Present Over Perfect

Book of Common Prayer. I like feeling connected to
something durable and beautiful, something that has
endured centuries. And it’s been so healing for me to have a
spiritual place that invites me into depth, into quiet, into
silence.
The tradition I’ve grown up in gave me such a respect
for learning, for service, for helping people and making the
world better. I wouldn’t trade those things, and I’m so proud
to be a part of a church that’s engaged in the world, that’s
action-oriented and smart. And it has been so valuable to
add to those great things a regular practice of silence,
prayer, and Sabbath. Again, filling that pie is the work of
being an adult Christian—the privilege, really. Many of us
rail against what we didn’t get. Or we rail against what’s
being offered here or there, that what they’re doing isn’t
perfect, and what they’re doing over there isn’t either.
But as a pastor’s daughter who has spent most of her life
in churches, this is what I know: no church is perfect, and
the best you can hope for is that each church experience
you gather up throughout your life fills that pie a little bit.
And in the same way that, for example, most artists aren’t
super-administrative, and most driving leaders aren’t
profoundly tender and most engineers aren’t big on drama,
that’s how churches are: limited, great at a couple things,
not so great at the rest. That’s how I am. That’s how our
church is. That’s how the Practice is.
And the way that God has used that Sunday night
gathering is one of the things I’m most grateful for in recent