Letters from the new pastor - One year ago

May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God.
-adapted from Paul’s prayers for the Ephesian church

One year ago, today, I preached my final sermon as pastor at my previous church. We had no idea that would be the last time for months that churches would gather together in large numbers. We had no idea that our “farewell dinner” (which was amazing) would be the last public party we’d attend for at least the next year.

No, we didn’t know. Although Shauna and I celebrated our last “official” day the following Thursday with our team, we didn’t know it would be one of the last restaurant meals we’d have for months. We didn’t know it would be the last day of school for our kids- at least, school as they’ve always known it. We didn’t know that the big, final Maryland birthday parties that had been planned would never happen, or that all the dinners and final goodbyes with friends would be relegated to wishful thinking.

We didn’t know that, once we’d moved, that we wouldn’t be able to share and discover new friends immediately- at no fault to our new congregation. We didn’t know that for months, church (and preaching) would be conformed to screens. In turn, you (our new church family) wouldn’t get to sit around tables with us immediately and hold back laughter as we got to know each other.

We didn’t know that the last Christmas was the last Christmas for too many of our friends and neighbors.

The last year has felt like ten years- and we all have ongoing fatigue with it.

So, what then is this fullness of life and power that Paul speaks of to the Ephesian church? It must have something to do with a dynamic that seems out of reach. This life and power, this completion of which he speaks, must be able to coexist with grief- sadness- fatigue. After all, for Paul this fullness of life was present while he was imprisoned.

I’m convinced that this fullness of life is realized more as I walk down the path of Jesus. Just this week, Pastor Tim Keller wrote an article that was featured in The Atlantic on how he’s never been happier in his life- this while he battles pancreatic cancer. Listen to this pastor’s words regarding the fullness of life:

“To our surprise and encouragement, Kathy and I have discovered that the less we attempt to make this world into a heaven, the more we are able to enjoy it.

No longer are we burdening it with demands impossible for it to fulfill. We have found that the simplest things—from sun on the water and flowers in the vase to our own embraces, sex, and conversation—bring more joy than ever. This has taken us by surprise.”

Yeah. That. I don’t know that I’ll fully comprehend it without seeing my own mortality, but isn’t that sort of comforting? That in the light of God’s largeness we again discover our smallness? That in his fullness we discover, again and again, our own lack? May it possibly be that in the middle of mayhem and distress that we find what we’ve always hoped to find? Fullness.

I look back on this past year (which, for me, at least, began one year ago from today, specifically), and I don’t really have any regrets. There are so many things I had had planned- but I’m trying to trust that He’s (God) working every thing out for good. Not just my good- but yours, too. Even death. Even angst. Even depression. He’s going to redeem them all. This world isn’t heaven and it can never be. Thank God.

Amen.