The Mother Church holds its General Assembly
Kate Trigger Duffert, who plans General Assemblies for the PC(USA), witnessed the Church of Scotland’s honest self-assessment
Over the past decade, I have had the opportunity to sit as a witness in the midst of difficult conversations, including conversations with colleagues and friends about the closures of churches, discussions with those called to serve who felt they must discern anew midst financial challenges, and, more recently, deep evaluations of the ecclesial function of the General Assembly and the ways in which formats serve, or do not serve, that purpose. These conversations have been filled with an abundance of deeply held emotions that can make each one feel as though the stakes are astronomical.
It was therefore with familiarity that I heard the Convener of the Board of Trustees for the Church of Scotland say during his report, “We must reckon honesty with grief. Unacknowledged grief brings stagnation. Honest grief brings renewal.”
I had the immense honor of hearing these words as a delegate to the Church of Scotland’s 2025 General Assembly. Just as the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)’s assemblies include the participation of ecumenical and interreligious voices, the Church of Scotland invites representatives from its partner churches to join in their deliberation. Due to other commitments, the Rev. Jihyun Oh, Stated Clerk of the General Assembly of the PC(USA) and the Executive Director of the Interim Unified Agency, was unable to attend; she determined an Associate Stated Clerk should attend in her place. I was deeply grateful to be selected for the role and knew that attending the assembly would provide a unique opportunity to experience how a church with similar polity and theology to the PC(USA) holds its assemblies. I anticipated an abundance of learnings related to my role as Director of General Assembly Planning, and this was proven true many times over. But what I did not expect was to see so clearly the shared realities that impact Reformed churches across the world.
During their proceedings, the church discerned ways to offset the growing challenges of professional ministry and the need to comprehensively review the role of ordination. It also established a team to look at national funding structures. In their words I heard echoes of the PC(USA) in our creation of special committees to evaluate benefits, ordination and funding models. I was able to participate in the debate during their discussion of changing assembly formats, including discernment of changing the frequency, format, length and location of future assemblies. The challenges of accessibility for all called to serve were lifted up in much the same way we have heard them in the PC(USA). There were concerns about the impact of the length of the assembly on ruling elders and disabled persons. There were hopes for a format that centered discernment from the whole of the church rather than staying rooted in what has always been. Amidst the discussion was the pervasive reality that the fiscal support of the church at every level is waning and that it is responsible stewardship to take this into account.
It was during these discussions that the Board of Trustees shared their words about honest grief. Similar refrains permeated each conversation of the assembly. Shared meals with other ecumenical delegates seemed to be filled with the refrain of “we are experiencing that, too.” While there were certainly particularities to the different expressions of church and not all churches felt all sentiments were true for their context, it was clear that in much of what has been deemed “the Western world,” the experience of Reformed churches is more alike than not.
At the same time I experienced this sense of global community, I followed ongoing online discussions about the future of the PC(USA) amidst declining numbers. But where the Church of Scotland was preaching a reckoning of honest grief, the online discussion seemed more rooted in an unacknowledged grief that results in stagnation. The very real and valid grief of a changing church was not named; instead, blame was placed on possible root causes. Some blamed specific leaders. Others blamed changes in worship style, policies established by past assemblies, and any number of other causes that may have individual impacts on attendance, but do not reflect the comprehensive and complex picture of where the church is today. As I watched colleagues in ministry from Southern Africa, England and the Middle East agree on the challenges of diminished numbers and financial hardship, I could not believe that placing the blame on any one event or person within the PC(USA) was productive nor accurate. The unacknowledged grief that leaves us scrounging for an answer too often tells us that if things hadn’t changed, then nothing bad would have happened. The unacknowledged grief creates a narrative that stagnation is safety. But unacknowledged grief does not go away on its own. Nor does it have any responsibility to portray things accurately. It is honest grief that wrestles apart and untangles the webs of pain to discern not who caused this harm, but how might we authentically live as church in the midst of the uncertainty.
Many congregations and mid councils have reflected on what it means to be in a liminal space. This is present, too, in the Interim Unified Agency which, as is evident by its name, has been swimming in the unknown since 2022 and is only now beginning to see some glimmers of land in the distance. These liminal spaces describe the time between letting go of what was and living in what will be. Liminal spaces are fertile ground for grief and even more fertile ground for looking back to see what familiar, comfortable thing may give us a seeming solution to that pain. What unacknowledged grief fails to realize is that what was is no longer there to return to, even if we wanted to. I wonder if we too often equate acceptance of liminality as a total release of control, an embrace of doing nothing because, in the words of Samuel Beckett, there’s “nothing to be done.” But liminality is not a time of nothingness; it’s a time between. A place where the same ground that generates seeds of grief can generate seeds of creativity and prophetic vision. A time and place where God might be speaking to us in a way we couldn’t hear before because there were simply too many things we already knew. Maybe liminality isn’t floating in a sea of unknowns; it’s Elijah naming his despair and waiting to hear God’s voice in the sheer silence.
The Church of Scotland’s embrace of liminality has been positively productive. Shortly after the report which stated a necessity to be honest about grieving what is left behind, leaders shared their Vivid Vision.
This effort is the Church of Scotland’s answer to the challenges of liminality. In the Vivid Vision video (say that three times fast), the church centers itself in its identity in Christ and as a Reformed witness in Scotland. The Vivid Vision reflects a desire to be united in mission and ministries that’s rooted in shared identity. In some ways, it sounds simple: The church should know what it believes, why, and from/for whom. But this simplicity reflects the stories I’ve heard of churches and worshiping communities that are growing, some in number and others in impact. These communities are unashamedly claiming who they are and living it out in their communities. They are less concerned with what went wrong before and more concerned with what lessons will serve where they’re going next. In the words of one member of the Church of Scotland, “It’s time to stop managing decline and start imagining our witness.”
As I returned from the assembly, my imagination ran wild. I considered what elements of assembly functions we might bring back into our own assembly operations. There were discussions that were held in ways that serve as brilliant examples for how we might have similar discussions, and there were some processes which would never fit in our different ecclesial culture. But the question that continued to ring in my ears was:
What might God imagine with people who claim a Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) identity for the future of the church if only we had the courage to name our grief for what was and open ourselves to what we don’t yet know?
It’s certainly not an easy invitation and the outcomes aren’t promised to be instantaneously pleasant. But perhaps the greatest reminder of gathering in that ecumenical space in Scotland was that we don’t have to go it alone. In our many contexts, from discussions between members during coffee hour to assembly debates, there will be many opportunities for us to be honest about our grief, to root ourselves in who we are, and to listen for what we might be. May we do so with grace for all of God’s Creation and with the knowledge that we are joined in the journey with our ecumenical partners across the world.
Ruling Elder Kate Trigger Duffert is Director of General Assembly Planning and an Associate Stated Clerk.
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