Second thoughts

This is why the holy fathers also withdrew into the desert alone, men such as Elijah the Tishbite and John the Baptist. For do not suppose that because the righteous were in the midst of men it was among men they had achieved their righteousness. Rather, having first practiced much quiet, they then received the power of God dwelling in them, and then God sent them into the midst of men, having acquired every virtue, so that they might act as God’s provisioners and cure men of their infirmities
Ammonas, Epistle 12
from Worshiping with the Church Fathers by Christopher A. Hall

In this final week before my sabbatical officially begins, I anticipated that it would be much like the weeks that have preceded this one have been: relatively quiet pastorally-speaking allowing me a lot of space to tie up some loose ends and (mostly) clean my office. But, people’s lives don’t run that way and suddenly there are situations at Refuge that call for a pastor’s presence.

It began Sunday afternoon. It had already been a full day what with morning worship and our daughter’s dance recital and a graduation party immediately following. So in between the party and our high school baccalaureate service, I had laid down to catch a quick nap when the phone rang. Linda took it. There was a long pause and then I heard her say, “I’ll make sure Pastor Jeff knows.” After she hung up, she gently pulled me up from foggy bottom to inform me that Renee’s sister and brother-in-law had been in a car accident that morning; that he had died and his wife had been flown to the Cities for treatment. Renee is not just a deacon at Refuge. She and her husband, Randy, are dear friends. And knowing what struggles her family have been going through these last few years now it seems another one has been added to the mix.

I pulled myself off our bed and since I don’t have a copy of our phone tree at home, I drove over to the office to begin passing the word. I also put in a call to Renee who had been in South Dakota for the weekend and was in route to the hospital. We talked a bit and prayed together. Following the Baccalaureate service, I stopped back in the office to complete getting the word out about Renee’s family when the phone rang and it was John, our local funeral director, informing me that the father of our former neighbor had died that afternoon and his family was wondering if I might preside at his funeral. Because of my long association with this family how I could I say no.

On Monday, I spoke with Renee by phone to see how things were transpiring with her sister and later that day she, her daughter, Cassandra (now married and living out east) and I met at DQ next door for a long visit – a visit, I might add, I thoroughly enjoyed.

On Tuesday, I met one more time with the Breakfast Club, this ad-hoc group of pastors, ministry leaders and their wives who together represent a circle of strength to me personally. These are not just my colleagues in ministry. We are literally co-laborers in the greater work of Christ in our area, brothers-in-arms and comrades. It is no small thing for me to back away from the table from these dear friends.

On Tuesday, Hope (a young woman from our fellowship) called to inform me that her mother had to be hospitalized with a serious infection. We prayed together and asked her to ask her mom if she might want a pastoral visit.

On Tuesday, I learned that my friend Pete, one of the leaders of the Church of Love and Compassion, a First Nations fellowship up on the Lac Coutre Oreilles reservation, has lung cancer. We spoke by phone and prayed together.

On Tuesday, I was in court with an inmate who I had met recently and who had requested my presence at his sentencing. I expected him to be released but not practically on the spot. With no family or other filial connections locally, it fell upon me to arrange housing and transportation (i.e., me) to get him to the half-way house in Polk County. I’m not complaining. The best thing for all parties involved is to help him get back to Arizona where’s he from. It just wasn’t the way I had planned to spend my afternoon.

On Tuesday, Joe (our youth leader) informed me that he and Brianna (another young woman from our fellowship) were now officially courting. It’s not bad news, mind you. But given the fact that I will be out of the loop for a few months I felt I better give my fatherly counsel about what I expected of both of them in my absence.

On Tuesday, I helped facilitate a prayer appointment with a guy that one of our men has been ministering to of late. This, too, is not a burden especially when joy and encouragement are in your wake.

Needless to say, Tuesday was a very full day indeed.

Which brings me to today, Wednesday. My final VBS planning meeting, my final consultation with my secretary. A “last lunch” with Scott, a guy from our fellowship with whom I regularly track with. A visit with the son of the father whose funeral I will conduct on Friday. One more night at Focus. To say nothing of the pastoral work yet to be done in the days ahead – two funerals, a fellowship gathering of a local para-church ministry we’re involved in, a worship gathering at the YWAM campus, Chetek’s high school graduation ceremonies on Saturday night and the worship gathering at the Justice Center this Sunday afternoon.

This probably reads as if I’m going away for good. Of course, I’m not. But so many things have arisen suddenly that tug at my heart and beckon my attendance. A pastor, after all, wants to be present at these crossroad moments in people’s lives. I realize I am not the only voice that they are listening to, that there are others often louder than my own. But a pastor speaks all the same and for reasons that still defy me, it matters. And for that reason I am tempted to look backward and consider if only momentarily my departure at this time.

Which gets to the heart of what this sabbatical seems to be about for me. It’s a wonderful thing to be needed, to feel that you make a contribution to the lives of those around you in some significant way. But if I were to die today, life would go on without me. Refuge would go on. The ministry of Jesus would definitely go on in this community. With a side glance at Bilbo, like him I am “only quite a little fellow in a wide world, after all.” No, more than they need me, they need to rely on Jesus Christ and each other, carrying each other’s burdens and by doing so fulfilling the law of Him whom they love so dearly (Galatians 6:2).

I’ve been reading Christopher A. Hall’s book, Worshiping with the Church Fathers, of late. In retrospect, it’s been good prep work before I go. The latter chapters of the book speak of the Desert Fathers, those monks of the third and fourth century who withdrew from the cities in order to pursue a vital, authentic relationship with God in the silence and inhospitable environs of the desert. But it was not an end in itself. They didn’t just withdraw for the sake of withdrawing. Rather, it was to know Him on whom they had believed and, in his time, return to “strengthen their brothers.” I hope to do just this.

I am retreating into the desert myself, if only a little ways. A good friend of mine shared this with me just recently: “The more I pray for you the more I hear... ‘He just needs to hear me again’ Did you know that the King of Kings is waiting for you? Your bridegroom is waiting to embrace you. Run... run into His arms. Feel His breath upon you. Breathe.”

I don’t know if I should be excited or terrified. But ready or not, I go there all the same. Oh, God. This is as hard as I thought it would be but “the LORD will fulfill his purpose for me; your love, O LORD, endures forever – do not abandon the works of your hands” (Ps. 138:8).