My Dear Friend,
Congratulations on your ordination! I received the invitation in the mail several weeks ago and didn't get a card sent on time. I thought about you on your ordination day -- the parade of red stoles, the exhortations, the weight of the hands on your head and shoulders. You'll be a fine pastor; I knew it ever since the days we worked together in campus ministry at Wartburg College.
I've thought of you many times as you start your work at your new parish on the East Coast. I know what it's like to move halfway across the country to a place with no family and friends. I think about your first days, weeks and months at your new church. I think of my own first days at my first call. There are so many things you already know and so many things that your people will teach you. They will teach you how to be their pastor.
Your congregation will be curious about you, your husband and your children. You may think this will end, but it will not. They will want to know who you are, where you are from, what you like to do and where you have been. They will invite you to their homes. They will bring you small gifts from time to time. You will be grateful. Sometimes they will ask you questions you don't want to answer. You will smile and say, "Why do you ask?" They want to know who you are but they also want to know if you will love them.
You will love your congregation, of this I am sure. You will love them all, though you will love some of them differently than others. You will love them but you will sometimes need a break. You will love them but sometimes they will break your heart. You will love them but some of them will leave and some of them will die. You will preside at their baptisms, confirmations, weddings and funerals. When you stand beside them at the funeral home over the bodies of their loved ones (or over their bodies) you will weep, on the inside or the outside. This will not get easier the longer you are with them; it will get harder.
Some things will get easier. You will get better at preaching, leading worship, making home and hospital visits and leading Bible studies. Some of these things you will be able to do in your sleep. Some of these will still make you nervous, but they will get easier. You will feel like you were born for such a time as this. You will feel like God has called you to be right here, right now, with these people.
Some things will get harder. There will be conflict around money, no matter if you have too much or too little. There will be conflict with staff, other pastors and with church members. Someone will be unhappy with something that you do. This will probably happen more than you know but you will not always hear about. You will have to work very hard at avoiding triangulation. You will remind people again and again that if they have a problem with another person, they should go to that person, not vent to everyone else about that person.
Some of them will not like each other. Some of them will carry grudges against each other that last for decades. Some of them are still wounded from a previous pastor. Some of them are still deeply attached to a previous pastor. Many of them are grieving over the church that used to be. Many of them do not know they are grieving for the church that used to be. Many of them want to know that the church will be okay and you will not be able to make any promises.
You will hear people's stories. You will learn about their lives,
upbringings, faith stories, memories, regrets, confessions, joys and
sorrows. You will be astounded at their deep faith in times of trial.
You will be shocked at some of what you hear. You will say, "Hmm," and
"I see" or "Tell me more" but inside you will be quaking. You will walk
into hospital rooms where the news is all bad and you will sit with
people while chemo pours into their veins. You will be the non-anxious presence. You will watch someone die. You
make the sign of the cross on the foreheads of those who have just dead. You will think you cannot bear
it but you will, and with grace.
You will make changes in the parish. You will make some changes based on logistics. You will make some changes based on theology. You will make some changes after deep and careful listening to concerns over a period of many months. It doesn't matter why you made the changes or how many people you consulted. Your people (whom you love) will hate the changes immediately and lament the sorry future of this church. Months later they will tell you how much they love the changes or forget how it used to be. You will love your people anyway.
You will make mistakes. You will put off visiting someone and they will die. You will forget to acknowledge a death in someone's family and they will be hurt. You will say something unkind and someone will hear it. You will complain. You will mess up something in worship. You will blow up. You will melt down. You will be human. You will have to ask for forgiveness. You will be forgiven.
You will worry about the future of your church and the future of the Lutheran church. You will wonder if you did the right thing with your life and wonder if you should have been an English teacher like your mother always told you. You will wonder if you are leading your people in the right way. You will wonder if you are doing what God wants. You will wonder if your sermons are proclaiming a word that people can hear. You will wonder if your people will stick around when there are changes in the parish or when times get tough. You will wonder if the message of grace that you proclaim comes with it an equal measure of responsibility. You will wonder if you should ask more of people.
You will wonder, but you will rest on God's promises. Sometimes you will be the last person out of the church building and you will look at the cross and think about Jesus. You will think about His promises to never leave us alone, to never leave us abandoned. You will think about the power of love that is stronger than death. You will think about the Word of God that cannot be silenced. You will think about the power that is hidden in weakness, the weakness of suffering, cross and grave. You will think about that empty tomb.
My dear friend, you will be a wonderful pastor. God will use all of your strengths and all of your weaknesses. God is holding you. I am praying for you. I can't wait to hear all about it.
Your friend in Christ,
Lisa
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