Pieces of the Puzzle

You have probably heard the wisdom from Ecclesiastes before: “Two are better than one… a cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” It is a simple image, but it speaks to something deeply true. Strength is found in shared life. No one is meant to carry the weight alone.

As our congregation prepares for the upcoming Holston Annual Conference, those words take on even deeper meaning. Across the United Methodist Church, there is renewed focus on a shared vision: to love boldly, serve joyfully, and lead courageously. At the heart of that vision is a truth Methodists have always understood — the church was never meant to stand alone.

The church is connectional by design.

More Than Cooperation

In 1 Corinthians, the Apostle Paul describes the church in a way that goes beyond simple teamwork. He does not say Christians are merely people working side by side. He says we are the Body of Christ.

That changes everything.

A body is not a collection of independent parts that happen to exist near each other. A body is interconnected, interdependent, and held together by something deeper than convenience or preference.

Paul writes:

“The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I have no need of you.’”

Every part matters. Every part belongs. Every part depends on the others.

Paul pushes this even further when he says:

“If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together.”

This is more than compassion. It is shared life. The joys and struggles of one part of the Body affect the whole.

The church, then, is not a loose gathering of individuals pursuing separate missions. It is a living, connected body in Christ — united by the Spirit and called into shared ministry.

The Methodist Understanding of Connection

This vision has shaped Methodism from the very beginning.

John Wesley understood that faith does not grow well in isolation. The early Methodist movement was intentionally organized to keep people connected to God and to one another.

Wesley formed societies for worship and spiritual growth. He organized class meetings where people gathered regularly for accountability, encouragement, and honest conversation about their lives with God. He gathered leaders in conferences for prayer, discernment, and shared decision-making.

None of this was accidental.

Methodism was built around the conviction that no Christian should attempt to live the faith alone, and no congregation should attempt to carry out ministry alone.

Connection is not merely part of the church’s structure. It is part of Methodist theology. It reflects what it means to live as the Body of Christ.

What Is Annual Conference?

For United Methodists, one of the clearest expressions of this connection is the Annual Conference.

It is easy to think of Annual Conference as simply a church meeting filled with reports, votes, and schedules. But at its heart, Annual Conference is something much deeper.

According to the Book of Discipline, the Annual Conference is the basic body of the church. It is a central expression of who we are together.

During Annual Conference, the church gathers to:

• Worship together
• Ordain and commission clergy
• Discern God’s direction for ministry
• Strengthen and support churches across the conference
• Celebrate what God is doing through the people of God

It is not simply administrative work. It is a spiritual gathering — the Body of Christ listening together for the guidance of the Holy Spirit.

A Church Larger Than Ourselves

Every local congregation is part of something larger.

Our church is connected to other churches through the district. Districts are connected through the Holston Annual Conference. Conferences are part of a wider jurisdiction, which together form the global United Methodist Church.

That connection looks something like this:

Local Church → District → Holston Annual Conference → Jurisdiction → General Conference

This connection is not merely organizational. It is relational and spiritual.

What happens across the wider church affects us. Decisions, ministries, leadership development, and mission efforts shape the life of our congregation. At the same time, what happens here matters to the wider church as well. The ministry, prayers, service, and witness of this congregation become part of a much larger story.

We are participating in something bigger than ourselves.

Why Connection Matters

A single congregation can do meaningful ministry. Week after week, local churches worship, serve, care for people, and bear witness to Christ in their communities.

But there are limits to what any one church can do alone.

Connection changes that.

Together, churches can respond to disasters with resources and volunteers. Together, the church can plant new congregations and support global missions. Together, the church can educate and form clergy for long-term ministry. Together, the church can reach across cultures, communities, and generations.

Connection is not simply about efficiency or effectiveness. It reflects the very nature of the church itself.

The Body of Christ is meant to live as one — sharing one mission, one calling, and one Spirit.

Supporting Those Who Represent Us

In the coming weeks, members of our congregation will travel to the Holston Annual Conference. They will not go alone. They go carrying the prayers, faith, and shared calling of this congregation.

As they worship, discern, and participate in the work of the wider church, they represent not only themselves but all of us.

That means their work is also our work.

As a congregation, we are called to support them in prayer:

• For wisdom in decision-making
• For attentiveness to the Holy Spirit
• For grace in conversation
• For unity within the Body of Christ

Annual Conference is not something happening somewhere else. It is part of our shared life together.

Connected in Christ

As we return to the image from Ecclesiastes — “a cord of three strands is not quickly broken” — we are reminded again that strength comes through connection.

That is true in personal relationships, and it is true in the life of the church.

We are stronger together — not only as individuals supporting one another, but as congregations joined in Christ and united in shared mission.

This is what it means to be a connectional church.

Not isolated. Not self-contained. But woven together across congregations, communities, and generations as the Body of Christ.

As Annual Conference approaches, may we remember this truth:

We are not alone.

We are connected — called, gifted, and sent together in Christ.

For many people, the Apostles’ Creed is familiar—words repeated in worship, sometimes from memory, sometimes without much thought.

But what if those words are not just meant to be recited?

What if they are meant to shape a way of living?

Because the Creed moves in a direction. It begins with trust: “I believe…” Not as certainty, but as a willingness to trust what we cannot fully control or explain.

It names God as Creator—grounding identity not in achievement, but in being known and held.

It tells the story of Jesus—not just as something that happened, but as a way of recognizing that God’s presence is not distant.

And then it arrives at something that often gets less attention:

“I believe in the Holy Spirit…”

God Is Not Distant

That line matters because it pushes against a common assumption—that God, if real, is far removed from everyday life.

The Creed says something different.

God is not finished. Not confined to the past. Not absent from the present.

God is still at work.

And more than that, the Spirit is not just about individual experience. The Spirit forms a people. Not just people who believe—but people who belong.

We Are Not Meant to Live This Alone

One of the clearest threads in the New Testament is that faith is personal, but never private.

The language used is collective: we, us, together.

That matters, because fear often pushes in the opposite direction.

Fear isolates. It convinces people to withdraw, to protect themselves, to keep distance. Over time, it erodes connection.

But the Spirit creates something different. Not isolation, but belonging.

A shared identity. A shared life.

And that raises a practical question:

If that’s true, what does it actually look like?

What the Spirit Forms

There’s an early picture of this in the book of Acts.

It’s not a perfect community—but it is a real one. People gather regularly. They share meals. They pray. They learn. They care for one another in tangible ways.

Over time, something takes shape.

Not just belief—but a way of life.

The striking thing is how ordinary it looks. There’s no sense of spectacle in the day-to-day. Instead, there is consistency:

People showing up.
People sharing.
People choosing to remain connected.

And that’s where transformation happens.

Why Grace Is Essential

Any honest community eventually faces the same reality: people disappoint one another.

Without grace, that’s where things begin to fracture.

The Creed names this directly: “the forgiveness of sins…”

Not as an abstract idea, but as something necessary for real relationships to endure.

Forgiveness creates space—space to begin again, to be honest, to grow without fear that failure is final.

And alongside that, the Creed speaks of resurrection and life everlasting—not only as future hope, but as something that begins even now.

The possibility that life can emerge in places that feel worn down or unfinished.

Growth Happens Over Time

In the Wesleyan tradition, there’s a deep trust that faith is not static.

People are shaped gradually—over time—into lives marked by love.

And the tools for that transformation are surprisingly ordinary: prayer, Scripture, shared meals, acts of mercy, community.

These are sometimes called the “means of grace.”

They are not dramatic. But they are steady. And over time, they form people.

Importantly, they do not do that in isolation.

Because real growth rarely happens alone.

What This Looks Like in Daily Life

A life shaped by the Spirit doesn’t usually announce itself in dramatic ways.

More often, it shows up in small, quiet decisions:

Choosing forgiveness instead of holding onto resentment.
Choosing generosity instead of scarcity.
Choosing presence instead of withdrawal.

Moments that seem ordinary—but over time, they build something.

A community where people are known.
A community where grace is practiced.
A community where faith becomes visible.

A Life That Moves Outward

This kind of life doesn’t stay contained.

It becomes visible—not through performance, but through action.

Care for others. Attention to need. A willingness to respond.

The early church grew not because it tried to stand out, but because something genuine was taking shape within it.

And that kind of life still speaks.

From Words to Life

The Apostles’ Creed is not just a collection of statements.

It is a movement:

From trust…
To identity…
To recognizing God’s presence…
To becoming a people shaped by that presence.

It is not only something to say.

It is something to live.

Because if the Creed is true, then we are not alone. We are still being formed. And God is still at work—creating belonging, shaping community, and drawing people into a life marked by grace.

It might feel a little strange to talk about belief so soon after Easter.

Just days ago, churches were filled with celebration. The message was clear and joyful: Christ is risen. The tomb is empty. Hope is alive.

And then, almost immediately, the tone shifts.

The Gospel reading that follows Easter each year brings us to a different place—not celebration, but doubt. Thomas, one of Jesus’ disciples, hears the good news of the resurrection and responds honestly:

“Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” (John 20:25, NRSV)

It is a jarring transition. But it is also deeply honest.

Because Easter does not remove life’s questions. It meets us in them.

Faith Begins Not with Certainty, but with Trust

Christians have been wrestling with belief from the very beginning. One of the earliest summaries of Christian faith, the Apostles’ Creed, begins simply:

“I believe…”

Not “I understand everything.”
Not “I have no doubts.”

Just: I believe.

But what does that actually mean?

In everyday language, belief often sounds uncertain—like a guess or an opinion. “I believe it might rain,” or “I believe that team will win.”

Biblical faith is something deeper.

The book of Hebrews describes it this way:

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1)

Faith is not about having every answer. It is about trust—trust in a God who is present, even when life is unclear.

To say “I believe in God” is not just agreeing with an idea. It is placing trust in a relationship. It is choosing to rely on God’s presence, grace, and promise.

The Risk of Trust

Trust always involves some level of risk.

To trust is to place weight on something beyond personal control. It means stepping forward without complete certainty.

That is why belief can feel difficult.

It is easier to keep faith at a distance—as something to analyze or discuss. But when belief becomes trust, it becomes personal. It begins to shape choices, relationships, and daily life.

To say “I believe in God” is not just saying something about God—it is saying something about how one chooses to live.

It means trusting that:

• God is present, even in uncertainty (Isaiah 41:10)
• Grace is real, even when it feels undeserved (Ephesians 2:8–9)
• New life is possible, even in places that feel like endings (Romans 6:4)

A Faith That Makes Room for Doubt

This is where Thomas’ story becomes so important.

Thomas is often labeled “Doubting Thomas,” but that misses the point. He is not cynical—he is honest.

He voices what others may have felt but did not say.

And yet, he does something crucial: he stays.

He remains with the community of disciples.

A week later, Jesus appears again. And instead of rebuking Thomas, Jesus meets him in his doubt:

“Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” (John 20:27)

Thomas responds with one of the clearest declarations of faith in Scripture:

“My Lord and my God!” (John 20:28)

This moment reveals something essential:

Faith is not the absence of doubt.
It is trust that grows through encounter.

When Doubt Is Part of the Journey

Doubt is often treated as the enemy of faith. But Scripture tells a different story.

A desperate father once said to Jesus:

“I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24)

That is not failure. That is faith in motion.

Questions, uncertainty, and even struggle can be part of a growing, living faith. Trust deepens over time, shaped by experience, reflection, and encounter with God.

There is space for questions. There is room to grow.

Living by What We Cannot Yet See

Faith calls people to trust beyond what is immediately visible.

As Paul writes:

“For we walk by faith, not by sight.” (2 Corinthians 5:7)

This is not blind optimism. It is trust grounded in who God has already shown Godself to be—Creator, Redeemer, and the One who brings life out of death.

The resurrection is not just something to believe intellectually. It is something to live from.

It means hope is not empty.
It means endings are not final.
It means God is still at work—even when it cannot be seen.

Faith Is Something We Practice

In the Wesleyan tradition, faith has always been understood as more than agreement—it is trust in Christ that shapes a life.

Faith grows through grace:

• Prevenient grace: God is already at work before we respond (1 John 4:19)
• Justifying grace: trust in Christ restores relationship with God (Romans 5:1)
• Sanctifying grace: that trust continues to shape daily life (Philippians 1:6)

Faith is not a one-time statement. It is something practiced over time.

It grows through ordinary, steady rhythms:

• Prayer
• Scripture
• Worship
• Acts of love and service

These practices form a life of trust, even when certainty feels out of reach.

We Do Not Believe Alone

Although the Creed begins with “I,” faith is never meant to be lived in isolation.

Scripture reminds us:

“And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together…” (Hebrews 10:24–25)

Faith is strengthened in community.

There are seasons when belief feels strong, and seasons when it feels fragile. In those moments, the community carries faith together.

Thomas encountered Christ not on his own, but among others.

What Trust Looks Like in Everyday Life

Faith is not just something spoken—it is something lived.

It shows up in quiet, ordinary ways:

• Choosing forgiveness over resentment (Colossians 3:13)
• Practicing generosity instead of scarcity (2 Corinthians 9:6–8)
• Holding onto hope in uncertain times (Romans 15:13)

Sometimes, trust looks like continuing to show up—even with questions.

Sometimes, it looks like praying honestly.

Sometimes, it is simply taking the next faithful step.

Beginning Again with “I Believe”

In the end, belief is not about having everything figured out.

It is about relationship.

Thomas’ declaration—“My Lord and my God”—is not just a statement. It is personal. It is relational. It is trust.

And that is where faith begins for everyone.

“I believe” may be spoken with confidence.
Or with hesitation.
Or even with questions.

But it is enough.

Not because everything is certain—
but because Christ is present.

And that is where trust begins.