Gratitude and Awe

How Radical Hospitality Makes Space for Healing, Listening, and New Possibilities

This past Sunday I had one of those rare moments in a pastor’s life when I got to take in the magic of the Spirit’s presence even as I was facilitating that for others. There were several moments when I was caught up in the Spirit as I listened to the prayers, scripture being read, dreams being shared, and the final hymn being sung. It was a rich and beautiful ending to our Dreaming God’s Dream stewardship series. (Click here to watch.)

Yes, it’s true: when we pastors lead worship, we rarely have the space to be in worship. We are the director, lead performer, and stage manager, making sure you have as “frictionless” an experience as possible. We ask: Is the invitation clear? Are the transitions easy? Is there space for breath and reflection? Do the words, tone, music, and tempo support the intended message? Does this feel authentic to the community?

Each week is its own small theatre production - some pieces familiar, many brand-new - each requiring attention and care.

Some weeks it is easy.

Some weeks it is hard.

And sometimes, it is sublime.

I share this because what happened Sunday was not accidental. It is the fruit of the spiritual culture we are building together.

Over the four years I’ve shared ministry with you, I have experienced more of these Spirit-soaked moments than in any other congregation I have served. There is a deep reciprocity with the Spirit and with one another that makes them possible. It is built on trust, truth-telling, and the continued willingness to lean into places of discomfort with care.

It is held together with the threads of courage that allow us to say:

“Ouch, that hurt.”

“I’m angry about that.”

“I need you to hear me.”

“How can we fix this?”

"I love you."

We don’t always get the response we hoped for, but time and again I have seen the healing that comes from radical hospitality: transparency without punishment, vulnerability without fear, disagreement without rupture, and a steady willingness to stay in relationship.

And as I held all of that on Sunday, I found myself thinking about the world beyond our sanctuary walls; the anxious and polarized landscape of our nation, the stories we tell about ourselves, and the ones we avoid. We live in a time when fear is profitable, denial is familiar, and comforting myths often replace the full truth of our history.

Yet precisely in this moment, communities like ours have a sacred responsibility.

The culture we practice here - this courage to listen, this truth-telling, this tenderness of heart - is not meant to stay inside the sanctuary. It is a witness, a counter-testimony to the narratives that insist we must either choose denial or drown in shame. It is a reminder that gratitude without honesty is hollow, and faith without memory becomes dangerous.

As we approach Thanksgiving, a holiday wrapped in both love and myth, we have the opportunity to practice a deeper honesty. We can be grateful without being naïve. We can celebrate blessing without erasing the cost. The truth is this: the very people who founded this congregation - faithful, hopeful, earnest people - were also settlers who benefited from the genocide and displacement of the Kalapuyan and other Indigenous peoples of this valley.

Naming this does not diminish our ancestors; it honors the full story. It allows us to root our gratitude in truth and our commitments in justice.

On Sunday, Tommy Van Cleave from Willamette University offered us a profound reminder of what this kind of faithfulness requires in our world today:

“Honor the wounds people bring—even the ones you cannot see. Welcome doesn’t mean ‘come here and fit in this box.’ It means helping people find the place that is truly safe for them. If you want to build real bridges, start by listening.”— Tommy Van Cleave

This is the work before us, not only inside our sanctuary but out in the wider community. To listen. To tell the truth. To acknowledge the wounds our nation carries and the wounds our history has caused. To practice a hospitality spacious enough for healing and brave enough to change us.

It was good to hear from Tommy that he knows a lot of healing is already underway here. And I know there is more to come.

As we move into this season of anticipation and awe, may we continue to cultivate a community where courage is shared, truth is spoken, and every act of hospitality becomes a small seed of the world God is dreaming into being.

With deep gratitude for who you are,

Pastor Robin