what does it even mean for the gospel to "perform well"?: A Reflection We neeD

We’ve just wrapped up the second in-person Caffeinated Church conference, at the beautiful All Saints’ Episcopal Church in Atlanta, Georgia. Designed to be an educational, restorative space for church communicators and administrators, the three days gave us much to chew on. Mid-conference, our conference chaplain shared a reflection that many attendees immediately told us was deeply moving, resonant, and needed. With the Rev. Jennifer Shimota’s permission, we are sharing the manuscript of that reflection.

Hi, I'm Jennifer, and I have beautiful feet. 

No. This is not about Only Fans.

But we are talking about our feet, because it's time to remember who we are...and of course, + whose we are.

I suspect you know I'm alluding to the line in the book of Romans — that Paul borrows from Isaiah. I've heard it mentioned here more than once in the last 24 hours. Paul is writing about the spread of the gospel, about how the good news travels from person to person, from place to place. He says: "How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news."

Now, Paul was thinking about messengers. Heralds. People in the ancient world who would travel dusty roads on foot, carrying a message from the king into the towns and villages that hadn't yet heard it. They didn't have printing presses. They didn't have the internet. They had sandals and stamina and a message worth carrying.

Those feet were beautiful — not because they were elegant, but because of where they had been and what they were carrying.

You are those people.

Your feet look a little different, of course. You carry the gospel not just down dusty roads but through fiber optic cables. 

Through Instagram reels and e-newsletters with lots of links you hope aren’t broken before people click on them, through Sunday bulletins, livestream graphics, podcast episodes that someone listens to alone in their car at 6:00 a.m., not sure they believe any of it yet — but still listening.

You are a herald. You are — a proclaimer, an official messenger, someone entrusted with the king's announcement. You have simply traded the town square for the internet. The vocation is the same.

I know this work doesn't always feel that sacred. I’ve been listening to you in these workshops, and I heard Easton name it yesterday.

Rather than sacred, I know sometimes it feels like chasing down a pastor for copy that was due three days ago. Or defending your font or color choice to a committee. Or trying to explain to someone why the church Facebook page needs more than a blurry photo of last Sunday's potluck.

I know the metrics can feel hollow — what does it even mean for the gospel to "perform well"? I know the budget is usually too small, the timeline is usually too short, and the approval process is usually too long.

So, I came here today to say this to you and your beautiful feet: You are not "just” anything. You are “just a communications professional." You are a gospel bringer. You are a herald of the Good News of God's love.

Every word you write with care is a step toward someone who needs good news. Every image you craft, every story you tell, every moment you help a church speak clearly about the hope they carry — that is sacred work. You may never meet the person who reads that post at midnight and decides not to give up. You may never know who watched that Christmas Eve service on their laptop because they couldn't bring themselves to walk into the building yet. But they're out there. And your work is part of how the message reaches them.

The gospel hasn't changed. It is still the best news the world has ever heard. Only the road on which it travels has changed. And you — you are building that road.

So before you go back into workshops, before the next small group discussion, the next conversation, the next thing on your to-do list — please let me speak a blessing over you.

Receive this blessing...

May your words, 
and your images, 
and your sermon clips 
find the people who need them most.

May your creativity be a gift and not a burden.

May the work of your hands 
and your keyboards 
and your cameras 
and your screens
carry hope further than you can see.

And may you never forget what you are carrying.

Also, those feet of yours?! Gorgeous!

In the name of the Father, Son +, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

— The Rev. Jennifer Shimota

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