Ken’s e-Pistle

June 19, 2024

We Interim Rev-types tend to travel lightly.  You will seldom see an Interim Pastor fill all of the book shelves in the Pastor’s Study with weighty tomes of arcane theology.  Similarly, we don’t show off our Greek and Hebrew texts nor the assorted concordances which accompany them.  Most of us are retired folk or near enough to it where we couldn’t even tell you where those books are in our home libraries.  Those of us who still subscribe to the various professional journals rarely bring them to work.  If anything, we are likely to bring in an issue of The Atlantic, Garden and Gun, or Southern Living, where we are trying to find a recipe or a bit of bootleg philosophy.

Personally, I like to keep things simple.  A few resource books of humor, some favorite pieces of art and some knick-knacks from home are enough to make the Pastor’s Study feel a bit like home and welcoming to folk who simply cannot abide an empty room.

All of that is not to say that I have kept it intentionally barren.  Indeed, much has been added to it over the last 18 or so months.  Moments and memories now inhabit those shelves and hang on those walls.  The echoes of conversations, prayers, and, yes, a few heated but necessary discussions are still in the air.  And the hugs, let’s not forget the hugs!  Far too many to count. That amazing energy of compassion and shared love, breaking the barriers of propriety when it is least expected.  Most folk of other flavors think that Presbyterians would never deign to display affection.  I beg to differ.

About the only thing of mine left in the John Law Pastor’s Study is my robe and stole.  I have traveled many miles with them.  You may be surprised to know that it is the same robe in which I graduated from Seminary a few weeks ago.  Like me, it has had to be mended and even rebuilt a couple of times.  Also like me, it has absorbed the experiences of my life of ministry.  It holds the tears of the bereaved and some touches of makeup from joyous brides.  Babies have done unspeakable things on it during baptisms and it has had the Eucharistic juice/wine sloshed on it more than once.  If robes could fall asleep during poor sermons, I am sure that mine would suffer narcolepsy.  And if it could shout “AMEN” at great ones, I believe it might.  I can think of two occasions, now that I reflect upon it.

I count it a great joy and privilege to have sojourned among you for this past season.  I will never forget our time together.  And when all is said and done and I mount up in Addie, my faithful pickup truck to head once again over the mountain, I hope that you will remember one thing above all else:  You have been loved.  And you always shall be.

I bid you peace!