Two weeks ago I delivered the last of more than 800 sermons at Our Shepherd Lutheran Church in Crosby, Texas. Over the course of thirteen years and four months I united 42 souls, including my son, with Christ through holy Baptism; 72 people, including my two daughters, were confirmed in their Baptismal faith by the power of the Spirit of God; 12 couples were joined as husband and wife through holy matrimony; 3 couples reaffirmed their wedding vows on their anniversary; and 45 souls fell asleep in Jesus.
Those are all quantitative ways to measure ministry. Page counts, names on a memorial plaque, and calendar changes have their purpose. Useful, yes - to a degree. They serve as sanctified markers on the memory's scenic drive: A story unfolds/as each name passes/to remember the story/of lads and lasses - Berma Shave!
But there is part of ministry that cannot be quantified. How can I express in magnitude, or breadth, or depth the feelings that covered the entire emotional spectrum from the sudden, joyful fullness of the baby basinett holding a vibrant, loud newborn child to the terribly sudden fullness of the cold, steel coffin where the almost-but-not-quite-lifelike face of a loved one waits in silent repose. I've been in hospice rooms where a child said, "Pastor...no one will answer me...is my daddy gonna die?" I've visited a hospital room where the doctors used the wonderful word, "remission," only moments earlier. I sat with a grieving mother where we simply couldn't speak; I've prayed where only the Holy Spirit could understand the muttered rumbles; I've sung the Great Doxology with gusto and I've sung the Nunc Dimmittis with my own heart, broken.
When you get a sense of those things, you understand why saying "goodbye" is so hard. These aren't just people who go to my church. These are saints of God, whose lives and souls were entrusted to my spiritual care. I lived, served, laughed and cried among them, with them. As each of us are joined to Christ, as individuals, we are united through Christ to each other. That means that these aren't just people. They...no, we --- we are Christ's people, making us brothers and sisters in Christ. And, having been joined together through joy and sorrow - and it was even money sometimes which category some meetings fell in - it's now time to say goodbye.
Sunset at Our Shepherd Lutheran Church - May 31, 2017
Goodbye comes from Old English, a contraction of the phrase, "God be with you." It is, in part, a blessing as one invokes God's name upon the departing people. You see, when God's name is invoked, His gifts are delivered, particularly peace. So the blessing also Its also serves as a prayer. May God grant us His peace until we see each other again.
That peace is a great comfort to me these days as I prepare to move away to serve a new congregation. I have no doubt - zero - that accepting the call to Zion, Mission Valley, is the right choice. My concerns have been calmed, one by one, as each piece of this transition clicked into place like my kids' Legos.
I'm excited and eager to begin. But there is that touch of sadness, nevertheless. So, my blessing and my prayer is a simple one, yet as heartfelt as can be, both for the saints of Our Shepherd and for me and my family: God be with you. Goodbye.
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