The Young Pastor Wound, Aftermath

Once the wound was inflicted I began to withdraw. As a result of the meeting with district leaders at the request of the one lady who had it out for me, the district superintendents wanted to get me out of the church. This brought on a full range of emotion, from relief to anger, joy to frustration, contentment to bitterness. After announcing this decision to the church, I began to spend less and less time there, my heart was no longer in what I was doing.

I didn't want to be around the people who had attacked me, and so I began to spend less and less time at the office. I began to write my sermons Saturday night, and Sunday morning I would pretty much read them. My heart wasn't in it anymore, so I performed my duties out of obligation, doing what I had to do, but I wasn't willing to open myself up anymore to be hit in the same spot.

As I prepared for that final Sunday, my mentor at the time was talking to me about leaving well. Peyton Manning had recently been released by the Colts, and my mentor said I should watch the press meeting where the announcement had been made; he told me it was an excellent example of someone leaving well. I did, and it was, and that was how I wanted to leave.

I had been preaching through the Gospel of John, and I was somewhere around John's account of the last supper (I don't have the flash drive with me so I can't tell you the exact passage), and communion fit into the service. I decided that the best way I could leave well, was for my final act as pastor to be to offer communion to the congregation. Typically the church would use the tiny cups and wafers, but this time I held a piece of bread and a cup of juice. Everyone came forward, broke a piece of bread and dipped it, and to each one of them I said, "The body and blood of Christ, broken and shed for you (their name)".

After the service I wanted to leave. Typically, everyone left after service, but today they all came forward to shake my hand, give a hug, and say goodbye. I stood there and met them all, some of them it stung a lot more than others. Then at the end of the crowd was one lady named Sue. Her husband, Ron, was sick battling cancer, but these were two of the best people I had ever met. I loved going to sit with them in their home, and they just genuinely loved me. She stood there, and as I took a step toward her she put her hands to her face and began to cry saying, "We were supposed to love you!" I assured her that she and her family had, and that they had been the biggest joy for me while I was there.

I went home, not knowing what I was going to do the next day, waiting for the phone to ring in response to the resumes I had sent out, but I wasn't really trying to process anything at the point...


Fight the lion, 1 Peter 5.1-11

TO GOD ALONE BE THE GLORY!