As I write this, my last column for the Grace Church newsletter, Ascension Day is approaching. The day when Jesus took his final leave of the disciples and ascended into heaven. Surely, I imagine, his disciples missed him. While Jesus was with them, there was an order-Jesus in charge, and they as followers. Jesus set the tone, the direction, pulled them back when they wandered off the path. And now (at least until the day of Pentecost), they were on their own. The promised Holy Spirit did come, but even still, the Jesus they knew was no longer among them on a day to day basis. They couldn't look into his face, hear his voice, feel his touch. Even among their Easter-tide joy, there was probably some grief and anxiety.
We do not know if Jesus had any misgivings or even twinges of sadness as he ascended to heaven. There is no mention of such things, and truly they are not important to the overall story. Jesus knew that in his resurrected body he could transcend time and space, and so, could always be with them if he wished. Christ does promise that whenever two or three are gathered, he will be in their midst. That promise stands for us today. Christ is present among us, in us and with us, even we cannot feel it or see it. Through Christ, we are all connected-across time, across space, bound one to the other in baptism, in His love.
I hold onto this reality tightly as I take my leave of the Grace Church community, and I want to take this opportunity to thank you for these past three years. I came to you as a freshly ordained transitional deacon, and you have gracefully put up with my growing pains through these past years. You witnessed and celebrated my ordination to the priesthood, and encouraged me along the way. I have been privileged to celebrate Eucharist with you, baptize some of you, join a few couples in marriage, and mourn with you when you have lost someone dear to you. I cherish all the ways that I have walked with you on your respective journeys in good and sad times. There are times, probably too many, that I have fallen short-and if I have hurt any of you, even inadvertently, please forgive me and pray for me. Like it or not, I am human. I will likely never be more than that, and I can only pray that I will never be less than that as well.
Many of you have approached me over the past few months, expressing your sorrow at my leaving, letting me know in so many countless ways how much you care. I appreciate it all more than you could possibly know. Please know that even as I know that God must have other plans for me, and that I have confidence (most days) that God is working for good, I too struggle with sorrow. I have been loved well, have learned much, and have become, even in a small way, a part of your lives, your journey-and you have been part of mine. Now has come the time to part ways, each of us on separate paths, and it is hard. Partings usually are.
So,
we will no longer see each other, face to face, as we are used to doing. I will
pray for you, and ask that you pray for me. Take solace in the fact that in and
through Christ, we are still joined, members of the same family. Nothing-not this
parting, not even a parting that comes through death-changes that. That is the
promise of our Lord, the promise of the resurrection. I have and will love you,
and I will miss you-you can count on that. But please also count on Christ's promise
to be with us always-and that in and through Christ, we can find one another there.