For the first time in my life I got the summons, report for jury duty. I called the night before and I had to report the following day. I let work know, put a couple different books in my bag, along with a couple pens and some 3x5 index cards (obviously), and Monday morning drove to the county court house to due my civic duty.
I got there, got checked in, tried to find a seat that was somewhat isolated, and then pulled out The Hobbit and began to read. After about two hours they came in, called about two dozen names, and then told the rest of us we could go home. I had taken the whole day off work, and at that point really didn't feel like going home, changing, and going in, so I decided to do something that had been on my mind for a while. I was only about 20 minutes from the church I had pastored, and since I had nothing else I had to do that day (since I had prepared to sit in a jury selection room all week) I left and drove down to the community where I had spent a year and a half as pastor.
It was the first time I had been back in three years, and nothing had changed. The church is on a corner lot, and right next to it is the community center building, which is where I parked. I just sat in my car and began to reflect. My mind went through different moments there, the really successful trunk-or-treat we put on, and the two drive in movies we tried to do that no one showed up for. The funeral I officiated, honestly the most rewarding thing I've ever done, and the disastrous board meeting I wrote about.
I began to think about the people, Ron and Sue (Ron had sadly passed away shortly after I left, and Sue passed away shortly after I made this visit back to the church), the couple who had been married for over 60 years that I spent so much time in hospitals with, the teen boys that I had tried to invest in. These were people I missed. Then there were others who had caused pain, and these also came to mind. I began to remember things that were said, things that were done, the wounds that had been inflicted, and how I had responded to each of them. I began to write.
I pulled out a couple of 3x5 cards and began to write a heart felt and completely in the moment letter. I don't remember what exactly I said, but it offered forgiveness and sought forgiveness. I admitted the pain that had been inflicted, apologized for how I had handled that pain, was the final step of healing I needed to take with this wound.
I finished my letter, and then tried to figure out what to do with it. There was a new pastor at this point, but he wasn't there, and he had nothing to do with anything while I had been there. I honestly had no idea how many, if any, of the people who had been there when I was there were still attending. I thought about simply taping the note to the door, but for the above mentioned reasons I opted against this. This was a personal moment, something I had to do for myself, and leaving it publicly displayed felt insincere and self-righteous. I wasn't sure what to do, and so I called a pastor fried to ask his advice. As we talked through the situation and scenarios he threw out this idea, "Why don't you bury it?" He mentioned a sermon another pastor, an older and wiser man, at the church he serves at had done where he talked about burying the hatched, and this suggestion felt like the right move.
I have a small folding camp shovel in my car (I have random survival gear in strategic places just in case) and so I got it out, found a small area in the back flower bed where nothing was planted, dug a small hole, and buried the letter I had written. I got back in my car, said a final prayer, and went to see what had happened to the local coffee shop I used to frequent.
I haven't been back since, I really have no reason to go back. I no longer dwell on the pain that was inflicted, or the people who dealt it. I'm not consumed by anger because of how I was treated, and there is no longer hatred towards those who wounded me. God has brought healing, and from this experience I've developed a heart for small churches and the pastors who lead them. The scars I carry from this wound give me the desire to help others who are in similar situations, for that reason I am glad I went through this experience.
Fight the lion, 1 Peter 5.1-11
TO GOD ALONE BE THE GLORY!
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