May it be found, when my time on earth is done, that in some way my life has made a difference.
And may that difference be a bit more substantial than, and perhaps even justify, the carbon footprint that my mere existence has left behind.
This quest to find purpose and meaning in life has captivated my soul for a long time. It drove me into the study of theology and philosophy during my collegiate years. It affected my decision to enter the seminary. And it underlies every decision that I have made regarding call and vocation.
One of the struggles I've had with my 'alternative vocation', that of being a woodworker, is that I've rarely found the meaning and purpose that I crave. This hasn't stopped me, mind you. One of the lasting legacies I have left in many of the parishes I have served are the woodworking projects that I undertook while there.
And yet that is unfulfilling.
In contrast to that are the words spoken to me by a parishioner that I did not previously know, that was cleaning St. Elizabeth's Lutheran Church in Ekalaka when my wife and I arrived there to deliver the chancel furnishings I made for their new building. When I first served St. Elizabeth's they were a preaching point out of Plevna, and on a given Sunday there might be ten in worship. One of the highlights of my ministry happened on Easter Sunday, when we baptized nine people, including three generations of one family. I'm not sure what I did other than trying to faithfully preach the Word each Sunday. Before I left we were able to organize St. Elizabeth's into a congregation of the ELCA.
It was over ten years later when Karla and I returned with the altar, baptismal font, credence table and pulpit. But when we did, this woman, new to the congregation since I left, was there at the church when we arrived.
"You are a 'living icon' around here."
Those words touched me.
I've thought about them since. And what they must mean. An icon. A picture through which one looks to see the Divine. In the truest sense of the word, a living icon is not simply one who is greatly admired, but one through whom people were able to see something greater beyond.
"Sir, we wish to see Jesus."
That is the hope, that somehow as people look not at us, but through us, they might see Jesus. And in that, I, and I would imagine every pastor, find meaning and purpose.
At my current congregation in Otis Orchards I've been experimenting with using Facebook to reach out into the community and share the Message. Boosting a post typically yields about a thousand page views, many likes, and even a few shares. But with it also comes some interesting comments.
"F____ off!" was the comment. I deleted it, and banned the sender (both to prohibit such comments on my post but also to prevent my posts from being sent to him, which he clearly didn't appreciate.) But then this morning, he somehow was able to post another comment: "Again I say, f____ off!"
I was taken aback by the comments. I'm not here to offend. Or maybe I am, if the Gospel so offends.
What I've been thinking about this morning is that perhaps my words that elicited such a response from this young man, had more of an impact on him than they do for a parishioner whose response is often a simple "Nice sermon, Pastor." And perhaps banning him and his comments was not the right thing to do. Perhaps attempting to engage him might have been better.
But in the end, it will not be my efforts that make a difference in this young man's life. I can only pray that the Holy Spirit may use the message he heard which elicited such a strong response, to make a difference in that young man's life. That would delight me. But I'm not overly optimistic.
"You are a living icon around here." And "F____ off!"
Well, in the end I guess that is what we can expect. Deep gratitude for our ministry and outright rejection, sometimes, at one and the same time.
