On Wednesday, October 16th I will have been an ordained pastor for 10 years. I want to take some time each day this week to reflect on this ministry that I've been called to. We’ll see how it goes, since it’s hard to find any time to reflect and write these days, but I’m planning on using my lunch hour as much as possible. It will be stream of consciousness for the most part. Beware JOne thing I’m not sure people understand is how much I think about the people of my congregation. I’m pretty sure I think about them a lot more than they think about me. I worry about their families. I think of those struggling with marriage, those going through divorce, those whose kids are giving them fits. I think about those who are dying or working to get better from an illness. I think about folks who are hard at work and struggling to make ends meat. I think about people all day long and at night. I love these people and I want good things for them and I pray for them and it consumes me. At my first congregation there wasn't a lot of movement in and out of the congregation. We had new members, but I don’t remember too many people moving away. I counted on people being there, serving, being a part of the body. It floored me when we had a conflict and lost several members. I can’t even remember what the problem was. But I agonized over them. It always bothers me deeply when people leave the church. It just seems so wrong. In my current congregation people move ALL THE DAMN TIME and I hate it. I hate it because I love them and invest in them and count on them and then they are gone. Maybe there’s some psychological problem I have, some failure to differentiate. Who knows? But I have a hard time when people leave. But the worst are those people who drift away, who just stop coming. Not for any conflict. Not because they have moved. Who knows why? Maybe that’s what gets me. I reach out and I get bland responses promising to return. I worry about them. I worry about them not having a church, not having people to pray with them or help them grow. I worry about when they have weddings or baptisms or funerals and have some generic service done by someone who knows nothing about them who can’t speak deeply into their lives. I can’t seem to let them go. But 10 years into this thing called ordained ministry it’s the people that are first on my mind. I’m surprised how much space they occupy in my life and I know they have no idea. Which is the way it should be. I just hope I’ve played some positive role in their life. I hope they spend a little more time thinking about God and who they are as His children because of my work among them. I hope they love God a little more and pray a little more. I hope they trust the One who made them and seek to do His will. Which makes me think of my pastors growing up. Robin Dugall, Jim Munter, Jeff Nellermoe . These guys taught me about God and about God’s word. I’m very grateful for their ministry. I think about them a lot too and their ministry to me takes on a whole new light at I minister to others. I remember their sermons too, well probably only a handful. I remember Pastor Jim cutting up an apple for a stewardship sermon. I remember Pastor Jeff sharing stories of helping a guy at gas station and another one about coming to a crossroads decision about Noah’s ark and I’ll never forget him teaching me to read the gospel of John. I’m so grateful for my pastors!I read the Bible differently now too. When I read Paul’s letters to congregations I get what he’s saying. I can imagine writing those words myself “I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you…” “I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love Christ…” “I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you.” Yeah, I get that. Constantly praying. Wanting desperately for people to know God’s love. Never knowing for sure if they do. I think I’m becoming more aware the role I play in the lives of others. That at the end of my career, I won’t have anything to show, really. I probably won’t have some huge church or grand ministry or sprawling campus to point to. And if I did, it wouldn't be the thing to point to anyway! What I suspect I’ll have 30 years from now is a greater respect for how small I am and how great God is. I imagine that at the end I’ll just be grateful for the chance to nudge people along in the grace of God as we travel the road together. People. That’s what I think about after 10 years. God bless ‘em!