being humbled and strengthened by jesus over and over again...

"Ou est tu?" was the message on my phone. For the past four hours I have been in the basement listening to Joni Mitchell while digging through the remaining boxes of old sermons. In the process I relived another twenty years of ministry - the good, the bad, the ugly and joyful - all of it again. So where am I, indeed? In Cleveland for a spell, then Saginaw. Out of the middle of my NYC seminary notes pops up words from Tucson, AZ. The chalice I was given upon ordination in Connecticut is retrieved while unwrapping my doctoral hood from California. And my favorite ceramic mug from Iona, Scotland made an appearance, too. 

Separating this wheat from the chaff of my clutter is a task only I could perform. At the end of time, Jesus tells us that the Lord will do the sorting - and I am grateful that is so. Grace will rule that day. For the time being, however, it is my time to discern what to keep and what to relinquish. As of today, ten full boxes have become two. There are still four crates of sheet music to sort and a host of art works, as well. But that requires collaboration and must wait for another day. For the moment my effort was essential - and I am so very glad I took the time to do it carefully: folder by folder, reading snippets of nearly every sermon before tossing most in the trash. Remembering as many faces and feelings as possible, pausing periodically for a tear or a prayer. It has been a full two days.

And as this letting go concludes, I can say without equivocation that I am grateful for the whole of it. I was blessed in ways I could never have imagined. I was forgiven and trusted repeatedly by God and those I was called to care for in my four congregations. What's more, in the ordinary work of being the pastor - visiting the sick, feeding the hungry, equipping the saints for the work of ministry, and celebrating Eucharist, baptism and funerals - I met Jesus over and over again. And his presence repeatedly humbled and strengthened me when I need that the most. Further, I realize now that I met Jesus in my weekly study and prayer for worship, too. What a privilege to regularly wrestle and reflect upon Scripture in ways the spoke to the lives of my flock. Rereading all those sermons showed me that time and again Jesus would show up in both my preparations as well as in worship in the most unexpected ways to shower us all with grace. 

On the fourth Sunday of Advent one year in Cleveland, gathered around the communion table as I celebrated Eucharist, I asked the people: "What is your favorite Christmas song? Perhaps we can sing it together as we serve one another the bread and cup?" And without hesitation, George Spice, a man with intellectual disabilities who rode the bus every week from his group home, shouted, "Rudolf, James? Rudolf is my favorite Christmas song!" I was stunned into silence. For decades I had tried to enforce a rigid Advent spirituality on our common worship - only right before the Feast of the Nativity would we even get close to Christmas carols - and now the call was for "Rudolf?" Every ounce of my body screamed "NO" in judgment - until I looked at George's face. He was beaming and ready to accept the host while belting out "Rudolf the Red Nose Reindeer" around the communion table. And I felt Jesus quietly say to me, "Get out of my way, Lumsden, let the love and light through..." So I burst out laughing, broke the bread of life, lifted the cup of blessing and said, "Let's sing Rudolf unto the Lord - with vigor!" And we did. And Jesus was with us laughing and nourishing us like never before.

Over and over things like that happened - they happen to all pastors - and it is important for us to remember them. To honor them and return thanks to God for them. There is more to say about all of this - and still more to sort, too - but for now let me note my deepest gratitude for all the people in all my congregations who brought me into communion with Christ. You have changed my liffe forever. 

As we prepare for a new round of ministry in new ways in the rigors of retirement, this sorting has been holy for me: a time to rejoice and weep, a time to remember and let go, a time to celebrate the presence of Jesus in so much of what happened. And all by the grace of God. Last night Di asked me, "What word do you think captures the heart of your ministry? I think it is incarnation." Without pausing I said, "I like that but I think my time was all about grace." She smiled and nodded saying, "Yes grace... AND incarnation." 

Won't you let me be your servant let me be as Christ to you
Pray that I might have the grace to let you be my servant too

We are pilgrims on the journey, brothers/sisters on the road
We are here to help each other walk the mile and bear the load

I will hold the Christ light for you in the night time of your fear
I will hold my hand out to you, speak the the peace you long to hear.

I will weep when you are weeping, when you laugh, I’ll laugh with you
I will share your joy and sorrow till we’ve seen this journey through.

When we sing to God in heaven we shall find such harmony
Born of all we’ve known together of Christ’s love and agony

(Concelebrating at my sister Karen and Denis' wedding in Maryland)