Just Keep Showing Up: Notes on a Lodge Revival
"It doesn't matter what you want from masonry or what you think about it, JUST keep showing up and you'll get exactly what you need." - Worshipful Brother Dave Whyte
"It doesn't matter what you want from masonry or what you think about it, JUST keep showing up and you'll get exactly what you need." - Worshipful Brother Dave Whyte
I joined Freemasonry expecting to find an organization that creates great men. What I discovered instead changed everything I thought I knew about transformation, tradition, and the power of local brotherhood.
The Men Who Drew Me In
I came to Masonry because the men I admired most were nearly all affiliated with Freemasonry. These were men I looked up to, respected for how they conducted themselves. That pattern led me to seek membership.
I created my own belief that the organization itself created these men. In my mind, I built a framework of what characteristics an organization would need to create such men. Then, without any real knowledge, I applied those standards to Masonry and expected it to meet them.
What I discovered was different. It wasn't the framework, structure, or even teachings of Masonry that made these men who they were.
It was the quality of these men that made Masonry better.
The Secretary's Confession
I need to admit something. As lodge secretary, I was supposed to be supporting our Worshipful Master. Instead, our conversations became echo chambers of frustration. He'd share his disappointment, I'd amplify it with mine. We were drowning together, each pulling the other down.
More than once, I sat in my car outside lodge, keys still in the ignition, wondering why I should go in. The bureaucracy felt too heavy. The resistance to change too strong. The gap between what Masonry could be and what it was felt insurmountable.
But Dave Whyte's words kept me walking through those doors. Just keep showing up. Not because it was fulfilling. Not because I saw progress. But because somewhere between duty and habit, I suspected he might be right.
What Military Service Taught Me About Drowning
My time in uniform wasn't as combat-focused as others', but it taught me about teams. I learned from exceptional leaders and terrible ones. I saw how organizations thrive and how they decay.
When someone's drowning, they thrash for a life preserver. But we learned in the service that panic is the enemy. Take a breath. Relax. You'll float. Hell, we even learned to turn our pants into flotation devices. The point: you usually have what you need to survive. You just can't see it while you're panicking.
Masonry has been drowning for decades. We built infrastructure for 4 million members. Now we have 1 million. The bureaucracy remains, oversized and underloved, focused on survival rather than purpose. We wring our hands about membership while forgetting why anyone would want to join.
But Masonry has always had everything it needs to save itself. We just forget to breathe.
The Real Power of Masonry
We say we take good men and make them better. That every brother who walks through the door as a humble seeker can find tools, fellowship, and lessons for self-growth. That's the tactical stuff. The ritual work. The degrees.
But the real power? It's in a collection of moral men with exceptionally diverse backgrounds meeting as equals. Meeting on the level. It's in the fact that the world's oldest fraternity is based on the same Enlightenment ideals that informed America's founders: rebellion against tyranny, encouragement of free thought, exploration of ideas from every viewpoint.
This isn't a social club with a liquor license. It's not just another fraternal organization. It's the living embodiment of an idea: that good men, meeting together regularly, can create something larger than themselves.
Masonry Happens Here, Now
Through my journey, I've realized Masonry isn't made better by programs from Grand Lodge. It isn't governed by brothers wearing fancy aprons in far-off cities. Those brothers are doing their best, and I support them.
But Masonry happens in your own lodge, in your own community, at the smallest level possible. Every Tuesday. Or whenever you meet.
What Masonry needs is for each brother to take inventory of what they truly want from the Craft. Brotherhood? Fellowship? What we really want is significance and belonging. We can absolutely provide that for ourselves.
The only way to attract new members is to make the lodge we want to join. To create the lodge that lives up to our highest expectations, then enjoy it. Only by radiating that joy, peace, and presence will others notice and want what we've got.
The Turn at Bethel Lodge #358
Every Worshipful Master comes to the East with ideals and expectations. More often than not, they're slowed by "Masonic time," their excitement dampened by the way things have always been.
My friend Trey, our current Worshipful Master, had big ideas. When I saw his enthusiasm fading and felt his frustration with the pace of change, I realized we were at a crossroads. We could keep drowning together, or we could remember how to breathe.
There wasn't a dramatic moment. No inspiring speech. Just a series of small decisions to stop waiting for Masonry to save itself and start creating the lodge we actually wanted to attend.
We're not there yet. We don't even know where "there" is. But something has shifted in Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan.
The parking lot fills earlier now. You can hear laughter from the dining room before you open the door. Last Tuesday, we brewed three pots of coffee because brothers were so deep in conversation its often only one or two, nobody wanted to leave.
What's Actually Emerging
Real Masonic Education: Six months ago, our education was a brother reading something while interesting and informative, we all still checked our phones. Last week, we had a real conversation on symbolism for 30 minutes past when we’d normally be closing. Nobody complained.
Living History: We're digging through 140 years of minutes for our 150th anniversary. Our predecessors donated the land for downtown, built the town library. We're not just an old club. We're the men who built this town, and we're remembering what that means.
Creating Sacred Space: We're developing an outdoor degree site near Tahquamenon Falls. Imagine receiving your Master Mason degree surrounded by Michigan's natural cathedral under canopy of a starry-decked heaven.
Visible Service: Brothers are adopting a highway stretch. Not because we have to, but because we want our community to see Masons working. We're restoring the square and compasses to the town's welcome sign. We marched in the parade for the first time in years.
Meeting Families Where They Are: Our "Bikes for Books" program suddenly has more schools than we can handle. Kids ask about "the place where Dad goes on Tuesdays." We're sponsoring hockey dasher boards, starting a veterans' group, launching real social media.
The Hard Conversations: We're tackling dues and finances. Not from fear, but from vision. It's uncomfortable. It's necessary. It's happening.
The Unfinished Truth
This isn't a success story. It's a revival in progress, messy and uncertain.
I still have nights where I wonder if we're fooling ourselves. Where the distance between what Masonry could be and what it is feels insurmountable. Where I'm tempted to announce my resignation and let someone else put in the hours and energy.
But I don't. Because Dave Whyte was right about something I'm only beginning to understand.
He didn't say you'd get what you want. He said you'd get what you need.
What I wanted was a perfect organization. What I needed was to learn that organizations aren't perfect or imperfect. They're just collections of people showing up. Or not.
What I wanted was rapid transformation. What I needed was to understand that real change happens in conversations over coffee, in brothers saying "I'll help with that," in showing up when you don't feel like it.
What I wanted was to save Freemasonry. What I needed was to realize it doesn't need saving. It needs brothers creating lodges worth attending, one Tuesday at a time.
For My Brothers Still Sitting in the Parking Lot
If you're reading this from a place of frustration with your lodge, I get it. If you've fed someone else's negativity while they fed yours, I've been there. If you're wondering why you keep showing up, that's actually a good sign. It means you still care.
Here's what I've learned: You can't fix Freemasonry. You can't fix your Grand Lodge. You might not even be able to fix your lodge. But you can start showing up differently. You can ask better questions. You can find one other brother who wants something more and start there.
We're not swimming yet at Bethel Lodge. Some nights we're barely floating. But we're not drowning anymore, and that's progress.
The brothers who donated land for our downtown didn't do it because Grand Lodge told them to. The ones who built our library didn't wait for the perfect program. They just saw what their community needed and acted. That's still who we are, underneath the rust and routine.
Every Tuesday, I drive to lodge. Not to attend Freemasonry, but to create it. With brothers who've decided that waiting for someone else to fix things is just another form of drowning.
The work isn't finished. It might never be. But it's real, it's happening, and it started with brothers who just kept showing up until they figured out what they needed.
Not what they wanted. What they needed.
Dave Whyte passed before he could see what's emerging at Bethel Lodge. But he saw it coming. He knew what happens when men stop trying to save an institution and start building a brotherhood. When they stop drowning in what was and start creating what could be.
One Tuesday at a time.
Just keep showing up.