October 26, 2025 Reflection

If you’ve ever tried to put together Ikea furniture on your own, you know that collaboration can be… complicated. It starts out so well. You open the box, full of confidence, thinking, How hard can it be? Two hours later (or 6 hours later!), you’re holding an Allen key in one hand and a leftover screw in the other, wondering why your “simple” bookshelf now looks more like modern art. And somewhere in that moment, you might find yourself thinking, maybe a friend would have been a good idea after all.

Part of being human is that strange mix of wanting to be independent, to prove we can handle it, and at the same time knowing deep down that we really do need each other.

Collaboration is not always easy. It can be messy and slow, and it can stretch our patience. But it’s also where some of the most beautiful, Spirit-filled work happens, when we bring our different gifts, our different ways of seeing the world, and trust that together, God can make something more whole than any one of us could create alone.

In Luke 10, Jesus sends seventy followers out, two by two, to share the good news that the Kingdom of God has come near. He doesn’t send them out with a script, or a manual, a project timeline or a list of measurable outcomes. No budget, no roadmap. Just each other. And a blessing of peace.

Imagine being one of those seventy. You’ve been following Jesus for a while, you’ve watched him heal, teach, and challenge people in power, and now he says, “Okay, your turn.” You look at your partner, maybe someone you don’t even know that well, and think, Really? Us? But that’s the point. Jesus doesn’t send them alone because the mission isn’t just about efficiency; it’s about relationship. It’s about what happens between us when we share the work of love.

We sometimes imagine Jesus’ ministry as a one-person operation, Jesus, wandering from town to town, doing miracles, teaching crowds, changing lives. Jesus could have done it all himself. If anyone could have pulled off a one-person changemaking operation, it would have been him. But when you look closely at the gospels, that’s not how it was. Instead, he chose collaboration. He trusted others, people who were still figuring it out, and he trusted the Spirit to work through their relationships.

From the very beginning, Jesus gathered people around him… fishermen, tax collectors, women, skeptics, zealots. They learned, stumbled, argued, laughed, shared meals, and slowly became a community shaped by God’s vision of love. When Jesus sends the seventy out, he’s extending that same pattern. He’s saying, You don’t have to do it all yourself. In fact, you can’t. This movement, this way of life, depends on shared leadership, mutual care, and holy collaboration.

I’ve seen that same Spirit of collaboration right here among us, in moments that may not look dramatic, but are deeply faithful. Like when one person starts a small idea, maybe a conversation about supporting a local outreach, and suddenly two or three others say, “I can help with that.” Before you know it, there’s a whole team organizing meals, or care packages, or a fundraiser, each person bringing what they can, each contribution a piece of something larger.

Or when the gospel choir gathers for practice, voices blending, someone missing a note here or there, but together creating something beautiful that no solo voice could offer.

Or when our children and youth gather in Children’s Community, learning, working, and playing together, discovering not just Bible stories, but what it means to cooperate, to take turns, to listen, to share. That’s collaboration at its most sacred level.

Last week in my sermon on compassion, I talked about the Café, our mental health ministry, and the Thrift Shop. This week, we had our monthly Thrift Shop leadership team meeting and for the opening I usually share a quote, as we do in most meetings and small groups around here.  But this time, I decided to share the part of my sermon from last week when I talked about how compassion shows up in the Thrift Shop.

One of our volunteers smiled and said, “I have a story from this week,” and as she spoke, the whole room grew quiet.

She told us about a woman who had come into the shop asking if there were any canes for sale. She was in severe, chronic pain and hoped a cane might help her get around. There weren’t any on the floor, but one of our volunteers invited her to sit for a while in the café,  to rest, to breathe, and the volunteer went out to the shed because she remembered seeing some canes stored there.

A few minutes later, she came back with one. The woman asked what it cost, and the volunteer said gently, “There’s no charge. Please take it. This church cares for people, and you came here in pain,  we want to help.” The woman began to cry. The volunteer was in tears. And when she told the story at the meeting, we were all in tears, too. It was such a simple act, yet so holy. Because that’s how compassion and collaboration meet, one person seeing a need, another offering space, another remembering where something useful might be tucked away. It takes all of them, working quietly together, embodying these values that Jesus taught his followers, to create these little moments of grace that happen here every day.

No one can do it alone. Every volunteer, every shopper, every donor, every prayer, every song, they’re all part of this living web of kindness. That’s collaboration in its truest form.

These are small moments, yes, but they’re part of how the Spirit builds something lasting, something that goes far. There’s a proverb from Africa that says, “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” It’s one of those sayings that feels almost too simple, and yet every time we forget it, life has a way of reminding us.

When we try to go fast, to do things on our own, we might make quick progress, but it’s usually not the deep, soul-changing kind. True transformation, in people, in communities, in the world, takes time, trust, and teamwork. That’s the way Jesus worked. He wasn’t just changing hearts; he was changing how people lived together.

And sometimes, reminders of that truth come from the most unexpected places.

This morning, my sermon was already done and read over and untouched since Friday, but I was watching a short video and wanted to tell you about it.  The video was by Tod Maffin who is from Vancouver Island and a former CBC radio host and producer.  I have been following his commentary lately because he has interesting things to say.  This morning he was talking about the recent TV commercial that Doug Ford and the Ontario government had broadcast all over the US networks, which was basically just a commercial featuring old clips of former President Ronald Reagan speaking about trade and the problems with tariffs, which is exactly what is happening in the US right now – increasing prices, creating insecurity… and in response to this ad campaign Donald Trump was angry – he didn’t like having Ronald Reagan’s words quoted against him!! So he got on his anti-Canada rampage again and slapped 10% more tariffs on us in retaliation.  Anyway – the thing that struck me in this video, and the part that felt fitting for today – was not the politics, it was what Tod Maffin said in response.  He said “but Trump has forgotten one critical point in his strategy… the Canadian Spirit… and the one defining characteristic of our nation, that even in the worst of times, we do not give up on each other. And I thought – yes, that’s it. 

That’s collaboration.  That’s the Spirit of Christ at work among us — the kind of faith that says, we’re in this together.

When things get tough, we don’t turn on each other; we turn toward each other. We collaborate. We care. We find new ways forward together.

When Jesus sends the disciples out in pairs, he’s saying: Don’t go fast. Go far. Don’t go it alone, find your people. Because collaboration changes us. It stretches our patience and our compassion. It makes room for gifts that aren’t our own. And when we work together, really together, God multiplies what we bring, just like that day when a few loaves and fish became enough for thousands.

One of the most striking parts of this story is how much Jesus tells his followers to rely on others. “Don’t take a purse or sandals,” he says. “Stay wherever you are welcomed. Eat what is set before you.” That’s not just practical advice; it’s a spiritual practice.

He’s teaching them vulnerability. He’s teaching them to depend on the kindness of others, to discover that the Kingdom of God is built, not on control or power, but on trust and mutual generosity.

That’s collaboration, too. Not only working with those we choose, but being open to receiving from those we meet along the way. Sometimes, collaboration looks like letting someone else lead. Sometimes, it means letting go of our need to have it all figured out.

Sometimes, it means showing up with what we have and trusting that someone else will bring what we’re missing.

At my previous church, during one of our community outreach projects, someone said to me, “You know, I don’t feel like I’m doing much. I just bake cookies.” And I smiled and said, “Well, your cookies are the reason half the volunteers show up.” And it’s true. Every act of service, every bit of contribution, is part of the whole.

When Jesus sends the seventy out, he doesn’t rank them by skill. He doesn’t say, “Okay, healers in this group, you’re in charge. The talkers, you handle public relations.” He simply pairs them up, different people, different gifts, and trusts that together, they will discover what they can do. That’s the holy mystery of collaboration: it multiplies grace.

I sometimes imagine what it must have been like for those seventy followers as they headed out in pairs, no clear plan, no safety net, just trusting that the Spirit would meet them along the way. Maybe nervous, maybe excited, maybe not even sure what they’d say when they knocked on the first door. But I think Jesus knew that what they’d find on that journey wasn’t just new towns and new faces, it was each other. They’d discover courage they didn’t know they had, simply because they weren’t walking alone.

And isn’t that true for us too? When we look back on the times we’ve done something meaningful, or brave, or healing, chances are, we didn’t do it by ourselves. There was someone praying for us, or showing up beside us, or making us laugh when things got hard. That’s how God works, not through solo heroes, but through teams, communities, partnerships, circles of care.

And maybe that’s exactly what we need to remember in our own work as changemakers: that we don’t have to have everything perfectly organized before we start.

We don’t have to be experts or heroes. We just need to find our people, those who will walk beside us, pray with us, challenge us, laugh with us, and then take that next faithful step together.

Because changemaking is not about solo performances. It’s about movements. It’s about communities of people who keep showing up, offering what they can, and trusting that God is at work in the mix.

Maybe that’s what it means to be the church in our time, to be people who know we’re stronger together. Who know that even when the work ahead feels steep, there are companions beside us, and a Spirit within us, and a Christ who goes before us.

So today, I invite you to think about the partnerships in your life, the people who make your work, your faith, your living possible.

Who are your companions on the road?
Who helps you see what you can’t see on your own?
Who reminds you that you’re not doing this alone?

And just as importantly, who might be waiting for you to be that companion for them?

So as we continue in this Changemakers series, let’s remember: Compassion is what moves us to act, and collaboration is what keeps us going when the road gets long. Let’s be the kind of changemakers who don’t rush ahead alone, but who go far, together.

Because the world needs changemakers, and it needs us to work together, to go far, to walk side by side, and to trust that when we do, God’s Kingdom really does come near.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s a bit like building Ikea furniture after all. We can try to do it on our own, instructions half-understood, pieces scattered everywhere, wondering why there’s always a mysterious extra screw left over.

But when someone comes alongside, maybe holding the other end of the bookshelf, reading the instructions out loud, or just making us laugh in the middle of the mess, suddenly, what seemed impossible starts to take shape.

That’s how God builds the kingdom: not through perfect plans or flawless execution, but through people willing to work together, piece by piece, until love takes form among us.

May it be so! Amen.