Back to the Journey

I have taken quite a hiatus in the "What's God up to?" department, in regard to our life as it is now -- a priest wandering on a path of darkness and confusion with his family in tow, questioning, wondering, yet trying to trust with every step. For the past several weeks illness and regular day-to-day life has kept me preoccupied, focusing my mind and heart not on the roaming journey but on the tasks at hand. And that's OK. But now some things have arisen which bring me back to the journey, back to the questioning, "What's God up to now?"

Don and I had a nice conversation the other day, where he said to me, "I'm feeling good." That might not sound very earth-shattering, but for a guy who has been through hell -- betrayal, abuse, pain, trauma, all at the hands of the church -- those few words are truly powerful. He commented that while we do have our share of daily worries -- our financial state being first and foremost -- he doesn't feel any of what he felt a year or more ago. He doesn't feel depressed or anxious; he feels happy in his work; he feels good about where we are. He has no answers, of course; he has no idea why his calling to become a priest has taken this shape, but he has learned to be OK in this interim. He's not dreaming, he's not looking ahead, and that can be hard. But he feels OK. That's pretty big.

Shortly after this conversation he received a phone call from a guy we have known for years, a member of our very first church after seminary. We worked together in the youth group, kept in touch over the years, and when he found out Don accepted the post at our last church, he followed, reconnecting with us and making that place his new church home. When he found out what happened to us, however, he left the church immediately, in shock and horror that something like that could be done. And when a woman from the church called him a few months later, on a phone call mission tracking down the mass of people who had exited after our abrupt parting, she asked him why he left, and he told her. He's been a good friend to Don.

His phone call the other day was a bit of a surprise, and his question was even more so. He and his girlfriend of many years are getting married, and they would like Don to officiate. Wow.

Ever since Don left the church last year, not only has he not step foot back into an Episcopal church (he can't -- it's just too painful), but he has not really done anything "priestly." The only concession he made was to officiate a funeral last spring for dear friends of ours. That's it. Sure, he is involved on the Praise Team in church, and he prays corporately on occasion, but any layperson can do that. Now he has been asked to perform a wedding. And the great thing is ... he agreed. I can't tell you what a monumental -- and symbolic -- step that is for him, on his own journey. His path is dark, rocky, covered with brambles and stumbling blocks and fog. It's a hard journey. But he's trusting, he's resting. And now he is embracing the opportunity to be a part of a new life, a new beginning for this couple ... and, perhaps, for himself. God, are you up to something here?

There has been another occurrence on my husband's journey, going almost hand-in-hand with this wedding opportunity. He has been asked by the pastor of our church to preach. Yes, preach a sermon! Outside of celebrating Communion, preaching is the priestliest of all priestly duties. Delivering the Word of God. This has always been Don's passion; he is a truly gifted preacher. He touches people, he reaches them, he can be powerful in the pulpit. God has given him this incredible gift and has used it in amazing ways. Our pastor is a great guy, and he has been an incredible supporting presence in our lives, but especially in Don's. He has wanted to get Don back into that pulpit but he has never been pushy, just biding his time and waiting for the healing process. In Advent, Andy first tried to test the waters. He asked Don if he would be willing to preach, and Don balked. Not only because his initial gut response was, "I can't. I'm not ready," but also because the sermon topic -- while eerily appropriate -- was too hard. It was on God's gift of patience, waiting for God in the dark times, waiting for deliverance. Ouch. He just wasn't ready.

This week Andy tried again. The date: March 2. When Don told me of this request I didn't react much -- this was his decision to make without my two-cents'-worth. But when I asked him what the sermon topic would be, Don turned to me with a very wry smile. He showed me Andy's email. It's part of a Lenten Series called "Walking With Jesus." This is what it said:

Do Not Fear the Valley

Text: Psalm 23:4; Luke 8:22-25; John 20:19-29—The disciples went and woke him, saying, "Master, Master, we're going to drown!" He got up and rebuked the wind and the raging waters; the storm subsided, and all was calm. "Where is your faith?" he asked his disciples.

On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you!" ...The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord.

Theme: God promises to walk with us through the valleys of life. Peace is not determined by the absence of valleys, but by the presence of the caring shepherd in the valleys.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

I was speechless. I had thought Advent's "Patience" was appropriate. This ... this is downright mind-blowing. Is this what Don is supposed to do? First a funeral, then a wedding, now a sermon ... on this? Could this be God doing some serious nudging? Are the waters which have lain so dormant starting to stir up like the Pool of Bethsaida? What will happen when Don dips his toe into the waters? Will there be healing? Will Jericho's walls come crumbling down? Will God work through that in some mighty way? I know I shouldn't read too much into it -- that's coming from my literary bent; everything has meaning and symbolism. But still ... this is just too good. Too God-like. I sucked in my breath.

"So ... are you going to do it?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant, not wanting to exude too much interest lest it pressure him, expecting an answering in the negative, citing a sense of understandable unreadiness.

He paused.
"Yes," he said quietly. "I'm ready."

I almost cried.