What has been hard to shed in these years of retirement is the mantle of pastor. The preaching thing which I thoroughly enjoyed for a life time of Sundays was always something which seemed to define what I did, but these last years have been empty of a pulpit from which to preach. My girls sometimes accuse me of slipping into my preaching voice, but it is something which is largely absent from my life. But, interestingly, enough I still see vestiges of the pastor in my life during these years on the farm.
To be honest it took awhile to be aware it was happening. Perhaps, it started happening as I realized how I was becoming invested in another community other than the one which was defined by the sanctuary under the steeple. People are still the same as they have always been which means the people around me continue to deal with the struggles which are common to us all. Caring about people is not something which comes because of a ritual of ordination. Actually, it is not required though it is good to be a part of the clergy packaging.
The pastoral work I do now is not likely perceived by those who receive it as an act of pastoral care and, to some degree, it is not. It is more likely what happens to those of us who seek to walk with the Christ down the road He calls us to go. Being close to Him invariably means that some of His Spirit is going to rub off on us making us into someone we would not be able to be otherwise. It is something I am not only seeing in my own life, but also in the lives of folks around me who share in the membership of this new community God has unfolded around me.
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