Sometimes I have experiences that don’t readily translate into blog posts. Of course there are plenty of experiences that I have that involve stories that are not mine to tell. The life of a pastor is rich and varied and occasionally involves being invited into private arenas. The trust that I am awarded is indeed gratifying and I strive to always be worthy of that trust.

This week has, however, been typical and as I reflect on it, there are a few stories worth telling that are very short indeed. So today’s blog isn’t a single story, but rather a few brief scenes from a week in a pastor’s life.

There is a communion hymn that is often sung to the same tune as “Come, Thou Font of Every Blessing,” called “Jesus, Lord, We Know Thee Present.” It begins like this:

Jesus, Lord, we know Thee present
At thy table freshly spread.
Seated at Thy priceless banquet
With Thy banner overhead.
Precious moments at Thy table,
From all fear and doubt set free;
Here to rest, so sweetly able,
Occupied alone with Thee.
—composer unknown, sometimes attributed to Mrs. Thompson

The theme of the hymn is that Jesus doesn’t belong to some long and distant past, but is present in the moments of our lives. I was thinking of that hymn as I drove away from the hospital after visiting with an elder of our congregation who is being treated there. Her short term memory is almost non existent. A conversation has threads that repeat over and over. She can’t remember whether a visit from her husband was an hour ago or a week ago. She won’t remember if asked whether or not I visited. But the moments we shared were delightful in the present. We talked of old times, of shared experiences and mutual friends. She was bright and cheerful and made my day. Sometimes, when the memory fails and the past is difficult to recall the present is enough. While her doctors see her as a problem to be solved and her family see her as a sometimes frustrating image of her former self, I was treated to the delight of her present self and we shared Christ’s presence as surely as any other encounter. Visiting her is a sacrament.

"I was there to hear your borning cry,
I'll be there when you are old.
I rejoiced the day you were baptized,
to see your life unfold.
I was there when you were but a child,
with a faith to suit you well;
In a blaze of light you wandered off
to find where demons dwell."
—John Ylvisaker

We had lunch with a young man who leaves in a week for his Marine Corps basic training. I was there to hear his borning cry. I officiated at his parents’ wedding. I officiated at his baptism. I held him when he was an infant. He played the baby Jesus in a Christmas pageant in the first year of his life. Now he is an adult. And he is aware that part of what he needs to complete the transition into adulthood is to live in another city - to experience the wideness of the world - to challenge himself - to move out of his comfort zone and see what he is made of when he stands on his own two feet. I couldn’t help but feel immensely proud of him. He seems to be so young and so inexperienced and yet at the same time so mature and so wise. I’m really going to miss him when he goes away, but I think he is right. Going away is what he needs to do.

Community of Christ,
look past the Church’s door
and see the refugee, the hungry,
and the poor.
Take hands with the oppressed,
the jobless in your street,
take towel and water, that you wash
your neighbor’s feet.
—Shirley Erena Murray

Last night we served the evening meal at Cornerstone Rescue Mission. The people were in a good mood. It seemed refreshing for them to come from a hot day outdoors into a cool basement with warm fellowship and good food. I always enjoy the banter with the guests at the meal, talking with them about their day, commenting on their caps and t shirts, and hearing about what they have been doing. Last night, I felt so delighted with the warm spirit and great conversation among those serving the meal. We really have some wonderful people in our church with a wide variety of fascinating experiences. I was among world travelers and people who had successful careers who were at home and delighted to just be serving dinner to a crowd of hungry people. “What a fellowship, what a joy divine!”

Good news, Chariot's comin'
Good news, Chariot's comin'
Good news, Chariot's comin'
And I don't want it to leave me behind
—traditional, sometimes credited to Louis Gottlieb

We’ve been pushing a lot of paper in our office this week. Newsletter week is always a rush to get articles written, edited, do layout, think in terms of a printed document, and an online document. This is the first issue of our new distribution scheme. As we scrambled to get all of the work done in the midst of our usual tasks of planning worship and producing a bulletin, keeping up with correspondence, writing thank you notes, and the like, I was amazed at how many people contribute to an issue of our church newsletter. The lead article was written by someone who is one of the busiest people in our congregation, edited by another who is an entrepreneur and small businessman, then submitted to a committee for their review. That alone is a complex and brave maneuver. Then it was placed in our newsletter by another person, edited by another, and the document was assembled by volunteers. Sometimes we think of things with many different voices as being hard to understand, but this document is more clear and more precise than it would have been if it had been just whipped off and sent out. Kudos to all who helped make a very difficult topic appear simple and effortless.

There are far too many other stories that deserve to be told.

The week has left me singing of God’s glory.

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