Roots of Resilience

Earlier this month, 20 of us traveled to Portland to visit Leaven Community and Salt and Light Lutheran Church. These ministries grew out of Redeemer Lutheran’s resurrecting process almost 15 years ago, and now they are reimagining their buildings as resilience hubs—places that serve neighbors in daily life and in times of disruption. Walking through their space, we found ourselves asking: What might this look like in Salem? What would it mean for our congregation to become a resilience hub?

We are still early in this journey. Our congregation voted back in June to move in this direction, and we are just now forming a Shepherding Team to guide the work. We don’t yet have blueprints or budgets to unveil. What we do have is curiosity and a commitment: to listen, to learn, and to build relationships that will shape this vision. Choosing to become a resilience hub is not a project to finish but a way of living differently as a church in the heart of downtown Salem.

What a Resilience Hub Is—and Isn’t

In the past, resilience hubs were often understood as emergency preparedness centers—stocked with supplies, equipped with backup power, and ready to open in a crisis. Their role was mostly reactive, helping communities get through storms, blackouts, or disasters.

That is part of the story, but not the whole. A resilience hub is more than a building with backup power. It is a trusted community space that strengthens daily life and prepares for disruption. It is built on justice, equity, relationships, and spiritual resilience. It is where neighbors gather, build networks of care, and find resources not only for emergencies but also for everyday needs. It is where challenges like housing insecurity, public health, and climate disruption are met with practical supports - like internet access, food preservation skills, or a warm space during an ice storm - alongside spiritual practices that sustain hope when the grid, or life itself, feels uncertain.

By contrast, a community center is usually designed for programs—recreation, education, social events, cultural activities. These are important, but they don’t necessarily prepare people for crisis or address inequities head-on. A resilience hub builds on those same kinds of community connections but layers in equity, preparedness, and spiritual grounding so that when disruption comes, neighbors know where to turn and who will stand with them.

Justice and Spiritual Resilience at the Center

And resilience is not just about “bouncing back.” To be true resilience it must ask: Who is most at risk when disaster strikes? Whose needs are overlooked in recovery? And how can we respond in ways that do more than restore the old inequities?

I believe our answer is clear: resilience is inseparable from justice. It means placing climate justice, housing and homelessness, LGBTQIA inclusion, and food security at the heart of our planning. And because resilience is also spiritual, it means grounding our work in prayer, song, study, and worship, all of which reminds us that God’s vision of this world is where everyone can flourish.

Exploring Together

And while it may feel like it, the resilience hub we imagine is not about balancing the books—it is about building relationships. That begins with listening first, sharing power, and shaping the hub with those who already gather here and those nearby who face greater risks. It means staying curious about how collaboration might grow with Northwest Human Services, Center for Hope and Safety, the veterans housing project, Church at the Park, and other nearby organizations, as well as with state agencies and denominational partners that can bring resources and expertise.

We can also ask what it might mean to tend our block - its energy, water, shade, and shelter - so creation itself can help sustain people in times of smoke, heat, cold, or power outage. And we can also wonder how practices of co-creation - like design labs and charrettes - might help us learn from our neighbors, ensuring that the hub reflects not only our hopes but the experiences and needs of the wider community.

Through it all, I hold fast to the conviction that while donations, rentals, grants, and fees may support our vision, the deeper measure of success will be in cultivating belonging, care, justice, and the spiritual strength that binds it all together.

Building on Strengths, Dreaming Toward More

The good news is that we actually begin from abundance. We already host ministries and groups that matter deeply to this city. From here, we can grow by exploring new collaborations, investing in resilient infrastructure and landscaping, and imagine new possibilities like a Safe Parking Day Center or a co-working space that serves both advocacy groups and the housing insecure.

And spiritual imagination is part of this growth, too: dreaming of how worship, music, prayer, and service can anchor the work of justice and care.

Why It Matters Now

The stakes are high. Climate disruptions are accelerating. Housing insecurity is intensifying. Political rhetoric is hardening. Many neighbors, especially LGBTQ youth, Trans folks, low-income families, and communities of color, already live with daily disruption. A resilience hub responds to these realities not with fear, but with hope.

It says: we will be a community that prepares, not just reacts.

It says: we will be a people who practice justice, not just charity.

It says: we will be a church that embodies resurrection, not just survival.

In short, a resilience hub is where faith and justice meet practice. It is where neighbors gather to build relationships strong enough to withstand disruption. It is a beacon of hope in uncertain times. And it is one way we are answering God’s call to be not just a church in Salem, but a community of resilience, justice, and love.

With Joyful Anticipation,

Pastor Robin