Early Sunday morning I had one of those weird dreams. I was in a town I didn’t recognise, but I knew everyone’s names and they seemed to have been waiting for me to arrive. In one house there was a family who all looked spookily similar. They were all smiley but there was definitely tension in the air. We went off to a planning meeting at church, where at one point I stood on a chair to dispense advice to approving nods and murmurs of assent. Then it all started to go super weird…
Suddenly I knew that this one family were all the product of incest – the dad was actually the brother kinda stuff. I should have known this earlier! The next scene was outside. I had a massive block of butter on the road in front of me. I was working hard buttering the road – all by myself – to stop the most violent member of the family getting back into the house.
When I woke up, I rolled over and regaled my long-suffering husband with all the details. To my surprise he didn’t remind me of the pizza I’d eaten late the night before, or suggest that we’d put the winter blanket on the bed a few weeks too early. Instead, it turns out that my crazy dream fits the stage our church plant is currently up to.
We are about to scale-up through the ‘70 regulars’ mark. We’re moving from me knowing everyone and being the doorway to everyone getting involved, to developing a volunteer team structure where I’m not so central. It’s leading to conversations like the one I had at Hub last Wednesday night:
“Hi. My name’s Cathy, you’ve been part of Scots for a while, but I don’t think we’ve met yet.”
I’m relieved but concerned all at the same time – and that explains the two halves of my dream. I’m relieved that I don’t need to know everyone. That as a 70+ body of Christ, we will all play our part in connecting people with church, caring for them, communicating the gospel and helping them to commit to following Jesus. It won’t be the Cathy show anymore. In short, that things are going well – woo! But on the other hand, I’m going to have to trust that people aren’t going to fall through the cracks, and I’m worried that people might think I’m not loving because I don’t know everyone.
So that’s the job for this week. Pray, and keep doing my part, but don’t panic. Trust that our plant is just as secure now with God, as it was when I was more hands on – and maybe put the big blanket away until it’s colder?
