The Stone You Bring

Some of you know that I collect stones. Polished stones. Rough stones. Natural stones. Faceted stones. There was a time when I had quite a collection. My favorite was a palm-sized piece of Alaskan schist with marble-sized garnets in it. I loved the contrast of the geologies, and I loved thinking about what it took for this one little piece of magic to form.

This coming Sunday, I'm going to share some of my stones with the young (and young at heart!) as part of my kid's message. Polished ones. Rough ones. Each one unique. I'm going to ask them to notice how different each one is and then see if they can build something with them. Maybe discover that no stone can build anything all by itself.

That image has been following me through the week. Stones as unique as the stars but not meant to shine alone.

I keep thinking about how many people are carrying something heavy and singular right now: a particular grief, a particular gift, a particular way of seeing the world that nobody else seems to share. And how easy it is, in moments like these, to feel as if what we are holding doesn't quite fit anywhere. It is too rough, too polished, too small, too specific.

And yet….

Tomorrow is May Day - International Workers Day, and across this country, people are gathering under the banner of May Day Strong. United around a simple and clarifying demand: workers over billionaires. They are calling to protect Medicaid, Social Security, public schools, housing, civil and human rights. They're standing against the targeting of immigrants, people of color, Native communities, people with disabilities, and LGBTQ+ neighbors. This campaign simply says: No work. No school. No shopping. Thousands of cities and thousands of organizations. All distinct stones, showing up together to build a better world.

That is a powerful movement to be a part of, and a hope-filled future to build, especially when the wins are slow and the opposition is relentless. And yet, it is easy to be driven by what we are against and ignore the power of staying in the vision we are for.

I want to say clearly that anger is a legitimate response to what is happening in our world. I don't want to talk anyone out of it. But when we only use our anger to organize around an enemy, it tends to hollow us out over time. Joy, on the other hand, is different. Joy knows what it's building toward, not just what it's pushing against. This is the deep, communal joy that I was talking about last week. The joy New Testament writers reached for over and over again. Joy that carries the weight of something flowing from deep within, almost independent of what's happening on the surface.

The letter known as First Peter was written to scattered and exhausted communities on the edge of society who felt small and forgotten in the face of the Roman Empire. The writer wasn't encouraging them to "fight harder." The writer was reminding them that their community was being built into something new, something better. They were living stones building a foundation that we still stand on today.

This isn't just ancient poetry; it's a building plan! And buildings require a cornerstone: the stone or point that everything else aligns to. After worship this Sunday, I'm going to invite the kids to go find ours — the literal cornerstone of our building on the corner of Cottage and Marion. It has been there a long time, holding the line, keeping everything else true.

To add a layer, I think it is a good analogy for the Shepherding Team 2.0 who gathers twice a month and faithfully works to build the structure of the Resilience Hub from the stones around us. Shelley Wagener, Susan Smith, Bev Pratt, Jen Fujii, Dana McBrien and I have been meeting to move forward the vision approved at our Annual Meeting in February: co-working space for housing advocates, peer support groups, climate justice organizers, immigrant rights groups, racial justice partners. A place where organizations doing the daily, unglamorous work of justice can share a roof, cross-pollinate, and build the kind of sustained power that outlasts any single rally, administration, or election.

The Hub is still forming and will need more stones. May Day actions are happening tomorrow, and we are all invited to join in. Both are invitations to bring our whole selves — our grief, our anger, our particular gifts into community, and to feel joy.

I keep thinking about that piece of Alaskan schist. Those garnets didn't form quickly or easily. They formed under pressure, over time, in the company of other minerals being changed by the same forces. What came out the other side was something neither could have become alone.

That, for me, is where the joy lives. Not necessarily in the finished building or after the struggle is over. But right here, in the pressure and the process, while we are being changed by what we are building together.

So, bring the stone only you can bring. It is needed. It fits. And it always has.

In joyful anticipation,

Pastor Robin