Transition ≠ Change

Change is a part of life.
picture from Psychology Today

Some people say that the only constants are death and taxes. Maybe we can count on them, but - if you'll pardon the oxymoron - change, too, is constant.

I used to think, "Maybe people didn't notice back then," but a quick look at "Change" on Wikiquotes destroys that notion.

"Nothing endures but change" and
"You could not step twice into the same river;
for other waters are ever flowing on to you."
Heraclitus, Greek philosopher who influenced Plato and Socrates

More recently, Charles Dickens wrote:

"Change begets change. Nothing propagates so fast" in Martin Chuzzlewit.

And, of course, Bob Dylan sang:

"The Times They Are a-Changin'."

So, change happens. Nothing we do will stop it. All that's left, then, is to decide how we'll respond. Will we face it squarely? Bury our heads in the sand like the proverbial ostrich? Will we embrace it, or whine and fuss?

I'm facing changes this summer as I prepare to leave the church where I've served as associate pastor for three years to lead another congregation a hundred miles from here. Shall I look back or ahead? Grieve what will end? Celebrate new beginnings?

Something I learned last week: change and transition are completely different things. Change is the stuff that happens – whether we or someone else initiate it, or it just happens. Transition is how we respond to the change. I never realized!

I'm one of those odd ducks who (often) embrace change. Change is healthy and keeps us vital. When churches stop changing and growing, they start dying. So do we as individuals; I'm sure of it. That's not to say transitions are easy or fun. (Maybe sometimes, but often not.)

Since I'm moving, I only have two more rehearsals with the amateur orchestra I joined last year. I've loved being part of this group. Even when I don't make time to practice, I look forward to Tuesday evenings as a time when I can make music, laugh, and be simply "Jayneann" instead of "Pastor Jayneann." This week as I looked around the group, I felt my eyes get teary. After rehearsal, I had to sit in the car for a few minutes before they cleared enough for me to drive home.

If there's a message in all this, it's that, while change will happen, we have a tremendous amount of control over how much pain or joy we'll experience. I'll soon be leaving behind many people I've come to love, but it can't be helped. I grieve yet I also celebrate the new adventures in store for them as well as for me and for the faith community I'll soon come to love, I'll make a point of enjoying the next two rehearsals, and subsequent concert, and when I get to my new situation, I won't wait a year and a half to join whatever community music ensemble is offered there.

The seed has to stop being a seed if it's ever going to produce fruit.  John 12:24