Partners in Ministry—Farewell Sermon
Philippians 1:3-11
Belmont UMC—June 11, 2017
It has been a period of reminiscing as I have thought about this Sunday, my last Sunday as an active pastor after 43 years. I was recalling a phone I received my District Superintendent when I was 19 years old. A pastor of two point charge had become ill and the DS wanted me to become the supply pastor of one of the churches for a time. I said, “I’ve never preached a sermon before.” He said, “It’s Thursday so you have a few days to figure it out. Plus you’re young and cute so they will cut you a lot of slack.” When I was the associate pastor at Forest Hills, the older ladies would refer to me as their “little pastor” even though I was taller than the senior pastor. I assumed this was because I was incredibly cute. (I fear my cuteness has worn off over the years.)
In 1977, when I was 22 years old, the session of the Tennessee Annual Conference was held here at Belmont UMC and there at the chancel rail I was ordained as a deacon and received as a probationary member of the Conference. Thirty years later Bishop Dick Wills would call me and ask me if I would consider coming as the pastor of this church. He asked me to come and meet with the Staff Parish Relations Committee to determine if we felt “comfortable” with each other.
Kathryn and I were both invited to meet with the Committee. Mike O’Neil was the chair and as I recall the members present were Linda Bernhardt, Lynn Taylor, June Batsel (lay leader), Tommy Lewis, David Henry, and Mary Boyd (a fine group of church members). And I remember the meeting well.
We met in the IrisRoom and I was asked to sit in a particular chair, a wood framed chair with upholstered back and seat. It was an antique and rickety and I tend to fidget quite a bit (especially if I’m nervous) and every move let out an angry creak. So I had to sit very still but my nervous energy was transferred to my upper body and in sudden move I managed to pull the arm off the chair. I quickly popped it back on, but Kathryn leaned over and said in a loud whisper, “They aren’t going to want you if you break their furniture.” We have replaced that old furniture with some sturdier stock, but my first week here I brought some wood glue and glued the arm back on the chair.
The next afternoon the Nashville District Superintendent, Garry Speich, called me to say that the Committee did indeed feel comfortable with me. And so we began a journey together that would last ten wonderful years.
The night before my first Sunday I had a nightmare and I dreamed that my cincture that ties around my waist fell around my feet and I fell down these steps and I was trapped in a mass of roping and couldn’t get out.
I found my notes from that first Sunday. At the top of the notes I wrote the word, “Breathe!” so I would remember to breathe. On that first Sunday I talked about grief and anxiety. The grief that comes when we leave a place, grief that I am feeling this morning but grief also being felt east of here in Tullahoma, where Reverend Paul Purdue will be bidding his congregation farewell. And there is anxiety about coming to new places or entering into the new territory of retirement.
So I want to share a few words with you that I have written in letter form:
Borrowing from the words of Paul, “I’m thankful for all of you every time I pray, and it is always a prayer full of joy. I’m glad for the way you have been my partners in the ministry of the gospel. . .”
Dear friends, I am so thankful for all of you and the many who have already offered their loving farewells to me. On our first Sunday I used Bishop Ken Carder’s metaphor of the church as a place where we hold each and we hold each other accountable. We hold each other in love with our presence, with our literal embraces and things like casseroles. We show up for each other. Over ten years of visiting people in need I often discover that you have already been there.
You have had held our family with much love and we have often been on the receiving end of your ministry. When Kathryn’s mother died a few years ago, you were here for us in so many ways and you held us together. We have many friendships here. We have felt loved and we are so blessed.
You have held me accountable by your example, by insisting on the best from me, by caring so deeply for our world and by your commitment to follow the example of Jesus. You set the bar high for all who come here, and you raise the expectations of what it means to be a Christ follower. I am a better person and a better pastor because of you.
Dear friends, I want to encourage you to continue to be a church that makes the practices of worship and prayer priorities. As a spiritually discerning community this is what sets us apart and reminds us that we cannot do this work on our own strength. Pray for one another and continue to worship in the beautiful manner that is soBelmont.
Another thing that setsBelmont apart is that you have insisted on being a community that welcomes everyone—no one is excluded. And that has become an important part of your identity outside of these walls. You find joy in making a place at God’s table for people who have been excluded from other tables, for people who have been deeply wounded by the world and even by other communities of faith. You gently and lovingly make a healing place for everyone. Never stop being that church!
I pray for you that you will continue to be an important part of the collective conscience of this community, this state, and this nation. During one of my first years here a young, pregnant, frightened Hispanic woman, named Juana Villeges, was pulled over in Berry Hill for a supposed traffic violation (the charges were later found to be untrue). She was undocumented and was put in the Metro Jail and later be shackled to a bed in GeneralHospital while in labor to deliver her baby. This church and many others rose up and said to our city leaders, “No, this is morally wrong and we will not have this in our city.”
When other people in other places were shouting angry threats at Muslim neighbors, you organized a peace walk from here to the Islamic Center of Nashville on 12 South. We expected a few dozen people to walk with us in a show of love and solidarity and someone counted over 250 people (Christians, Jews and Muslims) who gathered to witness to our community.
The coming years may require that same resolve and courage. Do not be afraid when the situation calls for action. Do not be afraid to insist on justice and the way of God’s kingdom on this earth. Continue to be a voice for the voiceless and seek ways to meet the needs of persons without permanent housing, to be advocates for the poor and the marginalized. We must advocates for affordable housing in Nashville.
Dear ones, continue to tell the truth in a culture of denial and in what many call a post-truth world. Speak truth to power, as John the Baptist and Jesus taught us. And yes, it can be hard to do but it is our calling as Christ followers.
I pray that you will continue to be a place that welcomes and empowers young adults. I spend a lot of time with 20 and 30 year olds, mentoring and listening. They give me hope for the church and for the world. There are two things that this younger generation will insist on: They want to be a part of a church that is making a difference in the world. They want their time and their resources to be used to change the world. And they will insist on authenticity. They know when something is phony or just for show. Those two things are more important to them than worship styles or anything else. We can learn a lot from this younger generation.
Dear friends, there are lots of important institutional things about being a church. I am thinking of budgets and building maintenance and paperwork. And they are important to our work. (I won’t miss the paperwork.)
But I want to remind you of something I said last November. We must reclaim our roots as People of the Way and remember that the church is a movement, not an institution. This movement is about the work of the kingdom and we are people on the move. We are never allowed to rest on our laurels or spin our wheels in institutional maintenance and survival because we are on the move! Go home and tell your friends and family that you have just come from a movement meeting and there is no stopping your church.
I shared these words of Brian McLaren last year and I want to share them again. This is McLaren’s description of the movement:
“It feels like an uprising. An uprising of hope, not hate. An uprising armed with love, not weapons. An uprising that shouts a joyful promise of life and peace, not angry threats of hostility and death. It’s an uprising of outstretched hands, not clenched fists. It’s the ‘someday’ we have always dreamed of, emerging in the present, rising up among us and within us. It’s so different from what we expected—so much better. This is what it means to be alive, truly alive. This is what it means to be en route, walking the road to a new and better day.” (We Make the Road by Walking, p. 170)
And finally, dear friends, love your new pastor, Paul Pudue, and welcome him and his family with open arms. Allow him to be your pastor in every way. Kathryn and I will go away and give Paul, Connie, Caleb and Lewis space to make their home with you. If you are as kind and loving to them, as you have been to us, all will be well and this church will continue to grow and flourish.
And our family will continue to pray for you and thank God every time we mention you in our prayers. God bless!
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