Farewell

Farewell sermon.

Sermon for North Hill Adventist Fellowship
Sabbath, November 17, 2012
Texts:

But in fact, it is best for you that I go away, because if I don't, the Advocate won't come. If I do go away, then I will send him to you. John 16:7 NLT

I tell you the truth, anyone who believes in me will do the same works I have done, and even greater works, because I am going to be with the Father. John 14:12

In 1984 I had been at the Babylon Church for about four years, longer than any other pastor had stayed in a very long time. The people of Babylon had truly become family. Karin was a key leader in the women's group. The kids of the church were our kids. Our daughter, Bonnie, was their child. We had remodeled the church. We had worked our way through crises together. I had begun imagining living and working together with these saints for the next three decades. Babylon was a charming town. The church was just a couple of blocks from the water. It would be a good place to spend a life.

Then I began experiencing an inner sense of call back to the city. To Manhattan. I brushed it off. Then as it became more insistent over the next few months, I actively resisted it. In my prayers I recited to God all the blessings associated with ministry in Babylon: The deep personal connections. The kids who had become teenagers. The men who were attending church because of their confidence in me. I would miss my art teacher around the corner from the church. And the geology professor at the local college where I had taken a class and hoped to take more. The enjoyment we—Karin and I and the congregation—shared as we worshiped and worked and played together. Besides all this, there were projects at the church we had talked about but had not yet accomplished. A new parking lot. A new roof on the school.

At least some of members thought I was indispensable. I almost believed them. I thought we had developed something together that was so special any change would wreck it. But I could not shake the sense of call to “the City,” i.e. Manhattan. Finally, late on a Wednesday night I told God, “Okay, you want me to move into the City, I'll go.”

The next morning the conference president's secretary called. Could I come to the office for an appointment with the president on Monday? I hung up the phone and told Karin, “The conference wants me to go to Manhattan.”

“How do you know?” she asked. “What did the president say?”

“The president didn't say anything. But I'm going to meet him on Monday. And he's going to ask me to go to the German Church. (Later this congregation changed its name to Church of the Advent Hope.)

Sure enough, on Monday Elder Kretschmar asked if I would move to the church on East 87^th Street in Manhattan. I said yes. Then I began worrying. What would happen to “my church,” to Babylon?

My worry was misplaced.

The conference placed a new pastor who was as different from me as you could get. He was a rough, almost crude, Brooklyn native. A preacher who shouted and pounded the pulpit. The congregation found itself captivated by his preaching. Under his leadership, they completed projects in months that we had been talking about for years. Within a short time, I was a fondly remembered “has been.” We and our friends in Babylon felt the pain of separation, but the church thrived.

So Karin and I went to New York. We worked with a small group of old Germans to create a new church—an English speaking church. Together we formed the only Adventist Church in New York City with a majority non-immigrant membership. It was the only young adult Adventist Church in New York City. It was distinctive enough that the Adventist Review wanted to write an article about what we were doing. (I declined. It was still far too new to be confident of what was going to happen.) Then after six years we left because of family needs. Again people in the congregation and I worried what would happen next. We thought I was indispensable. But guess what. The church thrived. Over the next few years, the attendance doubled.

Now, once again, as Karin and I leave here to go to Green Lake Church, I am causing pain to dear friends by moving. Some of you have expressed concern about the future of North Hill. What is going to happen to our church?

I don't know any way to get around the pain of parting. Some of us have been together for 14 years. This summer at the weddings of Nicolas, Kerstin and Stephanie, I felt like it was my own children who were getting married. We are friends. We are family. Friends and family were not designed to be temporary.

On the other hand, I have great confidence that North Hill will thrive. Not because of the pastor who has been here or because of the pastor who will come, but because of what God has formed in the congregation itself.

Where to start?

First, let's note a comment by Jesus to his disciples the last evening he spent with them.

But in fact, it is best for you that I go away, because if I don't, the Advocate won't come. If I do go away, then I will send him to you. John 16:7 NLT

Jesus was saying to the disciples, “It not just that you will survive my departure. You will thrive in my absence. There is good stuff coming your way that can only arrive if I get out of the way.”

If it was better for Jesus' friends that he leave them, then surely it is possible that something beneficial might result from my leaving. If Jesus was not indispensable, then it's not a stretch to imagine that I might not be indispensable.

North Hill has some very special strengths that will remain long after I'm gone.

A Gracious, Welcoming Atmosphere

The most frequent remark I hear from visitors is, “Your church feels so welcoming.”

Once I got a call from an Adventist theologian, a well-known conservative. They asked me to reach out to their son. This theologian preaches against drums in church and has publicly argued against some of the views I have published. Still this person told me, of all the churches in King and Pierce counties, I think my son would like would like your church best.

I did not create the warm, welcoming atmosphere of North Hill. It was built into this church from the very beginning. It was here before I arrived. It will still be here after I go.

Room for Everyone

Not long after we arrived here at North Hill, one Sabbath during prayer time, the head elder requested prayer for his son who had run away from home and was wanted by the police. At the time I was astonished. Nobody talks about that kind of thing in public. We whisper it. Brian modeled the openness and vulnerability that is the greatest gift of North Hill.

We don't have to pretend. We can be real. We will celebrate together. We also cry together. We don't have to hide failures. We don't have to down play our pride at our kids' successes. We are family. That is something you have created. It existed before I arrived. It will continue.

Bob and Karolyn brought their disabled son, Orin, to church. His vocalizations were sometimes distracting, even annoying. Still, you embraced Orin. You made him a part of our church. He is one of “us.” Receiving Orin, who could not talk, who sometimes made disruptive noises, who was the son of one of our mothers—that is something you did. It is an attitude that you still carry.

More than once someone has stood in our worship service to ask for prayer in connection with their going into detox or into rehab. And instead of standing with the Pharisees in scorn for such miserable human failure, you have stood with Jesus, refusing to condemn and offering your prayers and affirmation.

That will be here when I'm gone.

Working Together

One of the special treasures of our church is our building.

I didn't build it. I didn't design it. You did. It was a painful process. But out of that clumsy, difficult struggle came a building that offers a palpable invitation. There is something magical about the shape of the lobby that puts people at ease. The sanctuary feels inviting, welcoming. It puts people at ease. The only aspect of the building that I can lay even the slightest claim to is the windows. I asked for windows and the building committee put them in. Thank you.

The building cost 1.2 million dollars. I didn't pay for it. You did. You made the down payment. You are paying the mortgage. Your generosity has already cut two years off the mortgage. You have saved us tens of thousands of dollars in interest payments. You did that.

Your generosity has gone way beyond the building. In the years we've been here, we have not just made the payments on our mortgage. Your generosity has allowed us several times to come to the rescue of people facing crisis in their personal mortgages. You have kept people in their homes. That is something you have done. It is something you will continue to do. It is something that can be done because you work together.

When we were building the church we saved tens of thousands of dollars by doing a lot of the work ourselves under the direction of Warren Ford. Warren took several months off work to serve as our project manager. He directed us as we put on the roof and siding and built the stage, among other things. We could not have done it without Warren.

We could not have done it without you.

Once construction got started, we had a problem with people stealing materials from the site. Bob and Karolyn provided an RV, and four of their friends stayed in the RV and guarded our property—Doc Bob, Gary Noble, Mike, and Jack. Bob Kasprzak called them Thugs-R-Us. Once they arrived we never lost another thing.

They were a wild looking bunch. I was proud of you for including “Thugs” in the life of our church. They rendered valuable service and you as a congregation honored them for their service and welcomed them when they participated in our worship services.

Welcoming Old Men

All church growth books I have ever read and all the seminars on church growth I have ever attended have focused on what needs to be done to attract young families with children. Given Jesus' affection for kids this appropriate. Jesus did give special attention to kids. And to women.

Jesus also paid attention to old men with life long histories in the church. The most famous, of course, being Nicodemus. Jesus included Nicodemus without threatening him with damnation or condemnation.

You have followed Jesus in giving a welcome to Old Men with long histories in the church. Many of you may not even be aware that North Hill was the incubator that allowed the formation of the Pacific Northwest Adventist Forum—an organization that provides a sense of belonging for people, mostly over sixty, whose spiritual life is characterized by questioning and doubt. The organization is not based in our church, but it would never have gotten off the ground without the support and permission of this congregation.

Some years ago Wayne Sladek challenged me to do something that would serve old men. And Friends of St Thomas was born. It's a niche ministry. For a few old people, both North Hill people and others from outside the congregation, it has offered a vital fellowship. For some of those involved, it has been the key to their continued participation in the life of the church.

The ministry of Friends of St Thomas would not have been welcomed in every Adventist congregation. Your embrace of these old men is part of the magic of our community.

Children in Church

One of the funnest (is this really a word?) elements of our worship services is the little kids collecting the offering. We've watched little kids outgrow it. I remember when Lindsay, instead of leading our worship team, was padding around the sanctuary collecting dollars. Ania is the current star of the show—having the longest and most consistent run. We treasure her. You bless her dancing and the rowdiness of the boys. They are all your children. Would to God every kid could experience the sweetness of blessing and favor you give to our kids.

As they have gotten older, not all of our kids have remained actively involved in church, but nearly all of them speak very affectionately of “their church.” They remember the blessing of your favor and affirmation. You as a congregation have blessed a whole generation of kids. And you will continue doing so. This church offers a magic affirmation of kids.

Your generosity has supported kids at Buena Vista Adventist School and at Auburn Adventist Academy and at Sunset Lake Camp.

The kids in the Sylvan Chorale, the traveling choral group from the academy, report that North Hill has the best potlucks in the conference. They know you value them. You will still know how to cook after I leave.

Women at North Hill

The fellowship of women here at North Hill has been a strong community. Obviously, its life has been independent from me. It continues.

North Hill Music

North Hill was started, in part, to provide a place where people could worship using contemporary music. We believe that God did not stop inspiring music when Bach died or Isaac Watts or Fanny Crosby. Some of you are here just because of the music.

For many of us, the ministry of our musicians is central to our experience in worship. The music lifts us, feeds us. Several years ago, it was some of you who came up with the idea of hiring a minister of music. And you hired Bonnie. You did that.

And while I might be a bit biased, I regard it as one of the smartest decisions we have made in recent years. Bonnie has brought her piano skills and much more. She has helped you to create groups that include many people in leading worship here.

Bonnie has included people old enough to be her parents and young enough to be her kids in a vital ministry of music. Bonnie is not going to Seattle. She will still be here. She will still be constantly expanding the reach of your music ministry.

What can I say about North Hill Cafe? I didn't start it. I don't run it. Jeff does. I charge you to do all you can to support Jeff's ministry in this area. Ask him what is needed. Volunteer. Make yourself available. This is an amazing ministry.

The Secret People

Who sees the volunteers who clean our bathrooms?

Who sees the volunteers who take care of our landscape? (We will need more volunteers for this with my leaving.)

When Karin was diagnosed with breast cancer six years ago, a number of you came and cleaned our house and fixed us food while she was going through the horrific misery of chemo. More recently a number of you have been involved in providing care to Bernie and Pat as she has battled cancer. That kind of care is largely invisible. It is what makes a church real.

Who notices the people running the camera and the computer and sound system. These functions are indispensable to our life together as a church. You do them faithfully week after week. You make church happen.

And snacks. Snacks feed our souls as well as our stomachs. You do that.

We hold our communion services on Friday nights. We have nearly as many people for our Friday night communions as we have for morning church services. Often you bring friends who arenot church members. These are rich services. They are entirely planned by people other than me. Our communion services will still be here after I leave.

And what can I say about Kitty in the church office. She has been running the church for years. She will continue to do so.

So what is the future of North Hill?

I quoted earlier Jesus' words to his disciples: It is better for you that I leave. Because there is a blessing waiting that cannot come until I leave. Earlier that evening Jesus said,

"I tell you the truth, anyone who believes in me will do the same works I have done, and even greater works, because I am going to be with the Father. John 14:12

I don't know exactly what God is going to do here at North Hill, but I am confident that North Hill's best days are ahead. If I have built well, if we have built well, the future of the church will be more glorious than its past.

In the last year or so, our population of young families with kids has increased. You who have little kids are the next chapter of North Hill As you make friends with one another, as your kids play together and grow together, you will create a new center of vitality and life in the church. The older folks will encourage you. They will invite you to take on leadership and responsibility. Don't be hesitant to step forward. With God's help you are fully qualified to shape the church in its continuing ministry.

North Hill began as a dream in Alan Altman's living room. It continues as a dream—a dream in the heart of God, a dream in the heart of many of you. You are living a dream. Keep dreaming. Keep working. Keep extending grace.

God will bless you. A year from now you will be wishing I was here, not because you need me but because you will know how excited I would be to see what you are doing. You will know how pleased I would be to meet all the new people, to see the young people who have moved into leadership. I know I would be proud of what “my church” is doing.

So I say farewell. I regret the pain of parting. I rejoice in the not-yet-visible, bright future God has in mind for my church, for your church, for our church, for his church.