There is an expression I often see on Instagram. It’s attached to viral videos.
A grandmother lighting a dessert soaked in highly flammable liquid.
A man adding layer upon layer of tape to his face.
Two women making soup with water they soaked their feet in. The internet is a wild place, fed by the shockingly absurd.
The same words in every comment section: “I built this algorithm brick by brick.”
Justin Cox
I’m not sure how algorithms work. Watch a silly cat video, and you’re prompted with not only more silly cat videos, but silly hamster videos. The goal is to get you to tap and view.
I can’t remember what it was that I “hearted,” but whatever it was, it led me to Haley Popp and her Flower Mound, Texas, Hive Bakery.
If the name sounds familiar, you might have an addiction to The Food Network. Popp has appeared on several shows in recent years, including Halloween Wars and The Big Bake. Her culinary talents have gained attention not only for their design but for what they say. Heart-shaped cookies with icing spelling out “Pro-Choice.” Rainbow cookies displaying a big bold PRIDE etched in the middle. She’s even produced treats in support of Washington National Cathedral’s Mariann Budde after the bishop called on Donald Trump to show mercy to minority groups. She and her staff have made batch after batch of “F*CK ICE” cookies.
A large number of folks enjoy what Popp does. Not surprisingly, some don’t.
Her biggest critics wear red hats. The MAGA fanbase and groups like Libs of TikTok blast her efforts on their platforms. Many call her bakery and harass her over the phone. She hasn’t backed down, calling out the hypocrisy of MAGA even in her own family. In 2022, Popp and her brother Chad Kultgen started “The Necessary Conversation” podcast. For four years, the two have gone toe-to-toe with their far-right-leaning parents on their political differences.
Her following has gradually grown over the years. However, on July 3, a post in response to the 250th Anniversary of the United States caught national attention. Popp wrote on Facebook: “We expressed not wanting to celebrate the 4th this year, as we’re embarrassed, afraid, and disappointed in what this country has become.”
“She believes in the young people of the world, but she shouldn’t be lumped in with them.”
Over the holiday weekend, Hive Bakery would offer an upside-down American flag treat with the words “Under Distress.” Again, lines were out the door.
Media coverage of Popp’s words was everywhere, including Fox News. All the attention brought new followers.
Popp has spent the last couple of weeks welcoming her new followers, explaining who she is and why she does what she does.
Her July 30 Facebook post caught my attention: “A few people on the internet have referred to me as a naive younger person. That ‘my generation’ is doomed. That I can’t possibly know what I’m talking about because I haven’t lived enough life. Guys, I’m 45. Basically 50.
I’ve graduated from college. Been a stay-at-home mom for a decade and raised three kids who are now young adults. I’ve opened a business that’s been successful and thriving for almost a decade. I’ve been married for 23 years. I’ve traveled the f$cking world. I’m the oldest of the Millennial generation.”
She goes on to share that she believes in the young people of the world, but she shouldn’t be lumped in with them.
I know the feeling.
Like Popp, I too am 45 years old. I am constantly reminding older generations that while I might be younger than most of the people who frequent a church on Sunday morning, I am not a “youth.”
I am a middle-aged adult who graduated from college and didn’t know how to stop. I kept going, earning master’s and doctorate degrees. I’ve been ordained in two denominations, served five churches in three states as an associate and lead pastor. I’ve written about faith for national publications. I got married and am helping raise two incredible kids. I’ve baptized people I loved. I’ve buried people I barely knew. I’ve helped lead a church through a pandemic without giving up. I’ve learned how to start over more than once. I’ve learned the hard way the difference between accomplishment and fulfillment.
There are some things I know little of, and I am quick to admit such shortcomings.
But when it comes to church work, steeple work, I know more than most.
“Eventually, folks have to start saying yes to trying something different.”
I wish more mature saints saw that in me. I wish they trusted me and others like me.
Not because we need affirmation. Lord knows, at 45, I’ve long since come to grips with not building my identity on the approval of a church committee. Not because I need it, but because the church needs it. Every faith community hoping to have a future has to let someone help them see what they cannot yet see for themselves.
Eventually, folks have to start saying yes to trying something different. They have to come to terms with trusting someone.
I believe some of this is happening at my current church.
Since the start of the summer, we’ve been trying a few things that don’t fit the usual Sunday morning script. We’ve left our sanctuary for a more intimate space where several empty pew rows aren’t separating us from our neighbors. Conversation has replaced a one-sided sermon. People are showing up to an ecumenical dinner church movement we’re hosting with other congregations. We’re asking people to meet us at bars and wine shops, where we have to constantly pull up more chairs and tables to fit everyone. People just keep showing up. Some of them are new.
I can’t explain every reason why this is happening, and I don’t think I need to burden myself with trying to figure it out. I’ve never been a person concerned with having all the answers.
“None of it would have happened if I had waited until everyone was convinced it would work.”
But the one thing I do know is this: None of it would have happened if I had waited until everyone was convinced it would work.
In the last couple of years, I spent a good amount of time learning what happens in middle age. The pain in my back lingers longer than it used to. Doctors talk about my cholesterol numbers more. The weeks go by as fast as the Millennium Falcon. My children are growing up overnight.
And my faith is continuing to change. I’m learning it has less to do with preservation and more to do with trusting the people who have spent their lives preparing for a season that has finally arrived.
Every other middle-aged clergyperson and I are ready.
We are here to remind you that while we appreciate the church we were given, we are not here to keep it the way it is.
You taught us how to love the church. Now trust us enough to help lead it.
Justin Cox received his theological education from Campbell University and Wake Forest University School of Divinity and McAfee School of Theology, where he received his doctor of ministry. He is an ordained minister holding standing in the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship and American Baptist Churches USA. When not spending time with his spouse and daughters, he can be found writing and baking late into the night. His thoughts and reflections are his own.