You heard it early in the pandemic, when wise people urged us to talk about “physical distancing” rather “social distancing.” Language matters. It shapes how we think, feel, and act. In the case of being apart from one another, contrasting physical to social isolation emphasized that we still could and should remain connected, even as we stayed at home to keep ourselves and one another safe.

We’re at a point in the Covid crisis when it’s again important to pay close attention to the words we use.

Instead of “re-opening,” say “re-gathering in person.” Many of you have already made this shift. While the church’s physical plant might have been closed, the Church never was. To claim such would be to deny the hard work of ministers and lay leaders and the presence of Christ in all times and places.

Instead of “getting back,” say “moving forward.” The former suggests we will spring back to pre-pandemic practices as if Covid was a nightmare we can shake off rather than a reality-altering event on a global scale. We will waste the pain of the past year if we don’t learn from it and make changes based on what we glean.

Instead of “normal,” say “a new way of being.” Normal conjures up nostalgia for a time that never will be - shouldn’t be - again. Normal has left out too many people. Normal has been too stuck in it ways. Normal has been too enamored of itself to ponder changes needed in order to remain faithful.

Instead of “how soon can we lose the precautions?” ask “how can we continue to show care through caution?” Understandably, people are ready to shed masks and hug their church friends. But the numbers show that we are not past the danger, and we’ll be right back in the thick of it if we aren’t careful. It is an act of discipleship to continue to protect one another.

Instead of “but I’m vaccinated” ask “who isn’t yet vaccinated?” While in some areas vaccine supply now surpasses demand, that is not the case everywhere. There are people with health concerns who aren’t yet willing or able to get their shots, and while we might be on the brink of teen vaccination, the timeline for younger children remains uncertain. It’s important to keep asking who remains at risk and plan around those folks.

How might you help your church people make these shifts in language so that they can make accompanying changes in expectations and focus? And what other language replacements would you recommend?

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash.

A couple of months ago, I believed my turn at vaccination against Covid-19 was way in the distance. But I suddenly found myself with an appointment in late February, and now here I am, fully inoculated. I cannot overstate how grateful I am to have had my turn. (Please take yours when it comes up!)

I’m not the only one with this sense of whiplash. The vaccine rollout was so slow, so discombobulated, at first that normal-ish still seemed out of reach for many of us. But then production ramped up and more vaccination sites opened. All people ages 16 and up in my state are now eligible to receive their doses, and President Biden stated that all adults could have had shots in arms by July 4.

This is fantastic news. It means that the timeline for fully returning in in-person church activities has shortened greatly. And that means that the conversations pastors were planning to have about what post-pandemic church looks like need to start happening now.

Most clergy knew pre-Covid that the church was headed toward major changes - or at least needed to be. Congregations are shrinking. In many cases it’s because members have dug in their heels, building fortresses around ministries that feel familiar instead of responding to the gifts and needs of younger demographics and surrounding communities. When the pandemic struck, so much had to change for safety reasons. And while we all have an understandable desire to reclaim our lives and our routines, we must not pass up this opportunity to think about what could be faithfully different. We might not ever get another moment like this - to reflect on God’s dream instead of simply springing back to what was - while our churches still have critical mass and decent budgets and a chance to flourish.

I believe that the world needs the church. At their best, congregations connect us to each other and to God, affirm the goodness of each person made in God’s image, promote thriving by accompanying people through life’s peaks and valleys and giving them tools to make meaning out of those experiences, offer tangible help to those inside and outside its walls, and push for equity based on the teachings and example of Jesus. Let’s imagine together what this can look like at this time, in our evolving contexts. Here are some questions to reflect on the learnings of the past year and prompt forward-thinking discussion:

• What has this church done well for a long time?

• What did we learn was possible this year that we didn't know before?

• How have these learnings excited us? Revealed God at work among us and through us? Built on whom we know ourselves to be (or whom we aspire to be) as a congregation?

• What have we learned this year about what we want to stop doing?

• What have we missed doing this year that we want to pick back up?

• What do we want our role in this community to be?

• What gaps do we need to fill in to make this happen?

• What do we want to try and then reflect further on based on all of the above?

• How might these choices help us live more fully into our values as a congregation?

As we move into the season of Easter (in which Jesus invites us to consider what resurrection means for us) and Pentecost (in which we celebrate the openness of Jesus’ followers to new people and ways), there is no better time liturgically and public health-wise to consider what God is nudging us toward. If we wait too long to have these conversations, our church members might settle so deeply back into the worn places in their seats that we’ll have to wait for another crisis to drive us to change - or to close our doors permanently.

Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash.

I was seven years old when Daniel LaRusso landed the crane kick on Johnny Lawrence that felled martial arts powerhouse (and bully factory) Cobra Kai in the All Valley Tournament. The Karate Kid was the ultimate underdog story. Scrawny new kid in town, tormented by the Cobra Kai clique and their sadistic sensei, gets taken underwing by a wise karate master and wins his way to an unlikely championship despite injury.

Though there were later movies in the franchise, none matched the entertainment value or emotional impact of the first iteration. I was thus amused when YouTube dipped a toe into original programming with the development of Cobra Kai, a kind of “where are they now?” tv series based on the characters. Several weeks ago the first two seasons moved over to Netflix, and I was no longer amused. I was 100% sucked in. It hit all the right notes for fans of the original movie. Interestingly, though, it did so in completely different ways than the film.

The church has been in the pangs of change for a while, now accelerated by Covid-19 and the creativity the virus has demanded. I think Cobra Kai speaks to the ways in which the church can be in the process of taking tradition into account while becoming something new.

Strike a balance between nostalgia and innovation. The backstory of Cobra Kai is familiar, as are much of the soundtrack and many of the pop culture references. But instead of going heavy on the drama, Cobra Kai leans into the humor of two adult men reliving their teen rivalry. For the church to become something new, it will have to decide what essentials it wants to carry forward and what note it wants to strike, then be willing to experiment with everything else.

Look for ways to reach multiple generations. One of the reasons Cobra Kai works is because it’s a multi-generational story. The Daniel-Johnny storyline speaks to Gen Xers, while the budding conflict among their children and students is relatable for younger audiences. Churches can no longer cater primarily to a single generation just because they pay the bills.

Resist the temptation to make anyone one-dimensional. In The Karate Kid, the director clearly wanted audiences to root for Daniel. But in Cobra Kai, we hear Johnny’s interpretation of the conflict and see him interact compassionately (in his own way) with his proteges. We see how Daniel’s obsession with Cobra Kai negatively affects his marriage and his professional life. Neither character is easily categorized. In church we are too eager to pigeonhole people inside and outside the walls and limit the range of perspectives we’re willing to consider. That’s not just a turnoff for many (particularly younger) people, it’s also a denial of the grace that is key to our faith.

Don’t ignore the outside world. Johnny is a technophobe, but he (and the showrunners, who depend on streaming to reach audiences) gradually understands the need for smartphones and social media. Churches, put a hashbrown on your services and announcements and send them to the internet!

Don’t take yourself too seriously. I imagine the showrunners and actors wondered what reaction a comedic series based on a classic drama would garner. It could have backfired, but they made the gamble. Church leaders, spiritual growth is serious business. That doesn’t mean church has to be serious all the time. Take risks, and create space for joy in the process. People will notice and want to join you.

Make room for people’s growth. In the first episode of Cobra Kai, Johnny is a borderline alcoholic whose temper costs him his job. He spends his evenings watching Iron Eagle in a sparsely-furnished apartment with a six-pack of Coors Banquet. He cares for no one beyond himself, except for his son, whom he has pushed away with this absence. We see Johnny grow, though, as he builds up a dojo full of picked-on kids that he at first mocks but becomes protective of. The show doesn’t work without this arc. The church of tomorrow must support newcomers and long-timers in their development as disciples. Otherwise, what are we here for?

Don’t worry about what the other guy is doing. Daniel, Johnny, and their students’ constant tracking of what the opponent is doing and trying to one-up is what leads to the trainwreck at the end of season two. This despite the fact that the two dojos have very different approaches to martial arts and that there’s room in a big city for both. Church, you do you, not the congregation down the street with a totally different DNA.

Oh, and if you need a bit of self-comfort after this cruel summer, look for Cobra Kai on Netflix.

Photo by Charlein Gracia on Unsplash.