study meeting. The group has been on hiatus since June and this week, we held our first meeting of the fall. Three new people attended (doubling the number of people who usually attend) and the discussion was lively, interesting and engaged. And, full of an almost palpable feeling of grace. Old South may be small and shrinking, but there is, at times, a noticeable presence of faith that is strong and resilient.

What moment of grace will make itself known next? I might like to be able to put together a wish list, but I know it doesn’t work that way. Instead, I will endeavor to be on the lookout for those surprising moments that offer not only a glimpse into the blessing of grace, but a welcome refuge in the midst of a difficult time.