by Emily Ralph Servant, Leadership Minister
He was one of my congregation’s “saints,” someone who had been attracted to the church decades ago because he heard that God was doing something there and he wanted to be a part of it.

I asked him about the old days and his eyes lit up as he told me about the boys’ and girls’ clubs, Summer Bible School, and a thriving Sunday School.
Those were the glory days of mission.
I’ve been thinking about this saint often during this past week as I talked with a number of pastors about mission in their context. It’s so easy for us to get caught up in remembering times past when our congregations had flourishing programs, our institutions were growing by leaps and bounds, and we were sending missionaries to the “ends of the earth.”
By comparison, many of our congregations now feel like Moses, hiding his face behind a veil so that the people of Israel couldn’t see that the glory of his encounter with God was fading (2 Corinthians 3:13). We feel discouraged, tired, and worried. We wish that we could think up the next great initiative that will draw hundreds—or at least dozens—of people through our church doors so that our faces will once again shine with God’s glory as our congregations come to life again.
Instead, when we remember the glory days, we feel like we’re dying. We feel like we have nothing to offer as our numbers are dwindling and our energy is waning.
Perhaps our memories of past mission have taken on a bit of a golden hue, however. Our stories have been shaped over the years of telling to remember the highlights instead of the everyday acts of love and friendship that drew others to a relationship with God and to participate in our communities.
When I asked people who had grown up in my congregation’s neighborhood about those same years of mission, their eyes lit up when they told me how this gentle man had walked the streets on Saturday mornings, sharing coffee and donuts with them in their homes. They remembered how he would sit with the teenagers as they smoked and drank on the church steps.
They didn’t just remember the programs; they remembered the people.

As the glory fades away, we are left only with ourselves and what a gift that is! It’s vulnerable to put ourselves out there and risk rejection, embarrassment, or hurt. It’s a lot messier and a whole lot more confusing. Yet you don’t have to form a committee to share a meal (or coffee and donuts!) and you don’t have to be young and energetic to shoot the breeze for a couple hours on a Saturday morning.
It can be scary to stop hiding behind the veil, to show who we really are. But the Spirit of the Lord is there, and where the Spirit is, there is freedom (2 Corinthians 3:17). Freedom to stop trying so hard and just be ourselves. Freedom to risk building relationships with no strings attached. Freedom to trust that there may be some glory left after all.






one another. There was much singing together and the women enjoyed a delicious lunch including a wonderful cake gifted to them from MCUSA out-going Executive Director, Ervin Stutzman, from his retirement party the night before. It was bi-lingual day, with everything presented in English and Spanish, and was a deeply moving day, culminating in the women giving testimony as to where God had unfolded their darkness into light.

each week they order six to ten items from the selection of veggies and fruits we have to offer at that time. For our paying members, this is a chance to get local, organically grown vegetables through the season at a good price, and it gives them the confidence that comes from knowing where and how their food is grown. In addition to paying members, we also offer work shares and subsidized shares to folks in the community. Our work shares go to folks who are willing to put in a weekly work shift in exchange for their box of fresh veggies from the farm. Our subsidized shares go to families with children who may not have the funds for a share but could really use some nutritious food.
just want to lend a hand! Many of these folks say that they find their time on the farm healing and therapeutic, which helps to assure me that we are maintaining a healthy, positive place. We also share our work on the farm with the interns who commit themselves for a season (or sometimes more) to learn sustainable farming. A number of these folks have gone on to start farms of their own, and we hope all of them will continue our mission of growing healthy relationships with the land in one way or another. In addition, we look forward to connecting with a new community this summer as we begin bringing our produce to the 
Our leadership ministers met the end of March, during what we hope will be the last heavy snowstorm, at 



















