A Life Worth Living

At the cabinet shop where I work, the boss frequents the shop and is often engaged in what some of the senior cabinet makers are doing, sometimes being quite harsh in his criticism and concerns.  I largely fly under the radar screen.

I mused the other day that either I'm that good, that he rarely has anything to say about my work, or that irrelevant.  Its that latter possibility that is unsettling.

One of my favorite contemporary songs, is a song that Pat used to sing at my first parish by Steve Green, the chorus of which is:

Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful
May the fires of our devotion light their way
May the footprints that we leave
Lead them to believe
And the lives we live inspire them to obey
Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful

For me, one of the driving forces in my life has been simply "to have made a difference".  Sometimes I need a reminder of the difference that I have made in the lives of the people I have served.  The actual impact of our ministry is often intangible.  In the cabinet shop I can step back and look at what I've accomplished that day.  Even take a picture of it.  Not so in ministry.

One of the things I have done is kept a file that contains the cards I've received from parishioners over the years.  These words of appreciation that they have shared with me can sustain me during tough times.  In each of their lives, in a least some small way, I've made a difference, at least significant enough that they took the time to write a note and say so.  I also drive by Luther Park, the senior housing ministry I helped build, and have a very visible reminder of the difference that I made.

Is it ego?  Well, of course, to some extent it is.  But to another extent it is simply a  matter of desiring meaning and purpose in one's life.

Since Dad died, death seems much closer than it did before.  All four of Karla and my parents have now died, and we are officially the 'older generation'.  On a more immediate level, retirement is now within sight, though it may be another ten years or so away.  I keep getting notices from AARP wondering why I haven't signed up yet.  I'm reviewing our potential Social Security benefits, and our pensions, and all that good stuff that goes with preparation.

And I wonder what's left to do?

I waiver back and forth.

My manic side wants more than anything else to have yet another crusade, another major agenda, something more.  I look at the  time I have left prior to retirement and hope for the opportunity to surpass that which I've previously done.  Perhaps it is ego that drives this part of me.  Measuring one's life by the legacy one leaves.  And perhaps it is a more humble aspiration, to simply be a contributing part of the team.

The depressed side of my brain resonates with Jesus' words from the cross, "It is finished".  For the most part my life's work is nearing completion.  It is was it has been, for better or worse.

In between those poles, lies a contentment that simply is at peace with the transition that is taking place.  I may have the opportunity in ministry to contribute more toward the greater good.  And, it may also be a time to look forward to retirement and a different way of living life and achieving meaning and purpose.

I wonder about retirement.  One of the casualties of the last ten years or so of my life has been a loss of a rewarding and engaging 'private life'.  The last five years at First Lutheran were so dominated by the development of the senior housing that hobbies and leisure time activities were lost.  And then came disability and the inability to engage in anything, followed by my current load that leaves little time or energy for anything.

What will make life enjoyable and engaging in the  years ahead?

Grandchildren.  We have one.  We look forward to more.  Is there any higher calling than that?  To make a difference in the life of a child?

Earlier in my life, hunting, fishing, golf, and woodworking as an avocation, not a vocation, filled my off time.  Right now, there is little time for any of that.  But maybe in the future. . .

I also realize that my current call to serve at Otis Orchards maybe a very significant part of my ministry when all is said and done.  I began ministry with the hopes of becoming a  mission developer.  If I could finish my career redeveloping Peace Lutheran it would be a fulfillment of that first desire.  And the part time nature of that call means that it could continue into retirement.

Friendships.  One of the more difficult things about our current circumstances is that we continue to live in Sandpoint, and have developed relationships with many people here over the years. but, because I'm now the 'former pastor' there is an expectation that I limit my interactions with my former parish.  Some of our closest friends are leaving for the coast and so we are left wondering about interpersonal relationships here.  There is another aspect to this, a steep learning curve for pastors in retirement.  Throughout our careers ministry has formed the basis for the majority of our personal relationships.  Take the ministry away and you must now find different avenues for interpersonal engagement.

I'm also reminded of my psychologist's concerns as he retires.  There is an intimacy that comes with the vocation that is hard to replace.  Though our vocation focused on the other, the truth is that this intimacy fed our souls as well.

I must add, that above all else, I am blessed to have a wife whose stood by me through thick and thin, and whose companionship is itself a major part of what gives life meaning and purpose.

I remember a hymn, that perhaps is a good prayer to conclude with:

Jesus still lead on
Till our rest be won;
And although the way be cheerless,
We will follow calm and fearless;
Guide us by your hand
To our fatherland.

If the way be drear,
If the foe be near,
Let no faithless fears overtake us,
Let not faith and hope forsake us;
Safely past the foe
To our home we go.

Living Icon

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.