From the cross in John 19:30, Jesus speaks a final word, "Tetelestai." In the passive voice, the verb signals perfection: "It has been completed, . . . accomplished, . . . fulfilled, . . . finished." This passive verb also suggests to me that such completion rests not with Jesus himself but with that One who acts through and beyond his words and deeds. The word reveals a deep and abiding trust. Jesus dies, surrenders his spirit, in the assurance that he is one with the Father and that his relationship is made complete. He has accomplished what he was sent to do. It is finished.
The news of the ending of my ministry in the New Hampshire Conference of the United Church of Christ has now been widely shared. I am receiving expressions of appreciation in emails, cards, and spoken words. Yesterday, following worship at the Conway Village Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, there was a special gift, cards from the Moderator and Diaconate, and a cake. Coffee hour became a farewell celebration. I am deeply grateful for the people whose lives have been affirmed and supported by this ministry. I am also grateful for those who have challenged me to grow and become a more faithful servant of the Gospel. I appreciate the voices that have spoken the truth to me in love. Endings are not easy. They are complicated and messy. The memory of one's ministry is not controlled by the one who is leaving. I look to Jesus on the cross, not as a model for my own ending, but rather as my Savior who is able, finally, to bring it all to completion in the sweep of God's eternity.
I have been reflecting recently on a phrase that comes from the Rev. Lillian Daniel in an essay that she wrote about being an associate pastor. It is in the book, This Odd and Wondrous Calling, that she authored with the Rev. Martin Copenhaver. The phrase is this: "The burden of eternal incompletion." I know that burden well! It is a heavy one because it says that this ending will not be perfect. No matter how much I might want it to be otherwise, I cannot control it. Something will, of necessity, be left undone. Relationships will change and end. This ending will have some rough edges, good-byes left unspoken, and projects left in pieces. It will never be complete, but I will move on in the assurance that the burden is not mine alone to carry. The goodbye belongs to us all. It is part of the reality that comes with our mortality.
I trust in Jesus, my faithful Savior, to shoulder this burden and release me from its weight. I trust that others will come who will sort out what is really important and what must be discarded. The time that remains is short. What is most important now is saying goodbye in order to prepare to say hello in a new ministry with joy and wonder. And, in the end, it will all be well because this is not about me or us, but about the God who has claimed and named us all as beloved ones. In the end, it's all about grace, mercy, and love. In the end, as is true of every ending, there is the blessed hope of a resurrection; there is gratitude; and there is great joy.
Eternal God, I give you thanks for your Church and for this ministry that I have shared with your people in the New Hampshire Conference, United Church of Christ. Your call was clear when I began. Your call is clear as I end. I entrust this ending and the future into your hands. Amen.
The news of the ending of my ministry in the New Hampshire Conference of the United Church of Christ has now been widely shared. I am receiving expressions of appreciation in emails, cards, and spoken words. Yesterday, following worship at the Conway Village Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, there was a special gift, cards from the Moderator and Diaconate, and a cake. Coffee hour became a farewell celebration. I am deeply grateful for the people whose lives have been affirmed and supported by this ministry. I am also grateful for those who have challenged me to grow and become a more faithful servant of the Gospel. I appreciate the voices that have spoken the truth to me in love. Endings are not easy. They are complicated and messy. The memory of one's ministry is not controlled by the one who is leaving. I look to Jesus on the cross, not as a model for my own ending, but rather as my Savior who is able, finally, to bring it all to completion in the sweep of God's eternity.
I have been reflecting recently on a phrase that comes from the Rev. Lillian Daniel in an essay that she wrote about being an associate pastor. It is in the book, This Odd and Wondrous Calling, that she authored with the Rev. Martin Copenhaver. The phrase is this: "The burden of eternal incompletion." I know that burden well! It is a heavy one because it says that this ending will not be perfect. No matter how much I might want it to be otherwise, I cannot control it. Something will, of necessity, be left undone. Relationships will change and end. This ending will have some rough edges, good-byes left unspoken, and projects left in pieces. It will never be complete, but I will move on in the assurance that the burden is not mine alone to carry. The goodbye belongs to us all. It is part of the reality that comes with our mortality.
I trust in Jesus, my faithful Savior, to shoulder this burden and release me from its weight. I trust that others will come who will sort out what is really important and what must be discarded. The time that remains is short. What is most important now is saying goodbye in order to prepare to say hello in a new ministry with joy and wonder. And, in the end, it will all be well because this is not about me or us, but about the God who has claimed and named us all as beloved ones. In the end, it's all about grace, mercy, and love. In the end, as is true of every ending, there is the blessed hope of a resurrection; there is gratitude; and there is great joy.
Eternal God, I give you thanks for your Church and for this ministry that I have shared with your people in the New Hampshire Conference, United Church of Christ. Your call was clear when I began. Your call is clear as I end. I entrust this ending and the future into your hands. Amen.
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