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The Things That Last
Six alumni embrace the enduring qualities that matter most
At the outset, 2020 seemed like any other year. We made resolutions. We made puns about clearer vision in 2020. And it didn’t take long for that to change. First, news reports and hand sanitizer. Then sobering statistics and warnings about “flattening the curve” and “social distancing” that sent many of us home for work and school. Through it all, we have tenaciously prayed for scientists who search for answers; we have relied on our healthcare professionals; and we have hoped for a quick return to normal. We have also worked to focus on the qualities that matter most—community, resilience, creativity, innovation, faith, hope, and love. During the pandemic, WWU alumni have embodied these enduring qualities for a hurting world. Here, six of them share how they have faced COVID-19 their own way.
COMMUNITY: ‘Love requires a lull’
by Jordan Stephan'17
I pastor a very social church. Warm welcomes and unhurried conversations are what people look forward to at the weekly Sabbath gathering. So what do you do when this in-person element of community is put on hold? As a leader, how do you keep a church family connected while they’re apart?
Jordan Stephan '17
Associate pastor, Kirkland Seventh-day Adventist Church, Kirkland, Washington
If you’re like me, you start by doing the exact wrong thing.
When everything stopped, I got busy. Some of this busyness was natural—there were things that needed to be done, changes that needed to be implemented. But most of this busyness was self-inflicted. Like many in my congregation, I was very tied to my daily routines and workload. I crave structure and order, so to watch the scaffolding of my workweek crumble was stressful.
My solution? To make more work for myself. I took on video projects and digital meetings. I said “yes” to more than I should have. I fed into a culture that idolizes busyness—a full schedule means you are important and productive. But it also means that your capacity to love is low.
Relationships—good ones, at least—can’t be built in frenzy. And in a time when my church members wanted most to feel connected, I was depleting my ability do that pastorally. After a few weeks of this, I recognized what I was missing. My community wanted contact more than content, yet I had filled the new gaps in my schedule with projects rather than with people.
“Getting back to normal” is common language these days. But maybe the rush and hustle of my life is a normal I don’t want to return to. Building community takes time and sacrifice. Love requires a lull. Maybe this pandemic is an opportunity to invest more deeply into the relationships we cherish.
These months have drawn my eyes to Jesus, who was never bothered by interruption, never hurried in His conversations. He saw people as unwritten pages of a story, not the checkbox of a to-do list. As His disciple, I’m called to engage with others in ways that are much less measurable, but far more fulfilling.
