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March 30, 2008
Following Jesus
John 21:15-25
Well, here we
are: the end of our journey together.
This will be a brief message. As with our Gospel lesson, the time for teaching and preaching is over. Now is a time both to reflect on where we have been and to seek encouragement for the road ahead. It’s not my intention to suggest that there is any similarity between my leaving as your pastor and Jesus’ final days with his disciples as they are described in our lesson this morning. But perhaps there is some direction or comfort to be found in reminding ourselves of the promises that the Lord gave to his friends and followers.
One of those
lessons is, perhaps, the reminder that although people are important, and the
Gospel gets carried forward in personal relationships, it’s really all about
the Gospel. God’s plan will get worked out, the kingdom will advance, often in
spite of our efforts, and surely without depending on anyone person to lead
them. So while it is a sad time of parting for us, my hope and confidence is
that what ever the future holds for BRC, or for Carol and me, it will be worked
out in the way that will be the right and best way for the kingdom.
As we look back over our time together, there are surely things that could have been done differently; times when we did not give our best; times when we made it about persons and not the Gospel. We are human beings. We’re not perfect. But we are asked to love Jesus, and to give ourselves to him. And in doing so, we can know with Peter that we are forgiven and accepted for who we are. And in that knowledge, we can love and forgive one another as well.
And surely
there were times when we were the church in the fullest meaning of that word –
times when we came together around families in need; times when we reached out
to our community with helping hands and resources; times when we made a
difference in the lives of God’s people.
Following
Jesus always means that we cannot decide where that journey will take us. There
will be times, Jesus warned Peter, when you will be lead where you do not want
to go. We are called to listen and follow, and sometimes that will mean leaving
the place where we are comfortable. In the account of the exodus of the
Israelites from
Then make poles of acacia wood and overlay them with gold. Insert the poles into the rings on the sides of the chest to carry it. The poles are to remain in the rings of this ark, they are not to be removed from it.
The poles, you see, were to be used to carry the ark before the people whenever they were directed by God to move from one place to another, and they were to be prepared to make that move whenever God decided. Therefore, the poles were to remain in the rings of the ark to remind them that they were always sojourners in the land – never permanent residents; and so that when the command came to move, they would be ready to move.
When we
answer the call to be servants of God, disciples of Jesus, we surrender
ourselves to his plan for his creation and for our lives, and agree to be
willing to live as sojourners in the land. This also means that we don’t get
to chose where we will make our camp. It became clear to me over the last year
that God was calling us to move on. The destination is not yet clear.
On the one
hand, it doesn’t seem like over eleven years since Carol and I arrived in
In 1996, Kodak, although showing signs of weakening, was still the major employer and few really imagined it would become the much humbled company it is today, or that we could survive the painful changes that have been brought about for so many families. And this is surely no longer the same congregation. We have said goodbye to people whose lives as members spanned nearly the entire history of the congregation itself; and in turn we have welcomed others whose life experience is much different than our own. All of life is filled with such sorrows and joys.
It is the
particular privilege of your pastor to share not only in the ebb and flow of the
life of the congregation, but in the very intimate moments and milestones of
individual lives as well. Some of those milestones are occasions of great joy:
the birth of children and their baptisms; weddings, and anniversaries. Other
times are occasions of pain and sorrow: prayers around hospital beds in times of
life-threatening illness or injury; counseling families that are falling apart;
family vigils at the bedside at the time of death; conducting funeral services
for the benefit of those who remain behind.
We have
experienced all those things over the years together and they make parting
particularly poignant. For me, this also represents the end of fulltime parish
ministry which has been my life for the last 27 years. Richard Lischer, who now
teaches at
“Unlike
the therapeutically trained cleric, Erich did not compulsively insist on being a
friend or pal to his parishioners. He was not, as one of my friends says of
Protestant ministers in general, ‘a quivering mass of availability.’ He did
not personalize his every act of ministry. Unlike ministers who make a career of
getting along with people, Erich’s approach was to do his duty, and let the
duties symbolize something larger and more important than his own
personality.”[1]
For good or
bad, I find something of myself in that description. Some in today’s culture
wish for more. But from the many words of affirmation and affection you have
shared over these last weeks, I am humbled by the relationships that we have
clearly felt as mutual and caring. It is in times like today that one realizes
what a burden and what a privilege it is to presume to carry the mantel of
pastor. I thank God, and I thank you, for allowing me to have been that person
in this community of his people.
Rev. Dr. Eugene E. Roberts
