It has been a while since I have posted here. A sudden move across the country and an extended period of liminality have left me somewhat bereft of words. As this initial year of transition draws to a close, I finally find myself with things to say.
I moved to Evanston, IL, in September 2001 to attend Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary. I had never visited campus, never even been to the Chicago-area. But for most of the past 16+ years, Garrett-Evangelical has been my home. It was the first place I truly considered home after moving out of the home I grew up in.
I entered seminary knowing I was called by God to, well, something other than what I had been doing. But I was also fairly certain I could never be like the "preachers" I was familiar with from growing up in the church in the South. As I began my classes and began to reflect on what it meant to be called, two things happened. I began to recognize the echoes of that call in my own life going back at least into high school and to understand the ways in which the stories and rhythms of Jesus' life were woven into my own. And I began to see different models for ministry beyond those I was familiar with.
The title of this post comes from a chapter in Linda and Dwight Vogel's book, Syncopated Grace. In this book, they explore the rhythms of the liturgical year and the ways in which those rhythms model certain rhythms in our own lives. Just as the liturgical year follows rhythms of preparation, disruption, celebration, and, well, ordinariness, so too do our lives follow these same patterns.
Br. Dwight (or Dr. Vogel, if you prefer) was a true mentor for me. Not in some sort of formal sense, but he (like so many of my other professors in those early years) embodied a way of being that was both worthy of respect and full of grace at the same time. When I thought about what I wanted to be when I grow up (when I still think about what I want to be when I grow up), I hope that it looks something like what I have seen in Br. Dwight.
As I prepare for leave taking and transitions in my own life, I was reminded of this book. The particular chapter in their book titled "Disruptive Discords" speaks of the ways in which life contains disruptions that cause tension and discord. Things may be moving along smoothly when suddenly, things change.
Late last spring while we were at Annual Conference, my wife received the phone call that would change our lives yet again. She was offered a job in the Atlanta-area with the United Methodist Children's Home. This would take us back to the South and closer to family. But it would be a huge transition for our family - for our boys that had both been born in Chicago and never lived anywhere else and for us as we move across the country and seek to fulfill our callings in new places.
Less than two months later, we were sitting in a new house in a new city.
And I find myself facing the unknown. While I have managed to extend my time with Garrett-Evangelical for several months, that time is drawing to a close. By the end of June, that phase of my life will be complete. More than saying goodbye to a job I have loved, I am saying goodbye to a place that has been home.
Things were moving along smoothly. And then everything changed. This pattern shows up throughout the Biblical texts. Moses was tending his father-in-law's flocks, and then he stumbles upon a burning, talking bush. Samuel was studying with Eli, and then he heard a voice in the night. Simon was a fisherman, and then Jesus called him to be a fisher of men. The disciples were studying with their teacher learning about the kingdom of God and then the Crucifixion.
Disruptions are a part of life. And often the biggest ones are those that catch us off guard. But as we pass through the rhythms of the liturgical year, we find a foundation to help us through. We find that our lives exist in a pattern of rhythms. We pass through different phases for a time. We have periods of celebration preceded by seasons of preparation. And then we return to normalcy. Each of these times is punctuated by disruptions. Sometimes they are welcome and many times they are not.
I do not yet know what will be next. But I continue to rely on the grace that God has given me. Like the seed that must be planted and cease to be a seed in order to grow into something else, I am ceasing to be what I was before and becoming something new. May it, too, bear fruit as I look to a new period of normalcy.