Good morning, friends. Take a breath with me, maybe. Take one of those big exhales that I’m suggesting we all give ourselves. I’ve come into more clarity these last couple of days about my life circumstances, the life in which I seek to be at worship. My life, as I had intended it, has been quite derailed for the last month or two. I’ve spoken about this: my oldest son is not in school, and I had big plans for how I would use my time this fall. I’d spent a lot of time thinking about my week and my rhythms of life, trying to sketch out a rhythm of experiences, conversations, prayer, and devotion that was authentic to me and nurturing to my family. And nurturing to this movement, this mission I have been called to bring into being: the Substack, the Helen Keller Spiritual Life Collaborative, the work it seems God has given me to do. Pretty much all of that has been derailed. All the fixed intentions I had for Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and the weekend. I did finally start my Monday morning devotional time at 7:30 in October, and it feels like a time I can keep. There’s not much that can derail me before 7:30 on a Monday. But many of the other intentions have had to be put on hold, for reasons I won’t get into. What I want to speak about is something that has been rising in my awareness these last couple of days. While my elaborately detailed schedules have fallen away, my commitment to this work, to this way of living, to this emerging community is actually just fine. It has been going along and being made manifest, even as some of those specific intentions and spaces haven’t come into being. It’s gotten me thinking about church life, if you’ve been involved in it, in the typical sense: Sunday morning worship, maybe a Wednesday night young adult group, office hours. I’m realizing how deeply I’ve been formed in a vision of church as a building, a place, a community that meets at regular times. Success looks like good meetings, people showing up, good communication. The whole identity of the church is a place where people come together at particular times in particular spaces. That’s beautiful, and I’m not criticizing that model. (I know that when I speak about this, defensiveness sometimes comes up.) But I see how much that model lives in me. As I develop this new ministry, it feels important to communicate when we’re meeting and to offer specific times when specific groups can come together. I do want that, don’t get me wrong. And yet, right now, here I am speaking this message, and the people who will hear it aren’t in this room. You’ll hear it hours from now, sitting in your own space, at a time and by a means I don’t know. What we’re experiencing together through this technology is very different from anything imagined when the church organizations many of us were formed in came into being. There are drawbacks. I’d probably prefer it if you were here in this room, though that isn’t conducive to my life right now. I have a 12-year-old who needs support today, and I’m managing a lot. If I had to host a gathering in my space, or travel somewhere, I wouldn’t be able to share what I’m learning right now. So there is a loss of in-the-room, physical connection. But there is also a gain: I can describe what’s happening in my life and connect with people it might resonate with, like a stream moving out in many directions, rather than requiring everyone to sit in a circle in a room. Think about history. Community began with no words, just beings together. Then we developed language, which let us tell each other about things we hadn’t seen in real time: stories, learning, brought back to the group. Then, only a few hundred years ago, the printing press and books let us learn from people across great distances, people we would never sit in a room with. Now, in 2026, we have all of these at once: communities that gather in one place, books that travel everywhere, videos, the internet, and more. Each of these has drawbacks, and we’re seeing many of them now. With the rise of AI, the streams have become so multitudinous that it’s sometimes hard to discern where the truth lies. But there are also incredibly effective and creative possibilities in this shift. It’s interesting to watch creators online who share messages and then meet in real time. In many ways, that’s the vision I feel called to. I’m putting out a call for a way of being, Be Love, Be Honest, Be Useful, a way of wrestling with the vision of the new church and imagining how it’s coming into being. I’m connecting with people around the globe who hold similar questions, and we’re forming a network that doesn’t depend on everyone meeting in one place, or even in a Zoom room at the same time each week. It doesn’t depend on regular offerings. It depends on a commitment to a worthy purpose. That’s Helen Keller’s language. She spoke of commitment to a worthy purpose as the source of happiness in life. Even though my life has been derailed these last two months, and there are regular things I intended to do and haven’t been able to, my commitment to that worthy purpose has not been derailed in any way. If anything, I’m realizing it’s what matters most to me. The way we meet, the how of it, is not the essential thing. Those are means, ways of bringing the worthy purpose into being, and there are many ways I probably don’t know yet. Right now, the way that’s bringing up the most energy and enthusiasm is a traveling exhibit about Helen Keller’s life. Amazing people have stepped in to help, resources are flowing, and I can see how this could bring people together in different parts of the globe for in-person experiences, retreats, talks, and celebrations. It’s going to be great. It already feels great. Connections are being built in myriad ways, and right now, while you’re listening to this, connections are being created and opportunities are being opened. My spiritual life, my grounding in this calling, is becoming much less about knowing week to week exactly what will happen, which spaces I’ll show up in, and who will be there. It’s much more about carrying this worthy purpose with me all the time. More than making sure I have the devotional service or the worship service or the meeting, it’s the pause I make every few breaths to feel into this calling. It feels quite clear to me that it comes from my deepest core self, the part of me that touches up against the Divine life, and that this part of me is coordinating with other people’s deepest selves. Something is happening on the spiritual level that’s coordinating all of this, and I’m part of it. I need to do my part. But that coordination isn’t contingent on my figuring out how to show up every day in exactly the right way, scheduling the right activities, advertising the right way, or finding the right platform, whatever my ego declares the necessary step I’m somehow failing at. We are in uncharted waters, friends, in a new time with possibilities we don’t yet know. I feel grateful to be grounded in a vision of life that is true to who I am, and in a calling that is, frankly, pretty exciting. It’s fun to imagine more and more opportunities opening up where I can be myself, be love, be honest, be useful, and connect with others doing the same: through virtual meetups, conversations, podcasts, retreats, and in-person gatherings, including preaching in churches and showing up in spaces that do it differently. I think it’s okay that my plans got derailed. I don’t take it as a sign of failure. It’s what life does, especially when we’re in relationship with other people. My ability to be fluid and flexible amid that derailment, while staying firmly committed to the path I’m on, feels essential. So thank you for listening, and for being part of this new frontier of community and connection. I wonder what worthy purposes you’re committed to: in your work, your relationships, the wisdom you carry. I wonder how you’re holding them. And if you’re feeling derailed by your family, your friends, your community, or the world, maybe that’s an opportunity to get clearer on your worthy purpose, to see that it isn’t contingent on the circumstances of the moment. Those circumstances can’t truly derail us, because this purpose runs deeper than they do. It comes from a spiritual level unencumbered by the material, and it can use the material world the way water makes its way through rock. It will find a way. I hope you can trust that, as I’m learning to trust it for myself. Blessings, friends. This is a public episode. 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