February 2007

Taking Pictures                                                                                  From the Pastor

“Photographers are record keepers for God.” -Daisy Cheng

            I am always captivated by photos—old black and white photos, family photos, photos of people, places and events, both special and ordinary.  We take photos to remember and capture life, to freeze just one moment in our lives that are always moving forward into eternity, whether we want them to or not. When I was little, my parents had a picture frame in the shape of a yellow school bus and it contained our school pictures, one photo for every year of school.  Now, looking back, I mark the momentous year that I cut my hair (it had been long), the grade that both my brother and I wore- coincidentally- the exact same red plaid shirt for our photo (it had been a hand-me-down) and the year that puberty hit with a vengeance.  Other pictures in our family’s photo album mark life events: graduations, weddings, retirement, a new home, a family vacation, and that impromptu family dinner where laughter was most definitely the main course. Of course, there were “missing” photos as well: the wake of a beloved friend, the time that I wreaked my car beyond repair, and the family dinner that passed in silence.  The progression of our photos connects us with our history and the passage of time. They remind us that, whether we can see the effects or not, we are all growing and changing from day to day.

Just as in life, we bring all kinds of expectations to our photo-taking.  We want the light to shine just right.  We hope for a grin that doesn’t look goofy or twisted into an obnoxious smirk. Usually, we want the photographer to show our most flattering side—a particular image of ourselves that doesn’t show the struggle, shadows, tears, and coffee stains of our everyday lives.  There is always a hopeful idealism to our expectations of the camera’s lens.  We want our true selves to shine forth, but not our whole selves, lest the photo reveal too much. Yet, often the very best photos are those that actually capture the essence of who we are.  These pictures somehow give us back ourselves and our loved ones in our entirety—wrinkles, ripples, dimples, and all.  They are the photos that, over time, grant us a deeper perspective about what it means to be human.  They are the photographs that help us to remember who we really are and who we once were.  They are the photographs that remind us of how far we have come and how much we have changed.

            The German photographer, August Sander once said, “In photography there are no shadows that cannot be illuminated.”  I imagine God as a photographer helping us to see ourselves from many different angles so that we can understand better how we interact with the world around us in both positive and negative ways.  God brings light into our darkness and shadows—by helping us to envision possibility and promise where it only appears that none exists.  God pays attention to the shadows in our lives, the regrets and difficult moments that we keep hidden from the camera’s eye.  By gently exposing these things to light of Jesus Christ, God helps us to become more transparent and aware, open to God’s power to transform sorrow into joy, pain into promise, and our prisons of disappointment into open spaces of optimism.  

At Southampton, we are presently engaged in a bit of picture-taking ourselves.  In addition to the new church-wide directory that will help us find, recognize, and (hopefully) welcome those in our midst, we are also encouraging each other to take an imaginary “photo” of our church community in the next five years.  In our recent church survey, the majority of you wrote that you desired “growth.” What, specifically, will that growth look like?  How will it relate to our mission and commitment to become disciples of Jesus Christ?  What are the necessary elements of growth for us and how do they relate to each other—and to you? 

Growth can be physical, spiritual, emotional, relational, mental, economic, missional, etc.  Just as we wouldn’t measure a good photograph by the specific number of people in the photo, church growth is often best measured by the quality of God’s light reflected by our particular discipleship--rather than simply the number of people who sign our guestbook or sit in our pews.  It is measured by how we commit ourselves to sharing that light within the world through our own unique calling. Recently a member brought me a bulletin of a church in our denomination that has grown by sixty members in the past year and half.  This church has an intentional witness for peace and justice within their community and the world.  In what specific ways do we reflect God’s call for peace and justice in the difficult times in which we live?  How does the struggle for peace and justice shape our contribution to God’s family album?

Growth is measured by how faithful we are to our mission, to our community, and God’s commandment to “love your neighbor as yourself.” Our growth is measured by our willingness to be transformed by our Creator—shadows and all.

On February 4^th, I invite you to try to envision this church from the lens of God’s perspective as seen through the ministry of Jesus Christ. After worship, I invite you to come and swap ideas, so that we can get a better snapshot of how the disciples of the First Congregational Church of Southampton fit into God’s picture and the family album that connects us all.

Yours in Christ,

Rev. Dee