Re-retired. Who knew there was such a thing? I thought out to pasture was rather permanent, and you couldn’t get called up for a rodeo from way out there. I was wrong. The call came in the form of a mildly panicked District Superintendent, but it felt like it came from a slightly higher power. From somewhere I heard, “You wanna go one more time?”

So it was off to First United Methodist Church in Marion NC as interim pastor.

How hard could it be? Just pull out thirty-six or so sermons from the greatest hits file, and coast on home. Well, when I looked at those sermons, I realized that my theology had shifted a little. Those oldie goldies just didn’t fit so well anymore.

That shouldn’t have surprised me. I don’t see how your way of seeing things couldn’t move a bit after fellow-shipping frequently with trees and crows, traveling to a couple of holy places, spending more time with friends who are just over the accepted edges, and listening to folks that made me feel like I needed to stop trying to be a duck, cause they didn’t think I was ugly at all, and probably not a duck anyway.

Oh, and since I had tagged out the first time, two presidents had been elected, I had learned what the word “pandemic” means, and I had to get some new clothes.

I showed up anyway. And this happened:

– I baptized a baby. I whispered to her through my mask that God claimed her, and when I dripped water on her hair and crossed her ridiculously soft forehead, I remembered that God claims me too. God claims us all.

– I sat with some folks when their mother died. I told them hurting is okay. I reminded them that Jesus was pretty serious about death being more a graduation than an end. I said, “She’s truly a part of you. The connection is unbreakable. Love connects and is stronger than everything, even death.” Then I went home, thought about my Mom, and reviewed all that.

-When my time was up, a couple of folks said that I had helped them grow in their relationship with the Spirit. I thought, I’m thankful for that, but all I did was say in some form or fashion, thirty-six or so times: “God loves us, that’s nonnegotiable. Our task is to figure out ways to love God and others. Yep, those others.”

All to say that in nine months of showing up and welcoming, Christ was present. We got to know one another and we were changed. We did a rodeo. One I’m so thankful for.

But it’s my last one. Back to the pasture, way out there.

(In memory of Reverend Warren Owens. I am proud to join him on the list of pastors who served First United Methodist Church of Marion.)