I recently attended the ELCA Churchwide Assembly and heard a presentation from the Rev. Chad Rimmer. The overall theme for the assembly was “for the life of the world,” and this presentation has been rattling around in my head ever since. You know how sometimes you encounter an idea that feels like it was meant for exactly where you are in life? This was one of those moments.

When Love Becomes the Foundation

Pastor Rimmer kept returning to this simple but profound truth from the Nicene Creed: “God is love.” Not just that God loves us, but that love itself is what God is. This isn’t the greeting card version of love, either. This is the raw, creative force that breathes life into everything and the healing power that puts broken things back together.

This completely shifted how I see the world around me. Creation isn’t something God did once, way back when. It’s happening right now, constantly. Every breath I take, every meaningful conversation, every sunset that stops me in my tracks—it’s all love showing up in real time.

Think about the last time something in nature took your breath away. What if that moment was actually God’s love expressing itself directly to you?

Living in the Gap

But here’s what really resonated with me: the honest acknowledgment of where we actually are right now. We’re stuck between “what is” and “what could be.” The world feels like it’s coming apart—climate change, injustice everywhere, violence, political division. Sometimes the gap between what Jesus promised and what I see on the news feels impossibly huge.

I know that anxiety intimately. The crushing weight of feeling like I should somehow fix everything, like I need to have the perfect response to every crisis. It’s paralyzing, honestly.

Finding Freedom in Grace

But this is where Lutheran theology becomes a lifeline. I’m saved by grace, not by my ability to solve the world’s problems. That doesn’t mean I get to just sit back and do nothing, but it means I can stop carrying this impossible burden of needing to be perfect.

Grace frees us from the anxiety of having to get everything right. We can act faithfully, messily, imperfectly—and trust that God works through our flawed efforts.

The Church as Living Adaptation

One insight that really stuck with me was comparing the church to how evolution works. Stay with me here—it’s not as strange as it sounds. Evolution keeps the forms that actually help life flourish and adapts everything else. The church should do the same: hold onto the gospel core that gives life, but be willing to change everything else that’s not working.

This gives me hope when I watch the church struggle with change. We’re not throwing everything away; we’re growing deeper roots while stretching toward new possibilities.

Learning from Sankofa

There’s an African concept called Sankofa that captures this beautifully—a bird that flies forward while looking back to carry seeds from the past. That’s exactly how I want to live my faith. I need the wisdom from those who walked this path before me, but I also need to respond to the unique challenges we’re facing today.

This isn’t about getting nostalgic for some imagined “golden age.” It’s about letting ancestral wisdom actually inform present action.

Widening the Circle

What moved me most was the call to expand our vision of church—to see it as a global community, to work across denominational lines, and to make room at the table for people who’ve been shut out. The Eucharist isn’t just a ritual we perform; it’s practice for the kind of world we’re supposed to be building.

Every time we take communion, we’re rehearsing what it looks like to welcome everyone, to share what we have, to remember those who aren’t yet at the table.

A Sacred Moment of Possibility

Rimmer called this moment we’re living in “a holy moment of moral imagination.” Despite all the anxiety and uncertainty, this is actually a sacred opportunity to be part of creating something new—a more loving, just, and sustainable way of living in the world.

I don’t have to wait until I figure everything out or until the church gets its act together. I can start right where I am, trusting that grace is working through my messy, imperfect attempts to live faithfully.

An Invitation to Hope

The presentation ended with this image that won’t leave me: “Silence my soul. These trees are prayers. I ask the tree. Tell me about God and it blossoms.” Sometimes the deepest theology happens not when we’re thinking really hard but when we’re simply paying attention to the world around us—a world that, despite all the brokenness, keeps revealing love in countless ways.

Moving Forward Together

If you’re feeling overwhelmed by the state of the world, if you’re wondering how to live faithfully in such chaotic times, you’re not alone. The gap between what is and what could be is real, and it’s painful. But it’s also sacred space where transformation happens.

We’re living in a moment when the Spirit is calling us to participate in something larger than ourselves—the ongoing work of creation, healing, and reconciliation. The word is still making the world, and somehow, we get to be part of that.

What would it look like for you to lean into grace rather than anxiety? How might you find your place in this great work of love that spans far beyond any individual life?