August 13thA Patient Ferment
To my dear TFMC family,
I’ve spent the last week grieving. I remarked to my family that when further demolition was done downstairs, I noticed I was using amputation language, “they took” another wall. It feels like a part of me has been taken away, without my choice.
Driving around our neighbourhood on Monday was depressing. I saw house after house, driveway after driveway, filled with the aftermath of the flooding. As people have been able to get into their basements and start demolishing, piles of carpets, furniture, and the other pieces of people’s lives have been placed at the curb to be taken away to a landfill. It’s heartbreaking.
And yet, at the beginning of this week, as I was able to speak to contractors, put together a plan, and begin to imagine beyond the disaster and chaos, I felt a spark of possibility emerging. Now that the demolition is done, the space is cleaned up, Christine and I can start to see the cracks in the foundation (literally and figuratively), and look at how we might be able to build back better.
On Sunday, I prayed about and named how God is a God of resurrection, bringing new life into places of death and destruction. Maybe it was when all the garbage bags were picked up. Maybe it was coming to terms with our far more open basement. Or maybe it was not having to see that reminder of what occurred anymore. Whatever it was, I began to feel some consolation and some sense of possibility. Perhaps it’s the glimmer of what new life could be emerging.
However, emerging is the keyword. This will take time. Many of us want this to be fixed so life can go on. Faith tells us God brings life from death. But our world also moves at its own pace and the work of rebuilding can take much longer.
I find myself fermenting impatience. But I'm learning to remember that God is not bound by my timeline. While I may be ready to move forward, tradespeople are stretched beyond capacity—they simply cannot keep up with demand. That doesn't make waiting easier, just understandable. And there’s a tension of wanting things done well and right, and wanting them fixed quickly. That tension is real, and it requires grace. Grace for each other. Grace for the slow pace. Grace for the waiting that feels so heavy.
I don't know where everyone is in this journey. Some are ready to plan. Others are still standing at the door of what's ruined, not sure if they can walk through. Some are angry. Some are numb. And that makes sense.
We shift this week in our worship series to talk about New Testament women, specifically women who helped the fledgling church grow. The growth of Pentecost Sunday was never repeated. Instead, what happened afterwards was a steady, slow growth, one that theologian Alan Kreider called the “Patient Ferment of the Early Church.”
In some respects, those affected by flooding are experiencing our own patient ferment. Now that the waters have receded, basements are being demolished, disinfected, and cleared, the long path to rebuild begins. Moving toward resurrecting the places of gathering, of serenity, laughter, and love.
Yours,
Craig Janzen Neufeld, Pastor