I really don’t understand how it can be the end of May already. Didn’t we just have our trip to England, wasn’t it just Valentine’s Day, I thought Lent began last Wednesday…?
And was it really February that I had my DCOM meeting and got approved to become a local licensed pastor?
But in this second half of the month, the pastor train is picking up speed. Last weekend was the announcement that I would be staying at Sydenstricker UMC as their new Associate Pastor; there were actual whoops and “yay!”s from the pews when it was said. Which made me feel welcomed and supported and blessed all at once. I’m fortunate to begin my pastoral career among such people, and indeed, among people that I know and where I can grow, make my mistakes, and help move things forward in a supportive environment.
And now I write from the campus of Virginia Wesleyan University in Virginia Beach, where I and 28 others are spending nine days in Licensing School under the tutelage of leaders throughout Virginia, teaching us how to become productive, effective pastors. I’m among a group of folks who will be taking fresh the reins of two- and three-point charges in rural Virginia, mostly moving to new assignments; my friend John and I are in the minority for sure, where we are rising to be Associate Pastors at our home churches.
It’s a mix of practical advice that I’m trying to soak up, especially as they discuss smaller churches (as I will doubtless have myself someday). But it’s also vaguely intimidating still as well: I’ll be responsible for all this?? At times like this I’m grateful for the opportunity to have an in-place mentor who knows all this stuff, and worried for how well I will pick up on the subtleties and nuances of whatever charge I get next.
But in the end, as with this whole endeavor, it’s about faith. Faith that God has called me into this for a reason, that if I will only open myself to him, I can hear his voice and let him lead me into those changing scenes and different situations that I will face. So yeah, it looks like this is going to be A Thing now…let’s do this. Together, please.
I’ve shared before how my daughter–my baby girl–has struggled with anxiety around school, to the point that she tried (and didn’t) finishing school a year early. This year, we had pulled her from the public school, to let her finish out the last few classes online; that wound up not working as well as we had hoped either.
But today, Sarah completed her journey, and has now earned her credential: she passed her last tests for her GED, two of which she passed with high enough scores that she could qualify for college credits at certain institutions. She will graduate on time, with the rest of her friends, and be able to start her next journeys.
I am SO proud of her. She has struggled these last four years, and there are plenty of times I am sure she felt she would never be done. And truth be told, I know there was a lot of frustration on our end as parents, trying to do everything we could for her because isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? And then coming to the realization that all we can do is love her, and pray for her, and with God’s help she will find a way. We knew her path might look very different from other paths…and that’s super OK. And so she won’t go on to college right now, or be a part of the public school graduation ceremony. But you know what? She’s exactly who, and where, she is supposed to be. And I can’t say enough how much I love her and am proud of her for pushing through and making it to today.
Her graduation ceremony is June 1, with a gaggle of her friends who are homeschooled; it winds up being the same day as if she had stayed in public schools. Some family are coming to be a part of the day, and it will be so thrilling to see our last, our baby, be done with school finally and officially, and on to whatever path God has in store for her.
Love my Sarah!
This past weekend I had the blessing to accompany the team and 19 new pilgrims to an amazing experience of God’s love in Emmaus weekend E-189. The theme for the weekend was Rescued From Ourselves, and in so many ways God helped us all achieve that goal. For instance, one brother confronted his decades-old baggage about abuse he suffered as a boy. It was a powerful and glorious experience and I was humbled to be a part of it.
On one level it was a little disappointing that only 19 (of the maximum 30) new pilgrims attended. But it started me thinking. These weekends aren’t for everybody, to be sure. I know people who aren’t ready: for whom this kind of overwhelming love wouldn’t be understood. It reminds me of the parable of the good soil:
A farmer went out to plant some seeds. As he scattered them across his field, some seeds fell on a footpath, and the birds came and ate them. Other seeds fell on shallow soil with underlying rock. The seeds sprouted quickly because the soil was shallow. But the plants soon wilted under the hot sun, and since they didn’t have deep roots, they died. Other seeds fell among thorns that grew up and choked out the tender plants. Still other seeds fell on fertile soil, and they produced a crop that was thirty, sixty, and even a hundred times as much as had been planted! (Matthew 13:3-8)
We want to become good soil, which is ready to receive the seed and let it blossom. And so I think the challenge for us isn’t necessarily how many people we can get to the mountain, but whether we’re doing the necessary spadework to prepare them to receive the seed well: that it doesn’t get eaten or wilt or live among thorns. That would be my challenge to us ahead of next time: preparing the ground for 30–or even 19!–pilgrims who will be truly transformed.