I thought this blog oughta start with sabbatical.
After 12 years of ministry….ministry that has spanned the country, the spectrum, and even denominational lines…I will be joining my husband for a time of sabbatical at the end of the year. And that’s a big deal. It’s no small thing, to be afforded – trusted with – a three month time of breathing and seeking.
But as it turns out, I wonder if this pilgrimage oughta start with the church. Afterall, for all it’s imperfections, it is what draws us together and gives us a universal language, enabling us to give voice to the journey.
So let me start here. Now. With the church. A church. A little thing in the middle of a little town, surrounded by a big city. Both beautiful and daunting. Life-giving and dying.
This is a church that is closing.
And I have been their journey partner. Counting down the Sunday worship services…selling their building…naming the sorrow…laughing, through tears, with the people…giving voice to the story. Equipping, enabling, praying, rejoicing, weeping.
And on June 8 — Pentecost Sunday, when God’s Spirit lands squarely on the peoples’ shoulders and they are sent forth into the world — that Pentecost Sunday, will be their final Sunday.