Another Place
Another Day Along the Way
Friday, June 30, 2006
Another day,
Alone in a dark church auditorium, I stared at the empty seats. I walked up the four steps and stood on stage beside a pulpit. The place knew me; I knew the place. People – my friends, my family, my parishioners, my life – would arrive in two hours. Then and there, I breathed and thought. In a sanctuary with God, I wondered about my life.
Nineteen years. Almost one thousand weeks. How had I done? Had I succeeded or failed? Who knows? And why was this the time to say goodbye to a congregation I love? How many sermons, prayers, songs, appointments, books, meals, illustrations, tears, and smiles have occurred in this season now ending? Have I really made a difference?
The questions voiced themselves in my mind. No answers followed, so my thoughts moved on. They moved toward nouns – these people, these places, these things. And verbs – so many experiences during these seven thousand days of pleasure and pain.
I smiled and cried. I bowed and prayed. On my knees, I thanked God. For the honor of pastoring, of proclaiming, of seeing beyond masks on faces, of serving people loved by their Maker, I thanked God.
Now, the move has happened. One month later, I'm still thinking and praying and thanking.
Last night I stared at images and meditated about my new position on a new team. I drive around more curves here. I notice rabbits, hills, chipmunks, friends, and amazing opportunities. All while experiencing the merging of emotional extremes: hello to the thrill of new possibilities and goodbye to so many friends.
Still, it is the same sun I noticed in Florida that I now view every morning as I glance east from north Georgia. And, though lightening bugs wink at me here and my eyes notice a few more of the many stars, I continue praying to the same Listener. I still hope my life reflects love from the same Son who gave His Life for us all, no matter our zip code.
We can realize five hundred miles do not distance us from truth or life or love. Change can help us appreciate it all even more.
If only we choose to allow it.
Here and now, let’s breathe and think. In a sanctuary with God, let’s fill our lives with wonder. And be glad.
Along the way,
Chris Maxwell
Prayer Surrendered: Whatever the name of this place, I enter the door of grace, and bow before a Face. I am amazed. I ask to be made new. Amen.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Another day,
Alone in a dark church auditorium, I stared at the empty seats. I walked up the four steps and stood on stage beside a pulpit. The place knew me; I knew the place. People – my friends, my family, my parishioners, my life – would arrive in two hours. Then and there, I breathed and thought. In a sanctuary with God, I wondered about my life.
Nineteen years. Almost one thousand weeks. How had I done? Had I succeeded or failed? Who knows? And why was this the time to say goodbye to a congregation I love? How many sermons, prayers, songs, appointments, books, meals, illustrations, tears, and smiles have occurred in this season now ending? Have I really made a difference?
The questions voiced themselves in my mind. No answers followed, so my thoughts moved on. They moved toward nouns – these people, these places, these things. And verbs – so many experiences during these seven thousand days of pleasure and pain.
I smiled and cried. I bowed and prayed. On my knees, I thanked God. For the honor of pastoring, of proclaiming, of seeing beyond masks on faces, of serving people loved by their Maker, I thanked God.
Now, the move has happened. One month later, I'm still thinking and praying and thanking.
Last night I stared at images and meditated about my new position on a new team. I drive around more curves here. I notice rabbits, hills, chipmunks, friends, and amazing opportunities. All while experiencing the merging of emotional extremes: hello to the thrill of new possibilities and goodbye to so many friends.
Still, it is the same sun I noticed in Florida that I now view every morning as I glance east from north Georgia. And, though lightening bugs wink at me here and my eyes notice a few more of the many stars, I continue praying to the same Listener. I still hope my life reflects love from the same Son who gave His Life for us all, no matter our zip code.
We can realize five hundred miles do not distance us from truth or life or love. Change can help us appreciate it all even more.
If only we choose to allow it.
Here and now, let’s breathe and think. In a sanctuary with God, let’s fill our lives with wonder. And be glad.
Along the way,
Chris Maxwell
Prayer Surrendered: Whatever the name of this place, I enter the door of grace, and bow before a Face. I am amazed. I ask to be made new. Amen.
2 Comments:
Chris:
What an exciting transition! As you and your family change locations, churches, responsibilities, denominations, and return to the past with an update, I know that God is going to use all of you way beyond your wildest imaginations (if I can be cliche). You know that you and Deb and all of your family will be in my prayers.
Paul
God seems to be in the business of moving people out of their comfort zones into lives completely surrendered to the Cross. Chris and Debbie have followed His call and are an encouragement to others to do the same. Their congregation misses them terribly but knows that our loving Father has great things in store for the Maxwells as well as the church they left behind.
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