It is no secret to most of you that I have a great affection for Cooke City, Montana – an affection I did not develop for Lithuania, St. Bonifacius, Kyrgyzstan, or Massachusetts, nor do I anticipate developing for St. Andrews. If a career existed in Cooke for me, I’d be back instantly. Unfortunately, the nearest Christian college to the town is a not-s0-wee 9+ hour drive, and more in the winter. Probably too long for a morning commute!
(As a bit of an aside for those of you who know Cooke City, someone the other day suggested to me that I should start a Christian college there. I could only laugh. This person has definitely never been to Cooke City, Montana, or more importantly, has never met any of the locals!)
I talk about Cooke City often. You know how I love it. What I don’t talk about so often is how much I loved being a pastor there, a love that was remembered and even enhanced by returning last March.
You know the phrase, “If I had a penny for every time I heard/saw…?” Well, if I had a penny for every time I’ve answered the question, “So what are you going to do with this degree when you’re done? Do you want to be a pastor?” – I wouldn’t be rich, but I’d probably have next month’s rent covered! Before Montana, my answer went something like this, “Not a chance! No, no, I am definitely not pastor material. My goal is to be in a classroom at a Christian institution teaching those basic bible classes to the freshmen, molding and shaping their formative minds, particularly those intending to go into full-time ministry.” Now that I’m a student again, and I’m again subjected to The Question over and over, my answer has not changed, but it has been nuanced. Now I say, “I hope to teach at a Christian institution of some kind, teaching those students who intend to go into full-time ministry the bible which I hope they will then pass on to their one-day congregants. And, if the circumstances are absolutely perfect, I’d consider taking on another pastorate.”
I don’t know what the future holds for me, but I do know that certain pastoral gifts have been confirmed since my time in Cooke City and that I do absolutely love ministering to the people whom I claim as my flock. And, no matter what the future holds, those in Cooke City (even if they someday leave the town), will always be considered in my pastor’s heart as my flock whom I love and over whom I feel an immense sense of spiritual responsibility.
Returning last month, I sat in these chairs not as the pastor, but as a congregant – and as a visitor no less! As I sat there and looked out the window, I thought about the countless hours that I sat there while pastor, thinking about sermons, praying for the people and their Christian lives, praying for discernment and wisdom to act, speak and lead as pastor, imagining what my own life beyond Cooke City might look like, and often just sitting and staring. While sitting in those chairs last month, I thought about my love for the people in the chairs next to me and how much I want them to know how deeply I care about them as people, their faith, their love for God, their joys and concerns – a care that should define any pastorate.
One of my pet peeves is when people assume that because I myself am not a parent, that I know nothing about parenting. Let me tell you, I’ve changed more diapers in my 29 years than any other non-parent my age. Of course, it’s not the diaper changes that teach one about parenting; they are but the hands of a clock. Rather, it’s in the hours of care that take place between changes that parenting is learned. And now, because of my time as pastor to these people, I know even more about the heart of a parent.
What it looks like to watch your children learn and grow…
Watching their eyes light up when they discover something new…
Watching as they struggle to find their way through life’s trials…
Watching as they attempt to figure out who they are amidst the world around them…
Watching as they step out with courage into an experience outside their comfort zone…
Watching as they grow in faith and love as a child of God.
You praise God for them,
worry about them,
pray for them,
teach them,
counsel them,
walk along side them,
and cherish every moment you have with them.
Like parenting, pastoring is no easy task. The responsibility you feel for that person or group of people is, at times, draining – emotionally, physically, mentally. But I’ve come to realize that it’s also one of the most rewarding experiences a person can have.
All that said, I had a huge amount of fun last month, but one of the greatest parts of my trip back to Cooke was the time I was able to spend with the flock. Conversations about theology, the bible, religion, Christianity, personal concerns, family concerns, town concerns – conversations that fill me with more joy than any snowmobile, snowshoe or snowboard can do! Those conversations had not stopped since leaving last summer, but were limited to email and letters. Nothing beats face to face.
The four-hour conversations about theology and the bible in a groomer while inching up and down Daisy and Lulu…
The conversations before, during and after meals…
The conversations over puzzles, cards, and games…
The conversations between tube runs and snowmobile rides…
The conversations in cars, in hot pots, and in front of fireplaces…
The conversations in the church and in the bar…
The conversations that make one go and grab a bible, or a tissue, or both…
No, it’s not the snowshoes or the skis that I love, as much as it’s the conversations about God, life, and faith that happen while on them and, of course, the people with whom I’m privileged to have them.
Thanks to everyone in Cooke for introducing me to and guiding me through one of the greatest honors and privileges of my life.
Now as your former (and forever) pastor, do as I tell you to do!
Go to church. Pray earnestly. Read your Bible. Ask questions. Encourage one another. Love your enemies. And greatest of all, love the Lord your God with all of your heart, with all of your soul and and with all of your your mind and with all of your strength. I love you all.
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