Last week I had the joy of spending time with the leaders of the congregationally led churches of the Pacific Northwest Mennonite Conference. I’m still carrying the warmth of that gathering—the thoughtful questions, the deep listening, and the palpable love for local communities of faith and practice. I’m grateful to Eric Massanari for the generous invitation, and to every leader who showed up with courage, complexity, and hope.
In a moment when our world feels increasingly chaotic—what some are calling a metacrisis—it is tempting to fixate on the systems that are unraveling. But as Margaret Wheatley reminds us through the Two Loops model, decline is only half the story. Even as large systems fracture under their own weight, new possibilities are quietly emerging. And those possibilities often take root in small, relational communities capable of holding complexity, cultivating trust, and embodying alternatives.
This is precisely why congregationally led churches matter so deeply right now.
At their best, these communities are profoundly local—attentive to the particularities of place, history, and neighbor. They are communal rather than corporate, trusting that discernment arises not from hierarchy but from the shared wisdom of the gathered. And they form people not through technique or performance but through practices of presence, scripture, prayer, mutual care, and costly love.
These are the kinds of spaces Wheatley describes as “islands of sanity”—places where people commit to human dignity, where relationships are tended with intention, and where the Way of Jesus becomes a lived, embodied alternative to the acceleration, anxiety, and fragmentation of our age.
During my time with PNMC leaders, I witnessed signs of these islands everywhere:
- Communities discerning faithfully amid cultural uncertainty
- Leaders and groups cultivating trust in the midst of polarization
- Congregations tending to the slow work of formation rather than the quick rewards of relevance
- Leaders asking not “How do we grow?” but “How do we deepen?” “How do we become love?”
- A shared desire to participate in God’s healing work in ways that honor place, history, and neighborliness
These commitments may seem small in a world obsessed with scale, but they are precisely the commitments that can sustain a life of faith and anchor a hopeful future.
What struck me most was the quiet courage of these leaders—courage to remain rooted, to keep showing up, and to continue weaving communities of belonging in a time when belonging is increasingly hard to find.
So to Eric, and to each leader I met: thank you. Thank you for your ministry, your questions, your presence, and your faithfulness. Thank you for creating and sustaining islands of sanity where the Spirit can breathe and where the Way of Jesus remains vibrant and alive.
May your communities continue to be places where people taste shalom, where love is practiced in real time, and where new possibilities for life together can grow—small, faithful, and full of hope.
Peace, dwight
