Old and New. Now and Later. Faith and Doubt.

Since announcing our renovation plans last December, it has been quite a journey. Together as a church we’ve prayed, dreamed, and wrestled with what this building project means. We’ve celebrated exciting possibilities, endured setbacks (like losing architects we loved), shifted plans, and prayed some more. Finally, we’ve reached a place of clarity and confidence: we know who we are, whose we are, and what God is calling us to be for this community and beyond.

After countless meetings, new architects, and long evenings digging through archives and refining our wishlist, we are closer than ever to renewal. Our timeline points to fall of 2026 for construction to begin. Having this long runway has created a surprising gift — the chance to reflect, to ask hard questions, and to practice faithful patience.

Take our nursery, for example. The walls were a fading yellow. The toys, while once donated in love, had been loved into oblivion. We knew the space needed attention. But was it worth painting, scrubbing, and patching when a total renovation is around the corner? Or should we just wait?

That question — “Should we just wait?” — has echoed through nearly every corner of our building. The cracked window. The carpet that’s seen better days. The closets overflowing with who-knows-what. Should we wait until the big renovation? Or should we roll up our sleeves and do what we can, now?

Wrestling with these questions has shaped my faith. It’s forced me to ask: What truly matters? What can be let go? And at a deeper level: Is this something I can control, or something I must hand over to God? If the answer is beyond me, I unclench my fists and say, “Come, Holy Spirit.” But if it is within my reach, then I pray, “Lord, use me.”

Sometimes God calls us to wait in trust. Other times God calls us to paint the nursery, scrub the closet, or haul the filing cabinets to the curb. Small acts of care and faithfulness make space for God’s Spirit to bring renewal — even before a single hammer swings.

So while we wait for blueprints, permits, and construction crews, you’ll find me painting the nursery a fresh coat of white, slicing sourdough bread in the church kitchen to share with colleagues, or organizing worship supplies into one neat tub instead of three. Because I believe the prophet’s words still ring true: “See, I am doing a new thing!” (Isaiah 43:19). And I trust Paul’s reminder: “If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation; the old life has gone, a new one has begun” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

In many ways, we are always living in the “in between” — old and new, now and not yet, faith and doubt. But if I’ve learned anything in these past months, it’s this: choose faith. And never underestimate what a fresh coat of paint can do.

Until next time, grace and peace to you,
Pastor Hannah Faye Allred