Oh Village, what a journey this has been.    

The fullness of our journey together makes the news I share now both bitter and sweet. Yesterday I worshipped with the congregation of the First Presbyterian Church in Hayward, CA, and accepted their invitation to become their next Senior Pastor.

This news feels a bit bitter, as you have been my home for these past 7 years and 4 months, and that is not an easy thing to leave. And it feels sweet, as it’s apparent to me that I would not be equipped to go and do this new thing without all that you have taught me, and the space you have given me to grow and change in my own faith and call to ministry.

If you’d remember with me…

I arrived to begin ministry with you on January 2 of 2016, at the airport with young adults I had never met, on our way to the Montreat College Conference. I found out just the day before that my mom’s breast cancer had returned, and spent that conference in the hard and holy space of grief and joy. I was cared for by young adults I was meant to be caring for, and returned from that week certain that Village was all that I had hoped you to be.

I spent that first year searching for the young adults I had been charged to do ministry with, and found a few over beer and Bonhoeffer. Because of the Spirit alone, those brave people who knew nothing of Village and only some about Jesus chose to journey with me as we sought to create community for young adults here.

It was also in that year that you changed everything I thought I knew about worship. I arrived professing that I loved hymns and organs and the movement of traditional liturgy. I had heard about the Gathering, but wasn’t interested. But then in a full showing of the Spirit’s humor, I rotated into leading the Gathering, and never left.

The voices of Becky and Nathan Bliss shattered any notion I had about what music was considered sacred. Brad Hull taught me the “light” was more than a theological concept. The Rev. Len Carrell showed me that the movement of fabric was just as important as the movement of liturgy. And the faithful folks who had long been worshipping with the Gathering in previous forms leaned into my vision of moving the service to 5 p.m., as together we created what now exists. The Gathering quickly became both part of my job description, and my own worshipping home.

By the end of that first year together, we were praying for a place called Stanley. I was asked to drive 30 minutes south, and begin the congregation that would become Village on Antioch. I spent that second year with you doing that drive again and again, finding the time I hadn’t known I would need as I processed the grief of my mom’s recent death. I led Stanley’s session in their final meetings, and celebrated in worship as we witnessed the birth of Village on Antioch. The now Rev. Molly Ramsey taught me about the endurance of baptismal promises, as she led with me in the church that had baptized her as an infant, before answering her own call to pastoral ministry. The brilliant Ryan Main showed me that the Spirit shows up when people sing with all their hearts. I worked far too hard and too long that year, which the broken parts of my heart needed. And I was incredibly aware of the presence of the Spirit that year, which all of us needed.

Handing over Village on Antioch to the Rev. Dr. Brandon Frick allowed me to return full time to the Gathering and Young Adult Ministry. Both of these ministries grew in the years that followed, and I did too. I learned more than I taught to young adults, as they continued to show up with vulnerability and honest questions of spiritual searching the Church hasn’t always made space for. Together we explored the city, learned to practice our spirituality, and shaped a community that has endured much life together. Eventually we made space for this community in a literal way, building the young adult room that now   exists under the welcome center. This community has taught me more about what it means to be “church” than I realized I needed to know.

The questions and thoughtfulness of our young adults are what eventually drove me to begin a Doctorate in Ministry, that I’m still in the midst of pursuing. A global pandemic, a summer of antiracism protest, and eventually giving birth to our son changed me yet again, and focused my study on constructing a theology of motherhood.

All along the way, we created some beautiful things. I stayed up all night with the Rev. Jenny McDevitt as we painted giant silks that would clothe our sanctuary in rainbow as we grieved the Pulse Nightclub shooting. With the Gathering we hung boxes around our ceiling, opening them as we acknowledged that God is bigger than any boxes we create. And when we couldn’t worship together on Christmas Eve, we created a sixteen foot star to shine on Mission Rd., in defiance of all attempting to steal our joy that year.

In the midst of these recent post/continuing pandemic years, I’ve found myself with a restlessness that is always and only a sign that the Spirit is up to something. It’s been here, after these years of learning with and through you, that I found myself in conversation with this 130 year-old congregation in Hayward, CA. They are a small congregation, with a large staff, doing more work than should be possible. A missional hub in their community, they operate two homeless shelters, two food pantries, an early childhood education center, a one-screen theater where their New Worshipping Community of artists perform, and they spent their covid years constructing tiny homes in their parking lot to help persons experiencing homelessness transition into being housed. They are a diverse congregation in every way, worshipping in English and Spanish, with those leading Silicon Valley ventures and those recovering from homelessness and addiction. It was clear to me when I visited that they are a place and a people that could only be who they are by having the audacity to say “yes” to the Spirit, again and again. Their “yes” was contagious, and while I am humbled and terrified, it’s clear to me that the Spirit wants this to be, as deeply as She did when I first joined you.

And so, in the bitter sweetness of attempting to remain faithful to this call of ministry, it seems I have reached the end of my journey with you, Village. The gratitude I feel for you is more than I have the words to express. I have lived big years of my life with you, and you will always feel something like my home. My last Sunday in worship with you will be May 21. I’ll finish the month of May, working to transition my work to others. Nick, Charlie, and I will spend the month of June moving our lives to California, where I’ll begin my new role on July 1. I covet your prayers for us as we make this journey, and for the people of First Presbyterian Church as they prepare to receive us.

Village, thank you. I’ll have more to say on my gratitude. For now, know my love for you abounds. I look forward to opportunities to celebrate all that God has done with us together in the weeks ahead.

All my love,

Rev. Hallie Hottle