Foggy forest, so quiet

A Quiet Time

I am a blessed person. Having served local churches for what is now 31 years, my life has been deeply enriched by wonderful, loving, and Christ-Centered people. I could not begin to list all of them. Who God has made me to be happened through the kind and even challenging moments with those individuals. God has deeply touched me through the words and acts of all those whom I could never begin to number.

Since leaving the Wesley Pulpit at First UMC of San Diego, I have taken many weeks to reflect and consider the vast blessing of those many relationships over the years. Even this night I am keenly aware that I am not preparing for four Christmas Eve service, etc. etc. Moments such as these remind me of the rich blessing that work brings because it places me, and all of us, in a deeper connection with Christ.

Nonetheless, these days since June have been a quiet time for me. This blog has not been updated. I have suspended by Facebook and Instagram page. An occasional tweet signals my life to the outside world. It has been a discipline of quiet. Listening to the Lord whisper, “Come home.” It means giving that voice space to speak and move. The quiet of not preaching and teaching has been the space in which I can once again hear the Spirit. I am coming home.

This space (the blog) will never be a place to vent or process the inner-workings of God in my life. It will be a space to witness to the loving grace of God revealed to us all. After this quiet time, I feel ready to peek into the public world. This time not as a “leader”, “preacher”, “visionary”, etc. I know and have experienced that all those titles are human labels…not to be avoided but only understood in light of who Christ is. Of the labels on this very blog, the word that is center for me right now is “Follower.” It is the only label that matters.

No promises for weekly blog posts or hourly tweets. Just a recognition that the “gifts and calling of God are irrevocable.” – Romans 11:29. For I, and all of us, are simply in a journey of coming home. Sometimes that happens out loud. Sometimes in the quiet.