Thirty-seven years ago, on a sweltering Sunday afternoon, in a sanctuary without air conditioning, Garrett and I were ordained as ministers into the United Church of Christ. It seems pretty fitting. If you think kitchens get hot, imagine entering into the most intimate settings of folks’ lives. Fortunately, at the time, we had no idea what we were committing to. Like a young couple who stands starry-eyed and blissfully unaware of the import of their vows (“…in sickness and in health, in plenty and in want, in joy and in sorrow, as long as we both shall live….. REALLY?!), ordinands cannot know the weight of the call that follows the laying on of hands.
Lest it seem that I regret my career decision, let me assure you that I have felt privileged to be invited into the lives of “my people”. I have been blessed by countless meaningful conversations at key junctures in our faith journeys and on so many ordinary days. There is no territory in the happenings of each day that is beyond the reach of the sacred. The congregants at the First Church of Lombard (IL), U.C.C. were generous to Garrett and me. As with any trainee, there are many teaching moments that require grace on the part of those sheep relying on me as their shepherd—and grace was always extended.
Garrett and I were married July 7, 1985. We reported to duty in our shared position of Associate Pastors in Lombard just two weeks later. That first year I shared in the tasks of ministry (mainly youth ministry with lock-ins, retreats, and mission trips—physically taxing outings that are for younger bodies!) while finishing up my Masters of Divinity. I commuted to Hyde Park for my classes while Garrett headed into our shared office each day. It’s the only time in our lives that we shared a desk and an office. Clearly, we were in the honeymoon stage where there could not be too much togetherness! I completed my Masters of Divinity in 1986 and we completed our ordination requirements so that we could be ordained together on June 14, 1987 in our host church. We concluded the ceremony at which all our parents and siblings were present, by baptizing our sweet daughter, Lisa, who was not quite two months old. After a cake and coffee reception with sweaty hugs and words of encouragement, we retreated with our combined tribes to the unfinished basement of our suburban duplex. We broke (garlic) bread in an expression of blessed communion with steamy lasagna to nourish us on the start of our ordained service.
I never could have guessed how well this calling into ministry would fit me. My father was ordained into the United Church of Christ less than two weeks after the denomination was formed in 1957. He was a career chaplain in the Air Force. We moved every four years or so and worshiped every Sunday in a military chapel. He was a very present father to the six of us while admirably performing his duties to soldiers and their families. I remember my dad saying when I was a teenager that he sometimes couldn’t believe he was paid to do a job he loved so dearly. He and my mother developed deep relationships that spanned geographical distance and years of friendship. I learned that the Body of Christ is found in different places, different buildings, with different people, all of whom are seeking the restorative presence and guidance of Jesus. And He meets us where we are. So, in fact, my easy alliance with the job requirements of pastor came naturally to me.
Garrett was certain, as a boy, that he would become a pastor. On Sunday afternoons, his mother hosted people at their home for a Sunday dinner that had been roasting while the family worshiped. She was the epitome of a gracious hostess. The table was open to any number of different folks: beloved family members and “strays” who were overlooked by others. At the end of the meal, Garrett would instruct the guests to find a seat in the living room. He put on his father’s trench coat and led his own worship service. Ordination, for him, was an expected culmination of his early vocational dreams. In our shared Associate Pastor setting, we divided preaching opportunities, crafted a meaningful youth ministry together and led Bible studies. We sang in the church choir and bowled on the church league. During those first two years Garrett wrestled with the sense that parish ministry was not the right fit for him. After two years he made the difficult decision to leave the vocation of pastor and turn to law. He entered law school—no easy commitment for a father of a one-year-old. This has become his calling. He ministers to the “least of these” by serving as their advocate for disability benefits or immigration privileges. His week often includes tearful hugs from those who learn that the magistrate has granted them SSD benefits that will allow them to make plans that offer hope in their very difficult lives. Garrett’s calling into ministry remained very much intact as he shifted his gifts to a legal career.
What a joy it has been to serve together. On the rare occasion in my 37 years of parish ministry that I was too sick on a Sunday morning to get to church to lead worship, Garrett assembled an impromptu message of encouragement in the place of my sermon. He stepped easily and willingly into the tasks of parish ministry with me and in my stead when needed. My favorite moments have been when we have led worship together—typically with me preaching and him singing. We have one such worship opportunity this summer and his music is always a blessing to those in the congregation.
Like any long-term commitment to walking alongside of others, there is no way to fully anticipate what will be required of you. With my ordination, my journey has been one of increasingly relying on Jesus to give me what is needed to minister to His people. I have not done that perfectly. Very recently I stood at the bedside of a dying hospice patient, prayed with him and his wife, only to realize at the end of the visit that I had been wearing my sunglasses all along! The elusive hospice chaplain at your service! When I acknowledged my inadvertent disguise to the couple, we laughed together. In the Valley of the Shadow of death, where Jesus is particularly present, there can be laughter.
My deepest expression of gratitude for those of you who have been in my care and who have returned that care to my family and me. I thank you for extending grace when I have needed your forgiveness. It is now a treat, after 37 years of sitting separately in the sanctuary, for Garrett and me to sit together. (I always cherished seeing couples settle into the time of the sermon by holding hands or putting their arm about the other!). We have the option now of missing worship on a Sunday morning if need be—something I could only do four times a year as a parish pastor. We relish this stage as we have been immensely grateful for each chapter in our faith pilgrimage!
The mantra I have clung to and shared with countless individuals in the course of my ministry is that God will grant you the deepest desires of your heart.
Amen!
Preaching Life 