One last Sunday
I used to wonder how my time at Covenant would end. Back in the middle of it all, back when I couldn’t imagine any other life for myself, I would wonder what my last Sunday would be like. I knew my time at Covenant was not preparing me for ministry in another church. For better and for worse, Covenant Baptist Church is a unique kind of community that doesn’t follow the rules. I am not by nature good at organizational and managerial issues. I wonder, did my personality help create this strange little church that has always been somewhat unorganized and lightly managed? I don’t know, but I certainly didn’t pick up any of those skills on this wonderful journey with these quirky pilgrims.
On the other hand, you might say that Covenant is the perfect kind of church to turn a preacher into a writer. There was always plenty of time and space for wondering, daydreaming, wandering, and musing.
Of course, everything eventually ends. I knew that, but I could never imagine how it would happen.
I started with Ben and JoAnn Chappell. The Chappell family has been at Covenant since 1990. They are the only family in the church, apart from mine, who was here in the days of our first pastor. Jeanene and I went out to eat with Ben and JoAnn. We had a great time, but my heart was pounding through the entire dinner. I kept looking for a moment to transition to the hard subject at hand. There was no good time in the conversation. Nor was there an easy way to bring it up.
Finally I said, “There is something I need to tell you. It’s not a bad thing, but it is a hard thing.”
I paused for a moment on the edge of everything. On the edge of my life for the last 20 years and on the edge of whatever is to come. Once I spoke these words, there was no taking them back.
“I’m going to resign as the pastor of Covenant.”
I said it. And then we talked about it for about an hour. Ben and JoAnn were very gracious, as was everyone I talked to over the next few days. I told all the deacons and elders. I talked to some families who have been in the church for a long time. Others heard for the first time the Sunday morning I resigned. Every time I told someone my burden lightened. It is VERY clear to me that this was the right decision to make. Not only that, it was the only decision to make. I had to resign or resign myself to a life of pretending. I don’t have it in me anymore. And this isn’t the sort of job that works well if you are pretending.
Still, it was hard. When a pastor leaves a church, there is a lot of work for people to do. The longer the pastor has been there, the harder the transition. The thing I have hated the most was dropping a bunch of anxiety and work onto my friends. I have always seen myself as one who carried burdens for the community and lessened the anxiety. It has been terribly hard to become the bringer of anxiety and the giver of burdens.
But now it is done. And now it is Friday. Sunday is my last day. Four months shy of eighteen years.
Sunday morning I will get up before the rising of the sun, as I have done since 1993. It will be dark out and cold. I will follow my long-standing practice of getting ready. Get moving, get dressed, stop to look at the stars, open the door, turn on the lights, check the building, arrange the chairs, go over the sermon, print and fold the orders of worship, etc. This practice got me through the early years when I was afraid, the middle years when I was depressed, and even the last year or so when I wondered if I should be there at all.
And now, one last time.
What will I do with myself a week from Sunday? What practice will I find to take the place of this deep and old ritual I have carved out of my life and into this community?
I do not know.
rlp
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What to do on Sunday
Submitted by Anonymous on Fri, 02/05/2010 - 16:39.May I be so bold as to invite you to our parish for a Sunday?
You've been practicing.
Submitted by Pascale Soleil on Fri, 02/05/2010 - 16:57.I think you've been practicing for this transition, on one way or another, for a long time.
First, you started a somewhat subversive blog. Initially it was anonymous, and then you bravely owned it.
You've been writing about Foy for some time now. That was, at least in part, a way to imaginatively "take on" what life post-ministry might look like.
And, not so long ago, you took a sabbatical and attended worship services at other churches.
You have built a community of friends and like-minded soul. You have written and published two books. You have gradually refocused your daily life and practice. You are already doing the beginning of what's next.
I'm so proud of you.
Something Beautiful
Thinking of you
Submitted by Anonymous on Fri, 02/05/2010 - 17:49.As you go into this weekend.
So you've been preparing for quite some time now.
Submitted by casey rousseau on Fri, 02/05/2010 - 18:30.I think it's a significant that the people you took into your confidence first were the only people at Covenant who'd ever been through a ministry transition at Covenant outside your own family.
Your telling of the Covenant Stories through the summer and fall make more sense now.
Are there other preparations you've made that you're ready to talk about?
New things will come.
Submitted by Anonymous on Fri, 02/05/2010 - 18:50.New rituals, fresh practices. I love the Hymn of Promise by Natalie Sleeth:
In the bulb there is a flower; in the seed, an apple tree;
In cocoons, a hidden promise: butterflies will soon be free!
In the cold and snow of winter there’s a spring that waits to be,
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.
There’s a song in every silence, seeking word and melody;
There’s a dawn in every darkness, bringing hope to you and me.
From the past will come the future; what it holds, a mystery,
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.
In our end is our beginning; in our time, infinity;
In our doubt there is believing; in our life, eternity,
In our death, a resurrection; at the last, a victory,
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see
Prayers, always,
Theresa
Quirky pilgrims
Submitted by Anonymous on Fri, 02/05/2010 - 20:04.I think that pair of words tells more of the truth about more of us than we care to have revealed. Thank you.
And God bless your journey.
Like Rebekah?
Submitted by Anonymous on Fri, 02/05/2010 - 21:31.Genesis 24:50 Then Laban and Bethuel answered, "The thing comes from the LORD; we cannot speak to you anything bad or good. …" The next morning Rebekah said goodbye, mounted her camel, and rode off to a new life. May God bless your new life too.
WOW!
Submitted by Anonymous on Fri, 02/05/2010 - 22:53.I have never been to Covenant, but I have devoured your stories for a short time now (only about three years). My wife's seminary class were each given a copy of your first book. I have been hooked from that point on.
I hope there will be more stories, but even if there aren't, may God continue to bless your Ministry... whatever it may look like in the future.
Alan
Integrity
Submitted by Anonymous on Sat, 02/06/2010 - 00:07.What you have described here sounds like an act of integrity. You had to resign so as not to pretend. And as you said, pretending doesn't work so well for a pastor. So for what its worth, I think your resignation displays tremendous integrity and demonstrates great love toward the people of Covenant.
- Scott Eaton
For you
Submitted by Anonymous on Sat, 02/06/2010 - 09:35.Okay, I tried to privately email you, but now I'm going big and brave, out into the crowd I so fear. Milton, from Don't Eat Alone, wrote a recent post on Church one day when they were too snowed in to hold services. For you I was thinking of a specific song, scroll down to Lyle Lovette's "Church." Tried to cut and paste the url, didn't succeed. And I triggered your spam filter? Is that because I wasn't logged in? I'm kait, I've been registered for years, but I very very rarely comment. The only other thing I have to say is, "thanks." I hope you will keep us as a part of your community. We need you.
Good luck, Brother
Submitted by Anonymous on Mon, 02/08/2010 - 14:25.I'm still here reading, after these many years. Sorry I never got a chance to hear you preach in person, but will continue reading, and who knows, sometime I may get to San Antinio and have a beer with you, or you might make it out to the Bay Area.
Peace and happy travels,
Geodog.
Kindred Change
Submitted by Anonymous on Fri, 02/12/2010 - 00:47.It's been a few weeks and I've missed your conversation about moving on. We have also made declaration to move on last week, after twenty years. Hard to explain the decision to move to our loving church family, when we aren't moving to a new city/state... I have grown there in ways I never could have imagined. Why change? In part because I can; I can risk the unknown because they have offered us such support and empowered us with their love. I hope, and expect, to always have that.
My song that carried me through Advent had a repeating chorus
"...There's a change in the air
There's a move by the spirit
And I wonder -
Is there a change in me?"
As so many other times, your words bring companionship on a journey of faith. As one who regularly debates with myself for 10 minutes whether to have gravy or not, turn left or right, call or write... I have such peace with this decision. Thank you for sharing - just the right words, at just the right time.... again!