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There are things I miss about Oklahoma. I miss the wide-open spaces, the cows in the pasture, Braum’s, Wayne’s Drive-In, clergy friends I’ve known since I first began ministry, family members, and friends. I miss being able to look up at the night sky and see stars clearly. There are times when I think about getting in the car and driving back across the country. But I’ve come to realize something. If I got in the car and drove back, it wouldn’t be the Oklahoma I remember. The roads might be the same. Some of the buildings might still be there. Some of the people might still be there. But time has moved on. The communities have changed. The people have changed. And I have changed.

I love North Carolina. It has become home. Yet isn’t it funny how memory works? History has a way of carrying nostalgia with it. During my first year at Broad Street UMC, Bishop Carter visited. I remember him saying something to the effect that nostalgia isn’t always an accurate memory of the past. Instead, it is the emotion we carry about the past. We remember how something made us feel, and over time those feelings can become larger than reality itself. The truth is that many things we now call “the good old days” probably didn’t seem quite so perfect when we were living them.

Churches can be especially good at nostalgia. “It was better when…” “I remember when…” Fill in the blank. The choir was larger. The sanctuary was fuller. There were more children. The budget was stronger. Whatever memory we choose, we tend to polish it until it shines brighter than it ever did in real life.

When I was a child, my dad took me on the Haunted Mansion ride at Disneyland. I remember being terrified. I also remember thinking it was the greatest ride I had ever experienced. Years later, while visiting a friend who lived in California, I rode the Haunted Mansion again. As I rode through, I realized something. It wasn’t scary. It wasn’t even the most fun ride in the park. The ride hadn’t changed very much. I had. More importantly, my dad wasn’t sitting beside me. What made that memory special wasn’t the ride itself. It was being a child. It was being with my dad. It was that moment in time. You can’t recreate that. It belonged to that season of life.

If I’m honest, if I hear one more time, “We don’t have…” fill in the blank, or “We used to have…” fill in the blank, or “We can’t because we don’t have…” fill in the blank, I may lose my mind. This way of thinking is one of the things that contributed to burnout in my ministry and part of why I eventually needed to take a break. Everywhere I went, it seemed like people were looking backward. No one appreciated the present moment. No one focused on what God might be doing now. The past lingered over every conversation as a reason why we couldn’t move forward.

The strange thing is that this isn’t how the Bible uses the past. Throughout Scripture, God’s people are constantly reminded of their history. They remember the Exodus. They remember crossing the Jordan River. They remember God’s provision in the wilderness. They remember God’s faithfulness through exile, hardship, and uncertainty. But those stories are never told so people can sit around wishing they could go backward. The stories are told so people remember that if God was faithful then, God will be faithful now. The past is used to show God’s people that they can make it through the present because God has brought them through the past. The past is meant to inspire hope, courage, and trust. It is not meant to become an excuse for why we cannot move forward.

For some people, there will never be enough. If 100 people show up for worship on Sunday, someone will ask why there aren’t 200. If 200 show up, someone will ask why there aren’t 300. If the church is financially healthy, someone will focus on what is still missing. The finish line keeps moving. Why can’t we simply thank God for what we have right here and right now? Why can’t we celebrate the people who are present instead of mourning the people who are not? Why can’t we give thanks for the ministries that are thriving instead of constantly comparing them to another era? And if God chooses to bless us with more in the future, why can’t we thank God for that too? Gratitude and growth are not enemies. In fact, gratitude may be the very thing that helps us see where God is leading us next.

How we talk about today and tomorrow matters. It especially matters when visitors walk through our doors. Visitors don’t know what we used to have. They don’t know what committee existed ten years ago, how many people were in worship twenty years ago, or what the budget looked like in another decade. More importantly, they don’t care. What they care about is what they see right now. Is the church welcoming? Is there joy? Is there purpose? Is God present? Are people serving? Are lives being changed? Their journey begins today, not yesterday.

When visitors hear us constantly talking about what we don’t have, what we can’t do, or what we used to be, they begin to wonder if we believe in our own future. But when they hear us talking about what God is doing, what possibilities lie ahead, and how we can serve together, they encounter hope. And one thing is absolutely inevitable. Things will change. Let them. Don’t be afraid. Every generation of Christians has had to adapt, adjust, and discover new ways to share the unchanging love of God in a changing world. Change is not the enemy. Fear is.

That’s why I’ve always been a little puzzled when churches spend so much energy trying to go backward. Even if we could recreate every program, every tradition, every attendance record, and every detail exactly as it once was, it would not be the same. The people would be different. The community would be different. We would be different. Sometimes trying to relive the past can even rob us of appreciating what made it special in the first place.

Jesus seemed to understand this. In Luke 9:62, Jesus says, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” I don’t think Jesus was telling us to forget our history. Our stories matter. Our memories matter. The people who shaped us matter. But Jesus understood that the kingdom of God is always moving forward. Discipleship is not about living in yesterday. It is about following God into tomorrow.

So here’s my challenge to everyone reading this. For one week, say nothing negative about the present. Don’t complain about not having enough people. Don’t complain about not having enough money, volunteers, resources, or programs. Instead, focus on what we do have. Focus on the gifts God has already placed in our hands. Focus on the opportunities right in front of us. Ask yourself: What resources can we use? What ministry can we strengthen? What positive change can I help create? What can I do to make today count?

Because today is not a waiting room for some better future. Today is the day God has given us. Let’s stop wishing we were somewhere else, sometime else, or someone else. Let’s make today what God is calling it to be.

So yes, there are days when I miss Oklahoma.  I miss friends, family members, and places that helped shape me. I am grateful for every one of those memories. But God is not waiting for me in Oklahoma. God is not waiting for the church in 1950, 1975, 1995, or even five years ago. God is here. There is ministry to do today. There are people to love today. There are opportunities to serve today. There are blessings to celebrate today. The good old days may have been good, but God’s grace is not trapped in yesterday. God is right here, right now, calling us forward.  See you Sunday!

Peace, Pastor Tracy