The theory of calls and effects

I finished work early yesterday, and though I didn't take a day off as my lovely wife, Mary, suggested since I had so much work last week on Holy Week activities, I took an afternoon off. What a wonderful choice.

It was one of "those" days; like in Genesis, God walked the garden in the cool of the day, gently lifting and moving leaves and limbs. The birds were mocking each other in outrageously beautiful tunes; squirrels were afoot without much care or security in their actions; the two cats who adopted us upon our arrival to this parsonage were play-fighting over my attention and were completely against the use of my time to read; and the book I was reading was joyous as I read it first in the front then the back yard.

It was one of "those" days, a gentle reminder that there are still "those" days to be found in a life that too often registers what we "do" as visit the lonely and the physically incapable. In return, it seems often we check our joy at the door and leave it there in the umbrella holder somehow.

I got away, deep into thought and reading material, leaving bills and plans behind as a journeyer on the road less-travelled must.

As time crawled, I carelessly watched a Cardinal hopping and a Blue Jay fluttering and flashdancing with a mate. They were dressed in their finest, particularly for a Monday.

The dogs were interestlingly quiet, though occasionaly they ripped across the yard for only God knows what reason, chasing or being chased by the unknown and the unseen, then settling into a slumber. (our grand child Gavin calls them "dead-sleep naps")

While sitting and enjoying the occasional paragraph of Illusion, Frank Peretti's latest foray into fiction, I received a visitor, the pastor from the huge Southern Baptist church down the road. He and I share much: We both went to Mississippi State; we both love animals (his father in Picayune is a vet; we certainly both love the Lord and have taken that love to the extreme of pastoring churches. He is a really nice guy and powerful preacher, and his church shows that. He has 500 plus come to his church each Sunday. I, of course, have that same number but it's over about six weeks.

We have preached three of the past five ecumenical Thanksgiving services in Blond, and I have been greatly impressed with his talents. We talked about going to something together at Mississippi State sometime, but I believe that time, like the remainder of my hair, might have passed.

He had heard about our move -- again, in United Methodism we serve the pulpit under an itinerant method in which we are called to move every so often. I am ending my fifth year at Fitzgerald and my sixth at the other church, Lacombe. I reasoned before the call that the call might come. I had prayed, daily, that we might be moved closer to our grandkids, but I ended each prayer with the notion that God's will be one on earth as it is in heaven. I meant that.

Brother Steward, Clark as I call him (someone told me last week I was the first pastor she had ever known that she didn't use the title of Rev. each time she addressed him or her -- I thanked her for that as I'm not a title kind of person), asked, as have many, whether I had a choice in this.

Could I have said, "No. I don't want to move." Or "No, not at this time." Or even "No, I want to move to Belle Chasse and no where else will do."

I replied to Clark as I have each time: yes, and no. I personally haven't talked to anyone who said no. I assume that no can be bad for your ability to move if you one day decided you really needed or wanted to. In other words, if one says no, I'm told that goes into some kind of mega-file and is never, ever forgotten. So, once having said no, one never gets asked again. Whether this is true or not, I have no way of knowing. Did I mention that I haven't talked to anyone who has ever said no?

Also, I believe God leads those making these "appointments," and that being the case, God is leading my call as well. So, yes seemed the right thing to say.

Besides, I believe in accepting challenges, I believe God is the bus-leader on our journey, pointing out the landmarks here and there, and it seems Eunice (and Kinder-Iota, the two small churches that come with the deal) is an excellent opportunity. They have more youth at a Wednesday night meeting than my two current churches have in totallity at their off-Sunday activities.

Is it much farther from our grand-children? Yes.
Is it in an area we know nothing of? Yes.
Is there some degree of fear involved in moving this far into a completely new situation? Yes and Yes.

Does that mean we should not do it? No.

Think Abram, only to a much, much smaller degree. Most folks forget that Abram had moved before he made his big move. They think that out of the blue, God called and Abram charged. Not, uh, exactly.

In Genesis we read, "Terah took his son Abram, his grandson Lot son of Haran, and his daughter-in-law Sarai, the wife of his son Abram, and together they set out from Ur of the Chaldeans to go to Canaan. But when they came to Harran, they settled there."

The sentence that I fear more than any in ministry is ..."they settled there." If we did something one way last year, we should do it better this year. I've always believed that, in the newspaper business or in ministry.

Look at the next line in Genesis: Terah lived 205 years, and he died in Harran.

The sum total of Terah's achievement is he moved then he settled. That's it. That was his accomplishment. That's what he added to the equation. He lived, he settled, he died. That's simply not what I want to have happen in my life, in our lives.

I've told Mary that what I want on my tombstone is this: "God knows, he tried."

But the next portion of the tale of humankind is this in chapter 12 of Genesis. The Bible reads:

¹ The LORD had said to Abram, “Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you.
² “I will make you into a great nation,
and I will bless you;
I will make your name great,
and you will be a blessing.^[a]
3 I will bless those who bless you,
and whoever curses you I will curse;
and all peoples on earth
will be blessed through you.”^[b]
4 So Abram went, as the LORD had told him;

God called. Abram, the Bible tells us, "went." I see no check lists, those things where we weigh the good against the bad. I see no discussions with wife, Sarai, about what to do next. I see no moving van estimates. I see only "Go followed by went.

My friend, the pastor of New Zion, and I spent 30 minutes or so talking on a beautiful Monday afternoon. He asked me if congratulations were in order. I said I wasn't completely sure, but I was sure God was calling again, and Mary and I continue to answer and I said I wasn't sure if that completely answered his question but that was the only answer I had at this time. God still has need of us is about all I can tell people. I've had persons ask if they could start a petition to keep us here. I've had persons who actually tear up talking about this.

All that is well and good, but what must Abram have felt? The family had moved everything to go to Canaan, but they stopped midway through that journey and settled in Harran. That seems to me they were happy as Blue Jays flapping in the trees. They had no intention of moving again. Ever. Terah died at 205 years of age, happy he was home, happy he had found home. Harran was HOME.

I related a bit of those thoughts to Clark, he laughed and said, "You know, you have to be careful when you tell the Lord you will do whatever he asks of you because he takes you up on that."

There is no record of Abram saying such a thing to God. In fact, his father was an idol worshipper, so one could reasonably conclude so was Abram. There is no Biblical record of Abram's exquisite prayer-life, like David's. There is no record of God and Abram being even acquainted. Abram, for all we know, might have worshipped at the feet of Satan for some of his life.

But when God called, Abram answered. He packed (one supposes) and he went.

Ultimately that is the joy of what we do as pastors and as laity, isn't it?. God calls (often to small and what we see as insignificant roles) and we answer. It's not rocket science, here.

It's what I call the theory of calls and effects. He calls and the effects of that call will be evident the rest of our lives, no matter our answer.