We were a church plant

Church of the Redeemer was “planted” 8 years ago as a handful of people meeting in the cafeteria of a high school. Since that time, through the grace of our namesake, this plant has grown and changed in both predictable and extraordinary ways.

There is a fancy word that I can’t remember which indicates when a church plant in our denomination is no longer a supported “plant” but is its own entity. That declaration was made awhile back for our congregation, but I still think of us as a growing plant, with roots growing deeper and deeper. And what makes those roots grow down is the stuff of life, the journeying together, through whatever God sends. It seems it’s the celebrations and, even more so perhaps, the tears that water the life-anchoring roots.

We’ve celebrated as our members have married each other, and we danced at their receptions. We’ve ridden the roller-coaster of the adoption process with families, and cried and cheered when their children came home. Tears of joy have been shed when members were healed – coming through brain surgery, pancreatic cancer and other scary things.

And we’ve cried tears of grief together when we lost precious little Zeke, just a couple days shy of his first birthday.

This past weekend we mourned together again at the memorial service for one of the leaders and beloved fathers of our congregation. In the past month, as Kofi suddenly was diagnosed with the cancer that ended his life here on earth, our church put down some long, strong roots. Or maybe we were able to feel the ones that already existed better.

How beautiful it was to see how so many jumped forward to be at the side of the family suffering. There was no shortage of friends willing to spend hours at the man’s bedside, even in the middle of the night. Throughout Kofi’s time at the hospice facility, his friends surrounded him and stayed by him day and night. Other friends cared for the children of the family, coordinated and prepared meals for weeks, helped with paperwork, plans, and hard decisions. A few women coordinated the volunteers for preparing food to serve 500 at the memorial service reception. I could go on and on… The church was truly a family.

In this day and age, when people are reluctant to commit to anything or anyone, and people move around and jump to new situations so frequently, it seems to be a rare thing to have a community so willing to serve and love each other selflessly.

Even without a physical building to call our own, this “church-in-a-box” has grown from a small plant to something stronger and thicker– a shrub? a cactus? a tree? that has weathered many climates and storms, and has beauty and strength given by our Redeemer. And I am thankful to be a part of this rare and precious phenomenon.