A new chapter for our church and for our webpage (and for this blog) begins. I’m nervous. Once or twice I have been mistakenly ID’d as a card-carrying Luddite, and honestly, if they actually issued cards, there are times when I would have applied. This technology thing is not easy for me.
Two-and-a-half years ago, I declared independence from social media. From my Build Your Own Personal Brand type of self-marketing, to my sins of omission (leaving out the normal but adding what I thought was impressive stuff: “Fakebook”), to being overwhelmed by too many constituencies, to the way polarizing politics threatened some valued long-standing relationships — enough was enough! (If I had added: “…and to posts by my kid that were downright embarrassing” would that have been too personal?).
This carried over into my approach to our church’s website.
To be fair, I had no interest in ANY church’s website. Church websites were best if they simply told the location, announced worship times, and offered a minimal amount of what to expect. Maybe a recording of a sermon. And a couple snapshots of the building or of the congregation eating pot-luck. Just enough for the prospective visitor to get a handle on “who” the church is, and then decide whether or not to dip a toe into the water at an actual worship service.
Then, almost overnight, thanks to Coronavirus, the church website changed from being a necessary evil to being an absolute necessity.
We cancelled services the past two weeks out of love for all people and a desire to keep our own congregants healthy. For the next four weeks (and maybe more) that decision has been made for us. We will follow the rules, hunker down, pull in, restrict personal interactions, and practice social distancing, knowing that our collective efforts will make a difference in the lives of friends and neighbors.
So here’s a new way to communicate, and I intend to be here often — maybe even after the coast is clear and the stay-home orders are lifted and we are back to worshiping together. May God Bless You, Congregation! I miss seeing you.
And in the yelled words of my neighbor from across the street –
And my mailman –
And the young Home Depot employee who helped load my curbside pick-up –
And the President –
And the woman six feet behind me at the supermarket (the one wearing the mask) –
And the check-out girl—