The Space Between

Faithful living in times of Transition, Loss, Change, and Grief

It is hard to accurately convey how proud I am of our church.  Throughout this year I have

wanted, and hopefully made known, my love for our church and how I am deeply grateful for the work you do.  Honestly, I don’t know if we celebrate the people of our congregation or those working behind the scenes enough.  Every once and a while a warm feeling of gratitude washes over me and I become increasingly proud of our church.  I start to think of the work you do and the purpose by which you carry it out.  You care for those in our community, those in need in our area and abroad all the while looking after the saints of the church. Our congregation has been brave enough to wrestle with the big questions about the future. Not resigned to slowly go off into that fair night—to battle with the status quo, to find a way forward even when things seem uncertain.  This battle dives into the tension of what we know about the past and, in uncertain times, the need to trust that God is yet at work in our lives.  The work you do, you do with grace.  You gently move forward with resolve. 

There are so many things I want to say as a Pastor following the adoption vote on Sunday; the culmination of a year’s long process of prayer and discernment.  If told in truth it is a process that has been in the works for many years.  We do not stand alone in these “wrestling(s)” for I know there are many United Methodist and other protestant churches who wonder where God is leading them over the next five years.  There are so many feelings that swirl around the decision by our congregational body on Sunday. 

As proud as I am of our congregation, I hold it in tension with another feeling.  The feeling of loss; grief.  Every change or transition means saying goodbye to what was for what is to become.  I have to be careful in my language!  We do not say goodbye to the past or eliminate from our memory the shared experiences that make us who we are as a church.  No, these we grip onto.  But change recognizes that things will be different moving forward.  Whenever something is changed something is lost—change by its very nature means moving into something different and leaving behind something that was.  Loss is part of life and it isn’t easy. 

When I think of the future of the church I mourn with those who struggle to find what is next for them.  I mourn with those who have put their heart and soul into our church.  I stand beside those who have taken time and energy to build up the ministries at Windsor UMC.  I want you to know you are not alone—there are those that stand beside you.  Change is hard.  We can fully recognize the need for something different but at the same time not be ready for it yet.  We can mourn the loss while still recognizing that change and transition are part of living.  Life does not stand still—it  moves, it shakes and it grows.    

Let’s be honest—none of us likes change.  There might be those adventurers or thrill seekers that love the idea of something new, fresh, and out of the norm (whatever the norm might be).  But, for most of us we need a time of transition—a time of acceptance.  A time to wrestle with our inwardness.  Maybe you have seen a time of transition beyond the walls of the church?  Maybe you have experienced a loss or known grief in these times?  No matter how you feel in these days, know that our church is not wiped away but standing right next to you as you wrestle with the beautiful divine grace of God to move us into something renewed.   

So, what do you do in those seasons when acceptance is hard or when the loss seems bigger than you can handle? 

Our church has gone through a season of transition—heck we are in a season of transition—that reflects many of life’s journeys.  The things we have clung to for so long seem to be shifting beneath our feet.  Church, community, places of sanctuary.  We are in a time of transition that might ask us to reflect on our identity, our purpose, or where we belong.  It is important to hold space for our emotions right now.  To not steer away from or to hide the emotions that rise up in our hearts.  We need to take more time to reflect where God is in the midst of our loss, grief, or frustration.  Please know I pray for you in this process.  I truly care about you and your heart—especially in how it is connected to our church body and God’s presence. 

In seasons of transition, when the familiar fades and the future feels uncertain, we often find ourselves disoriented. Loss—whether of a loved one, a vocation, health, or a sense of identity—can feel like the ground has shifted beneath our feet. We can feel like we are free-floating in the space between what was and what is to become.  And yet, even in the valley of grief, God walks with us.

Over the past few months, I have been going through a transformation. My heart has had times of reflection, worry, and even times of renewed hope.  I have seen our congregation wrestle with God’s voice—I have seen our congregation join in prayer.  I have heard stories of when congregants first joined our church, the hopes they held so closely as they reflect on the many years of ministry at Windsor UMC.  I’ve also been reading insights from psychologists and theologians who remind us that grief is not just emotional—it’s neurological, spiritual, and deeply personal. 

I have also been reflecting on stories of resilience—like Maya Shankar who at the age of eight was becoming a renowned violinist attending Juilliard when after attempting a particularly difficult violin technique over stretched a tendon in her hand and lost the ability to play at a professional level.  Later Maya Shankar obtained a Ph.D. in Cognitive Psychology from Oxford University.  She talks about the moment when the trajectory of her life changed, that everything she had known was lost and she had to live into the space between what she knew and the uncertainty of the unknown.  

She says there are three hard questions we need to ask when we are in times of change:

1. How might this change … change what you are capable of?

2. How might this change … change what you value?

3. How might this change … change how you define yourself?

   
   

She raises these questions to reflect on cognitive behavior as a crucial part of defining our perspective and orientation to moments of change or transition.  If all we can see is the loss then we never move to the gain. We are not to discount the pain of loss, but reflecting on what is renewed in the space between can help us remember who we are, what we are about, and where God might be leading us into the future.

Grief activates the brain’s stress response, releasing cortisol and disrupting memory, and emotional regulation. It’s no wonder we feel foggy, exhausted, or even physically ill in times of loss. But grief also reshapes our identity. As Dr. Mary Lamia in her article “How Loss Changes Us” writes, when someone or something central to our story is gone, we feel “lost from loss.” Our autobiographical memory—the story we tell ourselves about who we are—needs to be rewritten.  It can feel hard to find our way when we feel the ground shift to something unfamiliar.  We start to write a new path.

There is also the story of Dr. Raymond Mis, a physician who lost his sight and hearing, yet found new purpose through faith, technology, and community. Despite the challenges of loss in sight and hearing, he continued working, adapted to his limitations, and eventually returned to performing medical procedures using assistive technology.  Dr. Mis outlines five principles that helped him navigate change:

• Acceptance – Embracing limitations and focusing on what can be controlled.

• Accountability – Facing fears and making amends when necessary.

• Responsibility – To community, family, and self.

• Passion – Loving what you do to overcome obstacles.

• Purpose – Seeking inner peace through care of mind, body, and spirit.

Grief is a deeply personal and multifaceted response to loss.  It can be a loss of someone we love or the loss of something we placed hope in.  Grief is formed when we lose something that we have formed a strong emotional bond to.  In this sense it is not just sadness—encompasses a wide range of emotions: Sorrow and longing, Anger or frustration, Confusion or disbelief, Guilt or regret, or even Numbness and emptiness.

Grief often unfolds in stages or waves. 

This is vitally important to remember, grief unfolds in stages or waves.  Classic models Kübler-Ross’s five stages (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance) can help describe common experiences of grief I find these lacking because grief doesn’t follow a linear path. It is often cyclical, unpredictable, and unique to each of us.  I think this is particularly important when thinking about loss in the midst of grief.  A linear path endorses a movement from a moment of grief to a moment of no grief.  I worry that we have a tendency of talking about grief as if it is something to be overcome or subdued. 

Grief is a remembrance of what was, a time when we knew a connection to something or someone.  To overcome or subdue grief in a linear way could be perceived as letting go of that connection.  We are not called to forget the connections, but to honor them as we hold space for them in the tension of the space between what was and what is to become.  Spiritually grief can be seen as a sacred space—a place where God meets us in our vulnerability. Scripture often speaks to grief with compassion and hope:

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18) or “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” (Matthew 5:4)

Theologians Elaine Heath and Charles Kiser remind us that healing also comes through relationship. The church must become a community of “wounded healers,” offering safe spaces for spiritual recovery. The work of the church is to walk with others through the shadows of life, not rushing them into the light.  This means we sit with the loss, recognize it and leave space for God’s nurturing in the midst of pain.  It is NOT a stand up and move on mentality—it leaves room for the loss while still looking to the hope of renewal. 

Loss can be an important time of reclaiming (or redefining) our identity, purpose, and call as people of faith.  Sit in the “Space Between” with me.  Take time to honor the past, the shared experiences that have made us the community of faith we are—the blessedness of our church body.  Let the divine wash over you as you reflect on who God continues to call you to be, and find a purpose that aligns with God’s glory.  

Grief and change will visit all of us. But they do not have the final word. In Christ, we are invited to live not with certainty, but with hope—a hope that is rooted in love, sustained by grace, and carried forward in community.  Don’t rush through or subdue the loss.  Instead recognize it and also find where hope might redefine our perspective of the space between.

So if the ground beneath you is shifting, know this: you are not alone. God is with you. We are with you. And together, we will walk toward a seriously good tomorrow.

-          Pastor Jon Bailey