A young member writes to the congregation of the future
Shreya Jain
President, MYF • Member, RTMC since 2006
To the Congregation of 2075,
I don’t know if you’ll read this on paper, on a screen, or projected into your retina by some device we can’t imagine yet.
But I hope RTMC still feels like the home I grew up in — the spiritual foundation I learnt to build my life on.
I. WHO WE ARE IN 2026
Here is the truth about my generation, the now: we know what faith means — the words, the definition.
What we haven’t figured out is how to stay patient in it.
Give us the chance, and we might just show you a different way of holding faith through our own struggles.
We argue a lot — tradition versus modern — without noticing we’ll probably do the same thing our parents did.
What we call “modern” today will be tradition for our kids.
But these arguments are what we thrive on.
Questioning is how we understand what we believe, and what everyone else believes too.
We’re anxious about jobs that might not exist in five years, relationships negotiated over chat before anyone speaks out loud, a city that keeps growing while we feel more alone in it.
We need a faith that holds all of that — not one that just wants us quiet, singing the right songs, never asking why.
“We didn’t come for easy answers. We came because somewhere underneath the noise, we suspect grace is real — talk to that suspicion, don’t talk around it.”
— Shreya Jain
II. OUR HONEST ASK
Why does “youth ministry” feel like an entrance exam before real membership?
We only get remembered when someone needs extra hands — decorations, that one corner nobody else cleans.
You call us young and energetic, then invite us only for “youth events,” and seem surprised turnout is low.
Let Us Ask. Let Us Try. Let Us Grow.
Let us ask questions nobody has asked before.
Let us debate without anyone getting offended.
We’re not trying to burn tradition down — just poke at it enough to understand it, and help it grow.
Let us preach sometimes, with guidance.
When we mess up — a missed protocol, a botched finance report — stick with us anyway.
Give us constructive feedback, not “I-told-you-so.”
Faith that never decides never really grows.
My generation is out here shredding guitar, drums, piano — worshipping God in genres you didn’t know could worship.
But mostly we do it with earphones in, alone in our rooms, because in church it counts as “noise.”
We just want to share the joy.
III. WHAT I HOPE YOU’VE FIGURED OUT
🎵 On Music and Message
I hope by 2075 you’ve figured out that ministry doesn’t need a fixed format.
Not every worship session needs a sermon.
Not every sermon needs a verse-quoting marathon.
Sometimes it’s one chord landing just right.
Sometimes it’s:
“I don’t know the verses by heart, but I’ll sit here with you.”
What matters isn’t the format — it’s whether the music tells the truth.
🕊️ How to Disagree Without Splitting
How to hold people who believe wildly different things about how to live, and still call each other family.
How to be a church that is genuinely safe for anyone it has hurt before.
I hope you’ve made peace with mystery instead of demanding certainty on things never meant to be certain.
💛 When Good Intentions Bruise People
We believe everything we do is for the community’s good.
But somewhere between pride, ego, and worldly wisdom, the line blurs — and we bruise the people we’re trying to grow with.
I hope by 2075 you’ve mastered “agree to disagree” without disagreeing your way out of the family.
Turns out patience and kindness were the whole assignment.
IV. WHAT I AM SURE OF
The people of RTMC — imperfect, gossiping, generous, showing up for each other in person or in prayer — have always been doing something real.
Love doesn’t age out, and it never has.
I’m living proof.
What I’m not sure of: whether the institution keeps up with the instinct — whether by 2075 you’re still arguing about the same small things, or you’ve grown past them into something braver.
✨ A Hope for 2075
“I hope you’re bigger than us, kinder than us, laughing a little at how uptight we were — the same way I laugh at old church photos, their questionable haircuts and sacred seating charts nobody was allowed to question.”
Perhaps that is what this letter is really asking for:
Keep the love.
Keep the questions.
Keep showing up.
Lose the fear.
✞ KEEP SHOWING UP. LOSE THE FEAR.
In faith,
Shreya Jain
President, MYF • Member, RTMC since 2006 • Writing in 2026
