Annual Letter from the Pastor

January 2018

“I liked that poem you read on the radio,” someone might mention in the deli section of the grocery store.

“Not sure what to make of the sermon, but the last hymn was wonderful,” someone might say on their way out of worship.

“Two different groups at the restaurant were talking about sex because of your sermon,” I actually heard recently.  (I did not get any report as to what was said.  But I’d like to think that those at neighboring tables were . . . illumined.)

 

Every once in awhile, some little snippet of conversation will betray a clue reminding me that God is at work.  Now and then, I get to witness a just a sliver of the lively spirituality of others.  But these can be rare glimpses.  For the most part, we love God and serve others without much in the way of feedback.  In fact, the great majority of what transpires in others is inaccessible to us. 

The older I get, and the longer I pray, the more I realize how little I know, and how little I can control.  We hope that the good news of God’s love creates a little buzz of energy within us that blesses others in quiet ways.  We hope that in all the ordinary activities of life, God’s Spirit is pulling us toward depth, forming us as people who are seeking God’s kingdom before all else.  But of course you could never know if that’s true. 

As a pastor my week consists of dozens of face-to-face meetings, visits to people in the hospital, connections with people through emails, texts, phone calls, radio spots and social media.  To be a pastor is to be engaged in hundreds of different relationships at the same time, with people at very different places in life.

There are very few feedback loops.  I do my best to work prayerfully – open to being with people in whatever ways needed.  I couldn’t do this work if I didn’t trust that God is already at work both in us and in-between us.  I would find something else to do if it ever occurred to me that it was all up to me to manufacture spirituality in others.  Living that way would be demanding, overwhelming, burdensome, and unsustainable.  The delight in my work with all of you emerges from my trust that God has called us together into the joy of the good news.

It strikes me that this season of life is challenging one.  As a congregation, we have been gathered by God to hear the good news of Jesus Christ, and to live it out with gladness.  But we do so in the midst of our own personal challenges, amidst the challenges of our community, and amidst the larger landscape of our national lives. 

I talk frequently about the shifting climate in which all congregations do their work.  My goal is simply to remind us to live with confidence in God’s project of blessing and healing the world in Jesus Christ.  Our task is simple: to live in the wake of that good news, inviting others into it whenever we can. 

When I write sermons (usually on Tuesdays), I often have in mind faces and conversations.  How will this sound to someone looking for work?  Is this really good news for someone exhausted by the demands of caregiving?  Does this gospel story stand any chance of being heard by the young people in the balcony?

As a pastor, the possibility of a sermon ever surviving the closing hymn and making it out the door is a miracle every bit as unlikely as Jonah surviving the fish’s belly.   As with the sermon, the same goes for all of you in your practice of faithfulness.  We entrust our efforts to the mystery of other people’s lives, with no guarantee whatsoever that anything will come of it.

I am trying to express a common mystery for all of us – that the gifts we fling out freely are often not accounted for.  They cannot be captured as data.  They cannot be measured or tallied.  They weren’t meant for a spreadsheet anyway.  Our attempts at fidelity to God and others is more like an organic flowing over of who we as people loved and blessed by God.  It flows out and flows away.

I thank God for all the ways you serve and love and encourage and sing and pray and give and show up, without anyone ever giving you a trophy or a t-shirt (well, maybe we did give you a t-shirt, but you get my point).  So much of what you do is entrusted to others in a great mystery of unknowing.  We sit and listen to another person - did it help?  We provided food - did it bless them?  We agreed to take on a task - did this project make a difference?  We helped pay for a doctor visit or for a utility bill - was this received as an expression of God’s gracious care?

So as we head into another year of worship and ministry together, let me assure you that your love for each other and your service to others makes a difference.  Like small flowers dropped here and there by a child (an image from Therese of Liseux), our tiny acts of devotion are welcomed by God with delight, and are the very things that make the world beautiful and humane.  Do not lose heart.  Do not give up.  Do not quit fighting for a more just and peaceful world.  Do not stop offering your gifts to the world.  Do not cease singing your song of gladness.

With thanksgiving to God for the ways Christ lives in you,

Jared.