Pardon Me

The past month has been lived at a hyper pace.  I have had so much that I wanted to accomplish before I left for an extended period of sabbath time.  I have cleaned away papers that were lingering on my desk.  I have made provision for shutting down  my office email and transferring those ministry projects that were exclusively mine.  I have been sharing the load that has accumulated since I began this ministry in August 2006.  So much has happened, and so much remains undone as I depart for a season of rest and renewal.

I am reminded of a familiar prayer of confession from the Book of Common prayer:

Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We are truly sorry and we humbly repent, for the sake of your Son Jesus Christ, have mercy on us and forgive us; that we may delight in your will, and walk in your ways, to the glory of your Name. Amen.   

The truth is that this prayer feels deeply personal today.  In every ending, there have been things left undone.  When I left my job at the university library in Kirksville, Missouri many years ago, there were projects that I had hoped to finish that remained for someone else.  When I moved to new ministries in the parishes in Missouri, there were always things that were dropped along the way--so many things left undone and left behind.  There were words of blessing that remained unspoken.  There were deeds of kindness that--while imagined--still remained undone.  Life's jagged edges and endings.  Sometimes there is simply not enough time. 

Most merciful God, set me free from the memory of my sin.  I entrust to you the jagged edges, the unfinished business, the unfulfilled dreams, and the incompleteness of my life.   Lift my weighty burden by the power of your pardon.  Set things right in my soul.  Let your peace come . . . that I my go.  Amen.

A Good Good-Bye

Life in the church always involves transitions.  The congregation that God gathers to worship this morning will likely never be together again in the same way, yet the church moves forward through every change.

A church that I once served as pastor and teacher suffered the untimely death of one of its members.  Joe dropped dead on a Saturday afternoon while mowing his yard.  He was one of those saints who always had a kind word, worked hard to support his church no matter what the latest argument might be, and gave generously of his financial resources.  On the Sunday morning after Joe's death, I overheard a woman say to her friend as they entered the vestibule, "Let's sit in Joe's seat this morning."  Initially, I was stunned at such a remark, so casually made so soon after Joe's death.  But later, I saw how important it was that Joe's seat be filled by others, that the role that Joe had played in that church be taken up by others.  The survival of the church depends, I think, on navigating the transitions in faith, trusting in the hope of Christ's resurrection.

As I move toward the gift of a sabbatical from my ministry with the New Hampshire Conference of the United Church of Christ, I sense a deep resistance in my own spirit.  I don't want to go because I am apprehensive about what I might miss while I am gone.  I will not be present for the search committees with whom I've served.  I will not be here to help make important decisions that may have a long-lasting impact on the future of the Conference.  I will not be here to celebrate at installations and to share the liturgies of farewell as pastors move on to other ministries.  I will not be here. 

So, in this sabbatical time I'm rehearsing a good-bye, a good good-bye.  What the sabbatical time signals is a kind of spiritual transition that will be as important for the New Hampshire Conference as it is for me.  This is not the ultimate farewell, but it is a type of good-bye that is important.  I see far too many ministers who never have  experienced a good good-bye in the settings where they have served.

As I prepare to leave for a time--to be disconnected from the ministry that has shaped my life--I remember the words of Paul:  "Finally, brothers and sisters, farewell.  Put things in order, listen to my appeal, agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you." 
--II Corinthians, 13:11, NRSV.

O God who calls us to follow Jesus on the journey, grant us faith in every transition to trust you to see us through.  May there be a blessing in every parting, deep gratitude, real release.  Amen.

It's All about the Journey

Yesterday's Installation of the Rev. Jennifer Valentine as Associate Pastor and Teacher of First Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, in Manchester was a high and holy moment.  It was so good to see and hear youth participating in the service, leading, singing, and giving witness to the faith that grows within them.  The music was uplifting, lively, inspiring the gift of joy.  It was the sermon the Rev. David Neil, preached that moved me to deeper reflection.  His text was Mark 6:7-13.  He spoke of what we are called to take along and what must be left behind as we follow Jesus.  But, ultimately and always, it's about the journey we share with one another and with Jesus.

As I prepare for the journey of my sabbatical, I am clearing my desk and arranging my files.  A lot of things simply need to be packed away or discarded.  I cannot keep it all.  I should not keep it all.  The Rev. Dale Hempen, the Acting Conference Minister, will receive a desk that is not laden with fifty pounds of paper.  It is time to put it all away and move on.

But, the baggage of life and ministry is not always the tangible stuff--bread, bag, money in the belt, and that extra tunic.  Sometimes the heaviest baggage is inside--the fear, the guilt, the sad memory of a time when I did not follow Jesus as I had promised to do.  I settled for a "settled" ministry rather than one that was moving foward in faith, hope, and love.  Forgiveness--mutual and multifaceted forgiveness--is one way that life becomes unencumbered and free again.  Extending a hand and a humble heart--while there is yet time--is to open ourselves to the possibility of a new adventure in ministry.

It is also reassuring to remember that Jesus still sends us in company together, "two by two."  We are not alone.  We are never alone.  Our partners in ministry provide essential support and focus.  When we are tempted to wander off, become self-deluded, or wallow in self-pity, our companions can help provide perspective and point us back to the journey with Jesus.  There's a world that needs our word and witness, our love and care.  There are demons to drive out.  There are many who wait for annointing and healing. 

Today am grateful to God for companions in ministy, for Jennie, David, Dale, and many, many more.  I am grateful to God, who calls us to the journey, and for all who share it as friends and colleagues in Christ.

Let's go . . . .