That old Lenten hymn is in my thoughts as I begin this Holy Week. As I was ready to begin the Palm Sunday worship yesterday, I was hit with a wave of grief -- it's the last time we will do this together. The emotion surprised me, because even though I had made the announcement of my retirement in December, I knew it was coming. I expected to feel some sadness at the end of the Christmas Eve service, but I didn't, so I wasn't expecting it yesterday, either.
Then today I was talking with a friend who is also a colleague and again I was overwhelmed with emotion thinking about the congregation I serve and what a wonderful context it is in which to preach. All of a sudden I'm deeply aware of how much will be changing very soon, how much the structure of my life will be different, how deep ties of affection will have to be altered.
You can't be a decent pastor without loving the congregation you serve. People invite you, as a pastor, into the deepest, most tender, most intimate areas of their lives, and you can't share that with them if you haven't loved them first, nor if you don't honor and respect that vulnerability. And you can't do that from a position of superiority -- you have to be equally vulnerable, equally transparent and honest. And you don't just walk away from those relationships without a sense of loss.
During Holy Week we're thinking about Jesus' sacrifice for the sake of humanity. My sacrifice is pretty puny in comparison. I'm just thinking about how intense the emotions of this week are in a good year, and getting myself prepared to experience and live through what will come.
No comments:
Post a Comment