Feeling the love

It is a slow process getting settled into my new appointment - not getting lost in town, trying to remember who is who, finding the right time to catch the lunch special at the Frontier, and of course, getting things put away in the house and office... rearranging or moving what was left behind, trying to remember what label meant what on each box, and the ultimate, navigating the new hallway in the dark.

But as stressful as all of that can be, the amount of love that I've felt since I moved here has been amazing. People meeting me or introducing me wherever I am, residents always greeting me with a kind "welcome to town", the folks in my churches going above and beyond to make sure that everything is taken care of. 

It has been seriously amazing!

To give you an idea of some of the caring of this community...

• I had to get an account going so that I can get paid (my church does an automatic transfer of my pay twice a month). Of course, The Bank (yeah, I typed it like that) has rules for opening the account, but because I'm still waiting on my last church to pay me, they let me open the account with just a few bucks. Sure, the fact that the branch manager is a member of my church and the President/CEO of The Bank happened to be in that day doesn't hurt my feelings any, but everyone there was so gracious in helping me get things taken care of.
• My uncle once said (and I've heard it from other clergy as well) that the first people that come rushing to greet you might be the first to push you out the door. I don't think that applies in this case. The first people to come greeting were there to take care of a couple of minor issues around the house. Sure, it was great that they want to take care of their property, but these were things that could have waited a day or two or three. But no, they wanted (and continue to want) to make sure that everything was taken care of so that I could be comfortable living here.
• People have quickly taken me in as "one of their own". I noticed that one of the "round table sessions" take place at the Frontier (The Frontier is a great cafe on one of the highways here), and the County Sheriff is a regular participant. I later stopped by the Sheriff's office to chat with him and find out about some of the in's and out's around the area. A day of two later, I stopped in at The Frontier again for breakfast and there was the Sheriff, welcoming me at the table. Since then, I've become "the game"... a couple of people will wait for choice folks to come in, see if they can get them riled up, and then introduce me at the new Reverend. I wonder if anyone keeps score on how fast a face might turn a little red or how much coffee is spit across the table. Also, if there isn't a "game", people who aren't even one of my church members will make it a point to introduce me to other folks. Again, they take me in as "one of their own".
• While walking around town yesterday during the Independence Day events here, I was wearing a church t-shirt that my secretary gave me (some years ago, a pastor here had church folks volunteering at the movie theater, and had shirts printed to help them stand out). Well, not wanting people to think that I was "passing through" or "just visiting", I wore the shirt. That simple act did, of course, make me more visible, but it also extended the opportunity for folks to come and introduce themselves or add their own "welcome!" My Bishop talks about us pastors being part of the community, but I think that the community wanted me to be a part of them. The only thing I can compare this to would be my first appointment ten years ago at Curtis. So many people said "hello" that I lost track.

Tomorrow I'm going to get up, drive along US 36 about five or six miles, turn up County Road 495 and drive that gravel road just over six miles, then hang a right at the "Prairie Chapel UMC" sign and give my first Message at the 9:00 Service as the pastor of this parish. I'm then doing to drive back to corner of Commercial and Cass to the Oberlin UMC and deliver the Message there at the 10:45 Service. I'll probably be as nervous, or more so, as I have been all week, but I'm sure that everything will be ok.

If you ever find yourself cruising along US 83 or 36, and you find the spot where the two intersect in northwest Kansas, stop by one the place here. I'm sure you won't be disappointed.

A decade of tears & cheers

I'm coming up on my ten year anniversary as a pastor, and the day will be marked by my official start at a new appointment in northwest Kansas.

Thinking back, I've had lot of ups and downs, shouts of joy and painful crying, celebratory hugs and sympathetic hugs.

I started out ten years ago with three funerals in my first two weeks - Opal, Carolyn, and Bob. Three saints that helped me cut my teeth, and fast.
In the funerals I've done, I can't escape the memories of Lela, a community matriarch, or Gary, known for his heroic actions before his death, or Gary, who had a goal of watching his daughter down the aisle no matter what it took, or Gladys, who died while going to help someone - something that she always did, or Harold, who no matter what differences he had, would still help someone if it was really needed, or Wade, who loved life and kept humor in everything, even if it meant taunting a teacher about football teams or clicking his wheelchair while a certain pastor was preaching.
This list is no way complete - it's only a piece of some of those who taught others about celebrating life to the fullest, all the way to the glory of God.

I've also shared in so many joys, such as the first baptism - his name is Logan, and it was on Sept 11, 2004. There was also the time I did an immersion baptism of three kids and the entire congregation coming to celebrate the event. There was also times when I was baptizing a child and parent, or siblings. There is even the time I baptized Rich, fourteen hours before he passed away.

Each wedding has been a joy in it's own self. The mom who had her children walk her down the aisle, or as I mentioned before, the dad who successfully walked his daughter down the aisle, or the couple who faced adversity to make their day an even more special one.

I've seen lots of love in my churches, and of course, there have been some downers - folks who have let anxiety or rumors or whatever demons get in the way of Kingdom-building. But love always prevails - the love of some colleagues who have helped me in some dark days, or the love shared with cancer fighters, or the love of my child in the congregation who has helped everyone remember what Christmas is all about.

Looking back, it's has been a long ten years, and a quick ten years. It has been a time of loving and caring, bearing one another's pains and sharing in our joys.

So here's to the next ten years, and the tears and cheers that it will bring.

And the sadness sets in...

This is crunch-week.
It's the final wire to packing, moving, unpacking, getting settled into a new community, and all while the wave of emotions topple me over. It's happening while I'm excited for a fresh start in a great area as the new pastor of a very country church and a larger city church; while I'm sad to depart from many terrific people and some that I can call good friends; while I'm overwhelmed with the headaches of packing, ensuring that the right stuff is packed appropriately and labeled correctly for the moving company; while answering the phone to various well-wishes and goodbyes.

I did get a chance to meet my new secretary last week. We had a great conversation, hopefully figured out a manageable relationship, and me seeing that this person likes to have a system so that everything gets done in a way to make her job easier.
I like that. It means that all I have to do is "fill in the blank and let her be". It means that I can spend some time getting settled in, visiting some folks, and getting things unpacked around the house and office.

I also got to meet the groundskeeper for the church, a very nice guy with a plan and the best way to get things done for all people involved. I'll hear from him when he needs access to my house or I'll see him go through the church to get to whatever he needs to the sprinklers, I'll see him when he's mowing and trimming, and other than that, as long as everything is done, we're all good.

As excited as I am, I'm also sad to depart from some great people. These are the people that I can truly say as made an impact for the good for my pastoral ministry.
There are always a couple of people like this, and as I think back over my ten years as a pastor, I can still tell you their names, their family, and somewhat more about them. In comparison, I sometimes forget my name.

I'm also sad to leave some people who are fairly new to the ministry I've had in Pierce & Osmond. I think back to the boy who spent over a year in the hospital after a transplant, only to have the transplant removed. Because of his extended stay, I had to do his baptism in his hospital room, and while every baptism is special to me in some way, his also had a unique twist to it. I'm also sad to leave a few kids who started coming to the Pierce church this past Fall and continued to come because, as their mom put it, "we like Rev Kev" (but I think they were more fond of my dog, Dingo). When they came to the Farewell Reception on my last Sunday afternoon, we must have hugged a dozen times.

There are also two or three couples who recently started to come to one of my churches, all with intentions of a future wedding there by some silly guy who they liked. In the short time that I got to know them, I've grown very fond of them and excited for the new lives ahead of them. I'm going to miss them.

And while all of this stuff is bouncing around in my head, I'm overwhelmed by the finished boxes, the partial, waiting to be filled, boxes, and the trash that has accumulated, compliments of the "well, maybe I really don't need to save this" concept that seems to be all so evident this week. Thank goodness that I can rent a dumpster from the city for a few days to make things easier for the garbage guys tomorrow.

All of this is sad, depressing, and can raise my anxiety to a Defcon 1. But I also have to pause and thank every single person who has been there for me, in the thick and the thin, in the easy and in the rough, in the down and in the joys.

So with a sad but thankful heart, I say "Blessings" as I go, and "Blessings" as I arrive.

Another chapter

I've been involved with public service since before I graduated high school. It started with being an Explorer Scout with the Pickerington Police & Fire Explorers, learning and taking part in various law enforcement and firefighting responsibilities. When I was in the US Air Force, I volunteer in different response jobs as well as being on a community Search and Rescue team. While I was in the Air Force, I took my first Emergency Medical Technician training, continuing the education all of these years. I've also been on a couple of volunteer fire departments on the past decade.
I don't mention these things to brag - I'm saying that I've worked for 35 years to do something that is about as dear to my heart as pastoring is... giving to help or assist others.

One things I've learned in my years is that the best teams get things done when everyone on the team, from the highest in command to the newest rookie, work as one unit, recognizing the gifts and talents and ideas of everyone, and when the command knows the limitation of everyone, especially themselves.
When people work as one, things can run like a well-oiled machine. When someone ignores the links of the chain (bottom and top) time, money, and resources become stretched and can (and many times will) break.

Sure, I understand that people want to help, and it can be frustrating when one is waiting for information to be passed along, but as with just about every emergency, a team cannot go in until they know what's going on. A dispatcher gets as much information before rolling the crews. A hazardous material response team won't go into an area until they have all the details - including the temperature, wind direction & speed, and sometimes humidity and water level. You might even take note that the haz-mat team won't go into certain areas until they stop, get all of the information, suit up for the necessary conditions, and then team-up again.

Over the past few years, I've had the opportunity to be part of different emergency groups to provide assistance, but I also have come to realize that as the responder rule goes - You have to take care of yourself first before you can care for others - I have to reevaluate my roles. Positions I've held as caused me to look again and command structures as well as the ability of others to listen and assist instead of "trying to be in charge".

As I turn a new chapter in my life - taking a new pastoral appointment and moving to a somewhat new region, it's time to do what *I* have to do. I know my abilities and limitations, and I know when to stay out of danger. So it's time to step back from the fire.

A dusty corner of my mind

I read a blog by Lisa Jakub a little while ago that talked about her trip to a Book Expo in New York and meeting James Frey, someone who Oprah Winfrey discounted because some things in Frey's Memoir weren't accurate.

Her blog seemed to center around memories, and how we may remember things as they were, or remember them as we think it happened. She gave an example of being interviewed once and getting a tidbit a little off, being corrected by her mom. The center statement I feel she was trying to make was that it's not exactly *what* we remember, so much as it is *how we put what we remember to something good*.

I can relate - probably all too well. When I was taking some classes at the Seminary north of Columbus, Ohio, I took advantage of some sightseeing. After all, I grew up near there.
Sure, there are a lot of different things, the traffic is a lot worse than I recall, and the growth is amazing, but still, all of that, even though it has changed, is a part of me.
Like when I drove to Groveport Ohio to go to church. I could drive down the roads in Groveport to find the church that I went to as a kid, but to get to Groveport was a different experience.

One day I mentioned about going to Bucyrus to a bratwurst festival. It was great - the streets filled with people trying different brats and such, the smell of grilled brats through the town, and the simple "small town street fair" atmosphere. It all reminded me of when I was a kid and my family drove there once... I remember sitting along the sidewalk eating my brat with my brothers and sister. The difference was I *wasn't* at a festival. At best, dad must have driven through the town and we stopped to get lunch.
Maybe it was the idea of having a brat, or the smell of the grilled brats, or the old small town atmosphere that jogged my memory as it did.

As I am getting ready to move to a new appointment, a new place with a lot more people to remember each week, and learning a different community and way of life, I often stop to think back of how I've gotten here. The different people who have helped shape my life, those who probably couldn't wait for me to move, and some who will always be in my heart because of the impact they made on my life. I go through old boxes as I repack some things, considering all that I've done and what more I can do in my new setting.
I even found an envelope from a young gal in my last appointment who was afraid that I would forget about her (for the record, I never forgot her).

Sure, there are some facts of my past that I might not have exactly right, and there are some that others remember quite differently. How we remember things is connected to why we remember them. But one thing is for sure - I have my memories, and a lot of good ones at that.

With joy and with sorrow - I'm moving.

This morning was one of the toughest mornings of my life. Sure, Sundays can seem like "any other Sunday" when there isn't a baptism or Confirmation or Holiday, but when I've grown fond for folks at my Pierce & Osmond churches, there are those "bitter sweat" moments that can leave me totally exhausted.
I was offered the opportunity to move to a new parish - the Oberlin & Prairie Chapel UMCs in northwest Kansas - and even though ever church, big or small, has unique gifts and talents, the best way to describe my new setting will be in the response I gave when one gentleman asked "So, you're jumping ship?"
I replied "No, just being moved to a larger vessel."

Below is the letter that I read to the folks at Pierce and Osmond this morning.
Please keep the people of those churches, as well as Oberlin & Prairie Chapel, in your thoughts and prayers as we all enter into a "Working Transition". Also please think of the Appointive Cabinet of the Great Plains Conference as they continue their work of discernment for the future of Pierce & Osmond and other churches.

To my Church Family:

For the past almost three years together, we have seen excellent times in our parish. Yes, we have lost saints to the home that Christ has made in heaven, but we have received new family members. There have been baptisms, as well as professions of faith, and couples have been married here. 

This is the life of the Church and we must keep on moving towards doing God’s work.                                                                                          

I have seen progress, as well as opportunities for spiritual growing and maturity. We need to continually grow in our faith, and be Christ-like in all we say and do, through the discipline of our lives for others. This is our call and duty as followers of Jesus Christ.

United Methodist pastors follow an itinerant system, which helps put pastors and churches together to best utilize the gifts and graces of each to the best of their abilities for the kingdom of God. And so today I am announcing to you that I will be the new pastor of the Oberlin and Prairie Chapel United Methodist Churches in northwest Kansas, as of July 1, 2014.

My love for your churches is something that I will carry with me forever. May each one of you continue to grow in your spiritual journey as Christians, and as United Methodists, by the reading  and studying the Holy Scriptures, keeping to our many years of rich heritage and tradition, and following  the Book of Discipline and continuing the heritage of the United Methodist Church. I pray that you will continue to experience God, and let yourself experience the power of the Holy Spirit, by working, shaping, and changing you to be Christ-like in all you do. 

Keep moving toward progress so that others may come and find a place of worship, to find a home church family, and to “make disciples for Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world,” which is the mission of the church. 

 

Prayer is God’s most powerful tool and gift of love to offer for one another, and so…

·        Pray for the cabinet as they continue a work of discernment for this church.

·        Pray each other.

·        Pray for your churches and all the churches.

·        Pray for my family during this transition.

Until I leave you next month, we will continue on the same path of doing God’s work and moving forward. There is much to be done, and doing God’s work never ceases.

May God’s peace be with each and every one of you now and forever. Amen.

 

Read to the Osmond & Pierce UMCs on May 18, 2014

Thanks to Rev. Max Clayton and Rev Mark Chambers for the opportunity to glean from their instruction to write this letter.

Meeting God in a grove

 

I'm an anxious person.
Or more like "bouncing off the walls" anxious.

I have had panic attacks, anxiety shots, and worrisome moments for years. Thinking back, I recall moments in high school of feeling "odd" and yet, I couldn't figure it out. As a teenager feeling, I also couldn't tell people. The first question that was asked of me was "what are you on?" Being someone who can honestly say that I never tried any drugs or underage drinking, I became defensive at any hint of wrongdoing (yet now as a volunteer Fire/Rescue person, I ask the same question of my patients).
When I would have panic attacks as a teen, I don't recall any reason to be panicked. Life was ok, my grades weren't suffering, I got along with most of my teachers, I enjoyed volunteering my time on a Police & Fire Explorer Post, I had a great girlfriend, and my life was aiming towards the US Air Force.
But I still had a "panic rush".

Nowadays, things like "anxiety attacks" may be more acceptable in society. It's something that healthcare professionals can identify and treat. It's something that isn't so bad when the panicked has to say "give me a moment" or "I need to step back".
Unless you're in the public eye.

Just over a year ago, I had the honor of introducing a comedian in front of about 150 people - and I knew a lot of these people. My Bishop and his wife, my colleagues, folks from my churches and other churches around the region.
But I've stood in front of more people than that, even with the Press in the mix, to officiate funerals. One funeral was even noted worldwide because of the events surrounding the passing of person. Yet I was able to function through the Service, and even gave a few short interviews afterwards.
But as I stood in front of those people that weren't going to judge me or critique me (they were there to see the comedian), I panicked. And I panicked so hard that hands shook, almost violently.

I recently started looking into meditation techniques - something like Yoga or Yogi or Yogurt or whatever it's called. And it's not an easy search. There are so many different ideas, opinions, thoughts, and suggestions given by more "professionals" or "experts" than I care to count.
This also raises my anxiety. What is best?  Who is best? And so on.

But my greatest treatment is in a word from Scripture... In the letter to the Philippians it says "Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life." (4:6-7 Msg)

Pray.
Prayer.
Letting God know.

Yeah, "too simple", right?
But prayer is that simple. It's talking to God. It's having a chat with the gracious One. It's have a moment with the Almighty.

Years ago I lived near an orange grove that had a large boulder on one end of it. I would go out to that grove, sit upon the boulder, look out across the horizon over the trees and mountains, and talk to God. Just me and "the big guy". One on One.
Sometimes I had so much to say 'thank you' for, and other times God got quite the earful of my whining, moaning, and groaning about whatever popped in my head. And no matter what, I was free to say what I needed to say, about to say what I wanted to say, and every time walk away with a sense of peace.

Life sometimes seems more hectic now than it did 15-20 years ago. Maybe because of my "job" now, or because I'm nearing 50, or because I don't have my boulder in the grove. But I always know that I have a Rock that I can go to - God.

And so I live on.