There are so many clichéd things written about change, I hesitate to add to the heap. However. One of the translations for “God’s word”—“logos”—is “that which is happening.” And these days, that which is happening at Marble is change, a lot of it.

A number of beloved staff members are taking a voluntary separation package to explore other options in their lives. It’s a lot of people at once, and these absences will be felt by all who know and treasure these folks. For those of you in the Marble community, you know about this already. For those of you in the human community at large, you also know about the sudden shifts, the leave-takings we are all subject to, even the happy ones, and especially the sudden ones, happy or tragic.

We think we know how to embrace change, and then it happens. Yes, it’s the way of the world, the nature of things, etc. The Bible is full of people essentially being pilgrims, always pitching tents and then moving on, in more ways than one.

As I am reminded again this fall of the cyclical nature of things, I think of how we are called to be both acutely present to situations and people and yet at the same time, to be ready to let them go. This is no small or easy tension to hold. And yet… the alternative is to hold back, to never get attached, to never fully plunge into a relationship or a situation, because it might end sooner than you would like.

Mary Oliver captured this mandate perfectly in the last lines of her poem “In Blackwater Woods”:

To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

I want to add one thing to her hard-won wisdom: While I try to do the full commitment she urges, and am not always successful, I also derive solace and focus from discerning what does not change for me; my “homeground” if you will. What C.S. Lewis eloquently called “the secret signature of each soul… the incommunicable and unappeasable want… that something we were born desiring…” In other words, the thread that runs through our work, our relationships, our very mysterious selves.
God calls us to this bedrock homeground and asks us to surf all that is temporary like the glorious wave that it is. It’s a tricky, demanding, often exhilarating dance.

And speaking of dancing, I invite you to one particular final dance at Marble this Sunday at 1:30. Rev. David Lewicki, one of the departing staff at Marble, will be dialoguing with Dr. Christopher Morse of Union Theological Seminary on what is not helpful to believe about God. The topic could not be more central; the speakers could not be more insightful and light on their feet. Come—either in person or on live stream. Feast. Celebrate the continuing inquiry we are all on.

The Way It Is

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.

~ William Stafford ~