About four years ago, my tenure as pastor of a remarkable and challenging congregation ended.
It was time.
For a year, I’d undergone extensive treatment for cancer, and there were more drugs, pain, and fatigue to come. I couldn’t do the work of pastoral ministry in the ways I thought it should be done.
It was time, also, because stark confrontations with my mortality made it unwise for me to continue to lower the volume on persistent questions about the Spirit’s calling and my vocational response.
I was soon to be 58 years old. I’d been on the staff of a local church almost continuously since I was 21; for all but three of those years, I had served as pastor.
I was, and am, committed to the church. I agree with the apostle Paul that it carries treasure in the flawed and fragile clay vessel of its common life; it bears wavering but crucial witness to the bright glory of God’s self-revelation in the person of Jesus.
In the give-and-take, push-pull, faithfulness-and-failure of its everyday life, the church is a school for Christlikeness. In our relationships with one another over time, we learn to forgive and be forgiven, to love and be loved, and to extend and receive mercy.
We encourage each other to be together who we truly are but can never fully be in isolation: the body of Christ—the tangible, audible and visible presence of Jesus—in pursuit of justice, peace, and healing for the world.
The church matters to me, so much that I’ve often said, “The church is worth all the trouble.” It can be a lot of trouble (and, sometimes, I’m the trouble), but I think the church is worth the sweat and tears, prayers and laughter, I gave it.
I was and am grateful for the nearly four decades that I invested in church leadership; but, after a year of difficult illness and with an uncertain horizon, it was past time to listen more attentively to—and, as Rilke put it, to live and to love—the questions.
Do you know how easy it is to turn the volume back down—how readily available the mute button is? There are bills to pay, cars to have inspected, shrubs to trim, groceries to buy, meals to cook, Netflix series to binge-watch, social media rabbit holes to get lost in, sermons to preach, lectures to prepare, papers to grade, meetings to attend, meetings to attend, and meetings to attend (did I mention that there are meetings to attend?).
Four years after I knew it was time to leave the pastorate and tend to the questions, I have to admit (confess) that not even face-to-face encounters with death—my death, not the idea of death and not someone else’s death—kept the questions at the front of my awareness. I have a black belt in denial.
I don’t want to reach the end, however soon or later I reach it, and have to admit that I’ve given primary energy to secondary things, toured the periphery rather than made a pilgrimage to the center, and complied with external demands instead of responding to the internal and eternal Voice. For the love of God—I mean it: for the love of God—it’s time to discover or rediscover what I most deeply believe to be true in response to questions like:
What keeps people from knowing, deep in their bones, that they are God’s beloved children? How can we help each other to know?
How can we trust that, because of God’s vast and self-giving love, there is “no condemnation” by God and “no separation” from God? What do communities enlivened by such trust look, sound and feel like? How can we fashion and sustain such communities?
How do grace and mercy heal our brokenness, even when they don’t cure our illnesses or end our pain?
How does love displace fear—in individuals; in families, tribes, and communities; and among nations?
What are the ways of life that place and keep us in harmony with the “grain of the universe”? How do we learn and encourage one another to honor them?
What does it mean—what could it mean?—that Jesus calls us his friends?
There are more. Questions like these shape my vocation now.
I can’t number the times the Spirit used the poetry of Mary Olive to call me back to my calling; it happened again last week. After she died, these words were everywhere:
. . . .
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
Wow, Guy. Thank you, once again, for pushing me with your words.
Thank you so much, John.
Thanks you for your thoughts on these matters. My situation so similar to yours except my debilitation is worse in the area of fatigue and I constantly try to find meaning in life. I still have hope that I will find or be given a special gift to help me feel useful again.
Guy, this post in particular moved something in me that really needed moving. I will ponder what you’ve written for a long time, because the questions deserve some time and attention. Thank you, dear friend, for offering a part of yourself.
Thank you for your wisdom spoken with heart. Shall truly cause me to reflect.
Thank you, Sheila.
Kathy, thank you for letting me know. I’m grateful that my reflections were helpful to you. I think almost all of us have questions that need tending and living.
Thank you for so eloquently expressing some very important life questions…some of which I have been asking and struggling with myself. Your thoughts continue to give me hope and encouragement that God’s people will remain faithful to seeking His guidance and strength to live sharing His love to all.
I’m grateful, Sandy, that you took the time to write and to let me know that my writing provided encouragement for you.
Well said, Guy. I join you in such pursuit. Thank you.
Thanks, Bill. Hope all is well with you.
So true! Hugs and prayers for you and the family.
Our hugs and love to you, too, Fran!
We continue to pray for you to have the strength to do the things you love for which God has equipped. you and to which God has called you. Thank you for sharing with us so honestly.
Thanks so much, Sue, especially for your prayers.
Well….one more way God is knocking at my door. Thanks, I think. Peace and Grace to you, my friend.
I understand “thanks, I think,” Bruce! Peace and grace to you, too.
I treasured your words, Guy. Adjustment to being a widow and living alone (actually for the FIRST time in my life except for college days – and they were hardly spent ALONE) has been difficult at times even though I was blessed by friends and some relatives during this time. Your message and thoughts meant a lot to me. Thanks! Keep me on your list of recipients!
Gladys, I’m sorry that you’ve been having to make–and are still making–those adjustments. It must be hard. I’m glad you ave friends and family to be with you. And, thank you for letting me know that my writing helped.
Pastor Sayles, I thank God for your calling as a Pastor. You truly are a man that God is using to PREACH the GOOD NEWS! We LOVE YOU and PRAY for you every day.
Thank you so much, Bud, for your encouragement and, in particular, for your prayers.
Thank you Guy Sayles. Like the movie quote “I needed that!” Wishing you love and friendship.
Thanks so much, Frances. I’m glad my reflections were helpful to you. Best, Guy
We need and cherish your insights because they open the doors to ours. Thank you, again!
Thanks so much, Callan!
You ask the right questions in the right way–no one says it better than you do–for anyone at any time, Guy. That said, I do understand the timing of these at this point in your life. For much the same reasons, under different circumstances, I find myself raising a host of questions and spending careful time considering them these days. Thanks for bringing to my consciousness some that I should be asking, but haven’t. You have a gift for “centering” me, as I know you do for many others.
Thank you so much, Earl. As time goes by, I find that the right questions matter more than almost any answers. Like you, I have a long list! I’m grateful we can help each other lean in the direction of those inquiries that matter.
Your words struck me to the core. I am such a Martha. And yet I really want to make the time I have left count. (Just getting older)
Linda, whether we’re “Marthas” or “Marys,” we need each other to help us make the most of the time. Best to you, Guy
Could it be that formulating the questions, having them appear here as offering to us, the members of “church” is coming from all of the time spent not on the periphery? And perhaps the periphery work feels like active denial because where your soul is fed is primarily in the work of formulating these questions and walking the answers as a leader and a servant across a vocation and within a life? To give yourself a break and realize that the bills do have to be paid, the stuff of life tended etc. The counting on heaven to be here in the miracles of “ordinary” life is made possible in the spaces where God enters our awareness inside the spaces between us and each other and the world. Hard to hold to in the moments of pain, life shattering loss, death loudly looming or calling or demanding but exactly also the place where questions that can create a place for coming to seek solace and purpose and connection and peace directed action all with love, Love in front becomes church. Can’t you tell, Guy, that you have surely planted seeds that have yielded trees whose gifts are in the air and soil and roots of life now and that there are others that will grow and thrive after you and all of us are no longer here on this side of the veil? Mary Oliver and so many other poets, and Jesus, our friend, and other Creatives and Saints all need the appreciators and you have been both creator of inspiration and comfort and friend and leader and “pastor” while also being distiller of questions. Thank you. Big life and one I and many, many others have been fortunate to live at overlapping time with you.
Kay, I’m very grateful to you for the wisdom, blessing, and encouragement in your thoughtful reply. I’m aware of an important and challenging shift in my vocation, and your words remind me that such shifts are not only necessary, but right and good. Thank you for taking the time and care to write. Peace to you, Guy
I get the denial even in the face of desth… may I join you in this persuit?
Absolutely, Randy! The work of “denying our denial” is the kind of work we can’t do alone. I’m glad to have help and to offer help. Best, Guy
Guy, six questions, six chapters for your book: Recovering the Questions. Now, hop to! Wait, you’ve already written it! Beautiful. See ya in a little over a week!
Terry, thank you for pointing out an outline that was hiding–from me–in plain sight. It might help me get traction on a book that doesn’t much exist yet. Looking forward to seeing you.
Hi Rev. Sayles,
I love your ideas in general and find great resonance with a few in particular … … …
“It was time, also, because stark confrontations with my mortality made it unwise for me to continue to lower the volume on persistent questions about the Spirit’s calling and my vocational response.” … … …
Lowering the volume reminds me of a term that I love from my science education/research days, namely: “the signal-to-noise ratio” …. … … The questions that well up within me from both your writing and my own prayer life, include: how do we increase the “Signal-to-noise ratio” concerning our union with The Spirit, and concomitant discernment of Her guidance? Moreover, who did God intend you to become in this life; or, perhaps more compellingly, what role is God asking you to play – now – during this current time? Fulfilling this role, to me, seems to be the most meaningful way of existing … … …
“In the give-and-take, push-pull, faithfulness-and-failure of its everyday life, the church is a school for Christlikeness. In our relationships with one another over time, we learn to forgive and be forgiven, to love and be loved, and to extend and receive mercy.” … … …
I love your insights here … … … and [with your permission!] may try to incorporate them in a sermon soon to come … … … In very brief response to your particular ideas here, I don’t see God waving a “magic wand” in the development of our beings … … … The experiences we have in general, and in the Church in particular, are – if we allow them to be – powerful ‘tools’ in God’s continuing development of our Christ-like soul.
“We encourage each other to be together who we truly are but can never fully be in isolation: the body of Christ—the tangible, audible and visible presence of Jesus—in pursuit of justice, peace, and healing for the world.”
Your ideas here too truly resonant with me, in particular “… but can never fully be in isolation … ” … … … as one of my favorite musicians once liked to sing: “We forward in this generation triumphantly” …. … The key word in this sentiment is “WE.” … … …
Finally, I wanted to let you know that both myself, and the congregation that I am trying to serve are keeping you in prayer … … …
May God bless you with an utterly palpable sense of HIs comforting presence … … … amen.
“I don’t want to reach the end, however soon or later I reach it, and have to admit that I’ve given primary energy to secondary things, toured the periphery rather than made a pilgrimage to the center, and complied with external demands instead of responding to the internal and eternal Voice.”
Wow. I just found your blog via the CBFNC annual gathering link. This is a nudge (another one) from God for me. I have had a call to ministry since I was a teenager, but was denied that because I wasn’t a man. I was finally able to go to seminary (and work full time as a school teacher) and graduated 4 years ago. I still teach and am a volunteer Associate Pastor. I am trying (at age 60) to let go of this teaching gig that isn’t my calling and run headlong into full time ministry which is my calling. Fear holds me back. But I don’t want to die not having lived my calling.
Thank you for the challenging words. I will save them and read them often to propel me forward! God’s blessings to you as you continue to preach to us all!