Letting Go

December 14, 2017

There’s something to be said for getting up early, but I can’t remember what it is. At this morning’s prayer time with the guys, Harry started us off as he always does, with a Psalm. Today’s was 57, the 8th verse which reads, “Wake up, my soul! Wake up, harp and lyre! I will wake up the dawn.” Well, we’ve been doing that as the days have shortened. Crawling out of a warm bed a little after 5:00 is not my favorite activity, but it has its rewards. As we prayed for our churches, for friends and acquaintances, and for our communities, I woke up. My soul, that is.

It turns out I’ve been fooling myself. When I retired three years ago, it was such a weight off my shoulders that I literally felt it lift as I symbolically passed the mantle of leadership to pastor Joe. It felt good to be free of the responsibilities, to not have continually on my mind the constant concern with attendance, finances, and people’s problems. I knew that retirement wasn’t an end-all in itself, and prayed and thought constantly about what God’s plans for me might be, but I never imagined those plans might take the course I seem to be on at the moment. I’ve been fighting it, with one foot in two worlds, but I don’t know how much longer I can do that. So, I guess I’m drawing a line in the sand. The goals I’ve set for myself with the Dunkirk church cannot be reached if I’m only half-committed, so I either have to quit or jump in. I’m jumping in. I don’t know fully what that means, but I know that in my heart and head I can no longer be tentative. 

An excitement is growing inside me. I see so many possibilities that are like wide-open doors, but nothing happens overnight and I don’t want to miss out on what God has in store, especially when he seems to have dropped it right in my lap. I miss being a part of what’s happening at Park church and just being with my friends. But remaining in one’s own little circle does nothing for the kingdom of God, and is not how God operates. He didn’t save us by edict from afar; he entered human life in the form of his own Son. The Holy Trinity could have remained in heavenly glory forever, but Jesus Christ left the familiar and comfortable to go to a cross. Scripture says he endured the cross by looking to the joy set before him (Hebrews 12:1-2). Being in Dunkirk is certainly no cross to bear; it is proving to be a joy to which I look forward every time I set out for the north country. 

On the radio tonight, David Jeremiah said, “The way of the world is front loaded with pleasure, but back loaded with pain. Christianity is front loaded with pain and back loaded with pleasure.” Then he added, “I’d rather be moving towards joy than away from it.” That’s what I’m doing, and in the process, am discovering that the present joy is balancing any sense of loss I am experiencing by being away from my Park church family. 

In Romans 10:15, Paul said, “How can they preach unless they are sent?” I can preach all day, but if I don’t allow God to send me into the community, I’m not really preaching. I either have to go or I have to stop pretending I’m preaching. So I’m going, and thanking God for the honor of being a small part of what he is planning for Dunkirk.