This article continues a conversation on generative leadership and encouraging others to step into leadership roles, ensuring that the organization remains dynamic and adaptable. Catch up with the first and second articles to get the full conversation.

 

 

“Leading the turnaround in an organization is easy,” said no one ever. It is as tough as vision-casting, or decision-making and it is frequently about navigating the often-unspoken emotions that tether people to their sense of identity and belonging. This is especially poignant in churches. Nostalgia often masks deeper fears and attachments. The angst is rarely about the surface issues that people raise, and more about the question beneath the question: “Do I still belong here?”

One Sunday, a church member approached me with concern. “Pastor,” they said, “people are complaining that you do too much during Communion. We are not used to the full liturgy; we usually just have a few words and then the people come up for the bread and juice.” This was not the first time I had heard grumbles about the Communion liturgy. Some felt it was too long, too formal, or too unfamiliar. So, I saw this as another teaching moment (Something I love to do!) I took the time to explain why I use the full liturgy. 

The liturgy is an expression of our theology. It is the rhythm of our faith story, and a shared language that reminds us of who we are and whose we are. It is our faith tradition, and it is meaning. The full liturgy allows us to experience more fully, the real presence of God. It is not to say that a shortened version won’t have meaning. The member was not referring to a shortened version, but one where the elements are given without any liturgy. After my aisle-way explanation, and a question about what do the members want that would help them make meaning of their relationship with Christ, the member added quietly, “I don’t know. We just want our church.”

That phrase lingered in my heart long after the conversation ended. It was not about liturgy at all. It was about something much deeper; this yearning for the familiar, or a fear that the church they loved was slipping away. “We just want our church” was not a critique of Communion practices; it was a plea for reassurance, and a way of asking, “Do we still belong in this changing space?”

The tug of nostalgia

Nostalgia is a powerful force, especially in the life of a church. It clings to the memories of what once was - Sunday mornings with familiar hymns, comfortable perspectives, potlucks where everyone knew each other’s name, and a sense of stability in a world that constantly shifts. For many, the church is one of the last bastions of “home,” where they believe things should remain steady and safe.

But nostalgia, while comforting, can also be deceptive. It often idealizes the past, erasing the struggles and challenges that existed alongside the good memories. It resists change, even when change is necessary for growth, and it misnames ‘the good times’ which were truly only good for a favored few. Nostalgia says, “If we can just get back to how it was, everything will be okay.” However, the truth is, we cannot move backward and expect to thrive. The church is a living body, called to adapt, stretch, and grow while still staying rooted in its core mission.

The fear beneath the surface

I recognized the fear embedded in the member’s words, “We just want our church.” It was the fear of losing community, fear of not recognizing the place they once felt at home, fear that their identity - tightly intertwined with the church - was being left behind, and the fear that everything was just outside of their control. 

A faithful response means requires that the fear is engaged rather than dismissed. It is further critical to recognize that when people resist change, they are often protecting something deemed precious to them. They are not always rejecting the new; they are grieving the loss of the old. It is easy enough to be impatient with what may appear to be petty complaints. Some of the complaints truly are. However, some are also genuinely rooted in anxiety.

Working through the fear

Though I could have, I chose not to dismiss the member’s concerns or the emotions of those they spoke for. Instead, I invited them into a conversation about what Communion represents and how the liturgy connects us not just to our past, but to the broader story of the church universal. This presented an opportunity to also ask, “What do you think we lose if we only focus on what’s familiar? How can we honor the past while also being open to what God is doing now?”

We talked about belonging - not just to a church building or a set of traditions, but to a community that is alive, dynamic, and responsive to the Holy Spirit. I encouraged them to see the full liturgy as a way of deepening their connection to that community, instead of as something alien or unnecessary.

Over time, I found that addressing these deeper emotional attachments helped people move from resistance to curiosity. By acknowledging their fears and affirming the importance of their history, I could gently guide them toward embracing the larger vision of what the church is called to be - a place where all belong, not just those who remember “how it used to be.”

The tension of Generative Leadership

Generative leadership means holding this tension - the longing for the past and the need for forward movement. Thus, it is important to create space for grief while also inspiring hope. It is about honoring the emotional weight of “we just want our church” while asking, “What is God calling our church to become?”

Ultimately, the goal is not to erase nostalgia but to transform it into a bridge that connects the past to the future. The liturgy I shared during Communion became a tool for that transformation, and a reminder that while traditions matter, they are not static. They are living practices that draw us closer to God and to one another, even as the world around us changes.

The work of helping a congregation (or any organization) navigate nostalgia, fear, and belonging is ongoing. It requires patience, empathy, and a willingness to listen deeply. It also requires courage to invite people into the discomfort of growth, to challenge the easy comfort of nostalgia, and to hold steady when resistance arises.

Generative leadership calls us to shepherd our people through these moments, helping them see that “their church” is not disappearing but it is evolving. Together, we learn that the past is a foundation, not a fortress, and that the church we long for is already here - alive, growing, and ready to answer God’s call.