Maybe it’s just adrenaline. Or beginner’s luck. Or the naïveté that comes during that “honeymoon” phase of pastoral relationships.  I don’t know. I just know my heart is full.

I get to study and wrestle with texts that are sacred to me and to the generations of men and women who made sure they were there to pass on to me (even if I don’t always agree with the way their wrestling turned out).

I get to write and play with words, aiming for sentences and paragraphs that teach with beauty and humor and honesty.

And then I get to speak them in a space where the Holy Spirit lives and moves and and opens hearts and minds to hear God in the words we sing and read and pray and preach, making up for my failings, my pride, my inexperience.

I get to sing, raising my voice alongside those whose voices are stronger and more lilting than mine, as well as the voices that struggle to find the right note with the power they once knew.

I get to listen to people’s stories, worries, joys, fears, hopes. I get to share the bits of life that I’ve survived thus far and the hope that I’ve gleaned along the way. I get to sit quietly and hold their hands and pray before I go.

I get to plan and pray and hope and dream with leaders who are equal parts frustrating and inspiring, because we are all equal parts redeemed and sinful. But we laugh and learn and keep at it.

I get to love these children of God the best I can.
I get to let them love me the best they can…  and the best I can.  

And we get to let God fill in the myriad gaps.

As God does.

So, even though there is still plenty of mess and pain and unsettledness and grief in my life and in my other work…  in this ministry and in this moment,

My heart is full.


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