On burying a friend: learning to journey with others as a pastor

 

After graduating from Moncton High School, in the scenic coastal province of New Brunswick, I made my way to Loyalist College in Belleville, Ontario (another beautiful Canadian province). I was there for two reasons: one, to study police science with the hopes of a career in criminilogy or something along those lines; secondly, I was running - not in a physical sense, but probably in every other sense. I was running from loneliness and isolation I knew in my young life, caused by a myriad of reasons, among them the death of my father when I was 10. I was running from people I loved, from my roots, my family and friends; not because I didn't love them, but because love is hard. I was running from what I knew but never allowed myself to embrace. And, yes, I was running from the Lord. 

I first came to know of Jesus through reading the New Testament; this was a gift from the Gideons to me at the age of 10 shortly after I had started Grade 5. I read that New Testament most days and eventually filled in the back page of that little book, indicating my desire to have Jesus as my Saviour and Lord. I started going to church with my mother, was baptized, and finished high school as the city of Moncton grew around me.

I was only at Loyalist for about a week, give or take, before returning to Moncton. I enrolled, late, at Crandall University (which was then Atlantic Baptist College). I had stopped running from at least one thing: what I knew to be the call of God on my life, becoming a pastor. There is more to that story, but for now let me move ahead a few years. As a result of some very gracious people, I started pastoring at the ripe age of twenty-one. I soon learned that being a pastor was very different from what I had imagined it to be. I fondly remember the pastors I had during my turbulent teens; I didn't realise what all they were facing as they sought to do two simple things: love God and love God's people. 

Pastoring is hard, because love is hard. And as a pastor, we are often encouraged not to become too close to anyone in the congregation because that could be seen as having favourites. I accepted this line for a number of years, but eventually gave it up; for me this line of thinking helped me do what I was used to doing: not embracing what I knew (in this case the lives of the people I was called to shepherd). I am glad I gave this line of thinking up, for I did end up meeting a dear friend, a soul friend, in a church I was pastoring. His name was Dale - Dale Empey.

I was 37 (so it was about time I slowed down on the running) and Dale was 30 that first Sunday I met him and his family. I did not know that day, having begun the journey of embracing the lives of the people around me, that Dale would quickly become one of my closests friends, if not my closest friend. I also did not know on that day I met Dale in the foyer of that church that a mere 5 years later I would be doing his funeral. Pastoring is hard, especially when you embrace the lives of those you pastor. Love is hard.

If I could encourage myself and others who find themselves in the throes of ministry to do one thing well, it would be this: love. It sounds simple but this will be the hardest thing you do as a pastor. For to love is to laugh and cry with God's people. It is to journey with them when they are doing well and when they wander. And it is to let them laugh and cry with us, their ministers. It is to embrace the people of God in the local church, and receive their embrace of us - when we are doing well and when we wander. This is what Dale did for me. This is what I now long to do with others. 

I have a friend who is also a counsellor who would often ask me how I was doing. I would respond by telling him how the church I was pastoring at the time was doing. He would ask again: 'how are you doing?' I was running then, so I wouldn't fully answer. I've stopped running. I've started the hard work of loving. I've located myself in a small community, on an island in fact, where I not only pastor but live my life within this community. I am a pastor, but first I am a person.  It is nice to stop; it is freeing to answer, when asked, how I am doing; it is love to share our lives with others. I am a person who pastors. I am part of this community as both. As such, I will bury many friends in the years to come as I make this community my home, my parishioners my friends, embracing what I know.