“Try
not to prepare for your vacation as you would for your own death.”
Several
months ago, as sabbatical became a reality, I jokingly quoted this admonition
from a New York Times article on how to ruin one’s time off. The gist of the
article was that if one tries to prepare for everything that could possible
happen while you are away, you will never relax enough to actually go away and
have a good time.
Seems
self-evident, doesn’t it? Obviously, enjoying time away from one’s job is a
matter of letting go and trusting that one is not actually indispensable, that work
will get done, timelines will be met, life will go on, the sun will rise and
set. For someone like me whose work is ministry in the name of Jesus, that
would be mean living out of the truth that it’s Christ’s church, Christ’s work,
Christ’s beloved brothers and sisters – and that Christ will be present in all
of it, even if I am not. That would mean trusting that Sunday will come and church
will happen and hymns will get sung, prayers will be offered, holy hugs will be
dispensed, and somebody will be standing in the pulpit come Sunday morning proclaiming the good news
of Jesus Christ.
Easy-peasy,
right? All I have to do is actually do what I say.
Walk the walk, as they say, instead of just talking it. How hard can that be?
Well.
For me, harder than you think. Or maybe you knew how hard it was going to be
for me and it’s only me who has been surprised by the 2am bouts of anxiety.

So
here’s the deal. I am surrounded by wonderful gifted people who make sure
worship happens every week, not just now as sabbatical looms, but every week. I
would put the Lawrence Road deacons up against anyone anywhere in the provision
of compassionate, loving, and faithful pastoral care, not just now, but week
in, week out. The church staff are at the top of their game, not just now when
I will be away, but every day. Our ministry leaders lead—not just now, but
always, not because they have to, but because God has called them to this and
they are faithful ministers of Jesus Christ. I’m part of all that, but not
indispensable to it.
And
I know that. And what I’ve realized is that I’m not worried about worship or
pastoral care or Christian Education or Properties or Finance or Outreach or
Parish Life or any of that. Nope—my peeps have got that—and the love that God
has given this congregation to share with one another and the community comes
from a bottomless well. That love will carry them through.
What’s
keeping me awake, my friends, is the undeniable fact that I’m the only one who
knows where I hid the key to the supply closet. And my sweet husband, who will
be on sabbatical from the church, too, may well be the only person living who
knows how to turn on the ancient steam boiler that heats the sanctuary.
So
I’m pulling a page from Jessica’s book. The Lawrence Road folk have the Jesus
stuff covered. But if anyone needs the code to the sanctuary router, check the
flash drive.
LOL! Those last two paragraphs got me Nina.
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