Her words were riveting, as twenty-two-year-old National Youth Poet Laureate Amanda Gorman read her poem at President Biden’s inauguration.

When day comes we ask ourselves,
where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry, a sea we must wade
We’ve braved the belly of the beast
We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace
And the norms and notions of what just is
Isn’t always just-ice
And yet the dawn is ours before we knew it
Somehow we do it
Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed
a nation that isn’t broken but simply unfinished.

What if you and I, too, are not broken, but simply unfinished? I definitely classify myself as unfinished. I certainly am compared to previous generations when young women of means would attend a “finishing school” where they learned the social graces and etiquette of the upper class.

I had a conversation last week with several leaders and colleagues about how difficult and “unfinished” this time is. Our clergy are tired, stressed, and worried for many reasons: COVID-19; racism; the upcoming General Conference, with votes around human sexuality; how to reinvent themselves in worship and ministry; the inability to do face-to-face pastoral care; financial stress in our congregations; anxiety and depression; a contentious presidential election; and the January 6 attack on the Capitol. How can we gain our bearings? What will center us? I’ve often felt like Jacob, limping away from Peniel. Certainly, we’re unfinished. We have a long way to go. 

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