Yesterday at Refuge we went "public" on the decision that the Leadership Team had agreed upon in principle a year ago and reaffirmed in January: to send their pastor on Sabbatical leave the Summer of 2010. While we have been slowly letting the air out of the bag, as it were, for some time - after all, most of our leaders have spouses, some have kids and most of the pastors I pray and generally hobnob with are all in the know - when you announce it from the pulpit its official. It's no longer an idea or a dream. It's for real.
Seven weeks from now, I am officially off line. I will have no office hours to keep, no services to conduct, no meetings to attend. Pastorally speaking, I will be unavailable. After 18 and a half years of faithful plodding, my field will lay fallow. Am I excited? Frankly, as I type these sentences I'm getting a little weirded out. For almost 30 years I have either dreamed about being in ministry, looking for a post in it or been busy working at it that I can't recall what consumed my time before all this. Obviously, I'm not leaving the ministry. It's more like a pause - and a healthy one at that - before the next chapter. But it's the pause that's got me spooked a bit and for all kinds of reasons.
What will I do with my time? Yes, there's yard work - mine and the others whom I cut for, the trim on the house needs painting and other odds and ends Linda will find me for me to tend to. Sure, I'll spend a lot more time with my wife and kids (but having hinted all these years that they would love my company more, they may find out that too much of a thing may not be good!) And I'll hike. And run. And read. And sit in the sun. But that still leaves a lot of time in my day and week.
With whom will I fellowship with? Some of my most significant conversations over the years involve people from Refuge or the Breakfast Club or The Well as we try to discern the Lord's will on a particular matter. But now I must withdraw from all these relationships for a season. I'm such a people person that the thought of having to go into seclusion of sorts scares me.
How will they do without me? A lot can happen in three months. In a real way, this pause is a referendum on how well I'm doing at the task God has called me to do: to raise and nurture healthy Kingdom leaders to carry on ministry. I believe in the people it is my joy to serve with but in my absence will they sink or swim? Which inevitably leads me to another question...
What if they do so well without me that they won't want me back? What if I'm the "x" factor that is holding them down and now while I'm away they soar? I realize this is what I'm supposed to be preparing them for. But I'm human enough to admit I like the feel of being, er, indispensable.
Who am I? As every man can testify to, we draw our identity from what we do. Around here, I'm "Pastor Jeff." "Everyone" knows me and frankly, I love that. But if I go down State to attend, say, the fellowship we were originally from, I'm just a guy with no position, no job, no task to perform. I'll be a man who takes his family to worship with the other saints in a given locale. I'll sing and pray and listen to the pastor preach, shake a few hands, perhaps, and then go home. I can imagine one week of that. But 13? Oi veh.
I suppose I'm not sounding like a man who is thrilled that he is in fellowship with a group of people who love him and his family so much they are willing to bless him with such a gift so that "when I return I will strengthen my brothers." I am grateful. Extremely so. But I'm also melancholy because for the first time since the fall of 1991, I won't be at Vacation Bible School nor at Sand Hill Lake Bible Camp. I will miss the fellowship of The Breakfast Club. I will miss "my" tribe and the place I have among them.
I think they'll do fine. It's me that I'm worried about. But if I am sincere in believing that the Lord led us to this decision than I must believe that he will be faithful to shepherd them and us through this particular season. Lord, in Your mercy, hear my prayer.
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