Last Sunday I was at my "home" church. We were celebrating 90 years of faithful ministry. A
part of those 90 years were spent investing in me. I was only 6 months
old when my family joined the church. After I graduated from High
School I was so eager to break the shackles of childhood and strike
out on my own that I pretty much never looked back. I didn't appreciate the contribution those good people made to my life. The years slipped by quickly. Went to college, married the love of my life, kid, career, more school, another kid, new career. It was mostly all, up and away. Then, everything changed.
Dad had his first heart attack and then a stroke, my nephew passed away, then my dad passed away. I began to feel something my younger self would not have believed possible... a tug on my heart from the past inviting me home. In all those years I had hardly been back.
It wasn't
long before I found myself making what I can only call a pilgrimage to a
community and church that so formed and informed my growing up. I wasn't
prepared for the emotional impact of that visit. I remember
sitting at the beach for hours and feeling a profound sense of loss. I
drove by all the old haunts, houses, and hang outs. I drove past my old
church building. It had been reduced to rubble, literally. I
snatched a chunk and it sits in my office today. It became my little
piece of "home" as I returned to my busy life in the Midwest and
closed the door on those strange feelings.
Then
things changed more... My sister got cancer, my daughter went off to college,
God called me away from a church I loved to move back to the Northwest, my mom
got sick, my son went to college, mom stopped remembering who I was, my sister
died. My family was gone.
It is a very strange thing to consider that you are the only one who remembers your childhood. There is no one left who remembers my childhood Christmases, or that great vacation to Disneyland or the cross country trip with the dog that got into a skunk.
Because of the nature of my career lots of people know who I am now, but almost no one remembers how I became that person. Turns out remembering is important.
Like I
said, last weekend I was with the dear people of that church. They are in
a different building, new folks have come and lots have gone. But for a
few hours on Sunday some of us were together again and they did a very
comforting thing... they told stories. Telling stories is the best way to
remember. We laughed, I cried, and most of all I was with people who
remembered the early chapters of my story.
The three hour drive home was very strange. On the one hand I was sad
that dad, mom and my sister could not be there. I am all that is left of
my family. This wasn't supposed to happen at my age.
On the other hand I found being with people who so deeply molded my early
life to be very grounding. These are the people that will forever remember
the stupid things I did as a kid. The mistakes that I wish no one
remembered and yet feel comfort that someone does remember. They have
stories that cause me embarrassment and know secrets that put me in a bad
light. These people know, to quote scripture "The sins of my
youth" and they loved me anyway. They remind me of 1 Peter 4:8
"Love covers a multitude of sins."
I've always heard it said you can't go home again. I get what they mean but I'm wondering if there is a sense in which we all must go home at some point. We all need people who remember and I mean remember the stuff you wish they would forget. There is something comforting and reassuring about people who love you warts and all.
That little church doesn't look like much on the outside. It has never been very big and it has always struggled. Its legacy is not measured by traditional metrics. It really only does one thing well, it loves people and especially kids. I was once one of those kids and Hoquiam Church of the Nazarene, I am your legacy. I want to thank you for remembering me and I want you to know, I remember you and I will never forget.
PS -- Did I mention that more than 1/4 of the people present Sunday were kids?
Legacy!
If you want to learn more about leaving a strong Legacy I invite you to check out our teachings series. We are calling it "Legacy, Living for something more than yourself."
You can watch online at
http://www.marysvillenaz.org/index.php/resources/sermon-video
Listen to audio or download a podcast at http://www.marysvillenaz.org/index.php/resources/sermons/serie/13-legacy
You can also subscribe to the podcast on iTunes.
Craig,
ReplyDeleteThanks for your reflections. I was sad that I was unable to make the trek over for the celebration. Like yourself, I think that a lot of who I am today has been shaped by the six years I spent in Hoquiam. Your parents set the tone and culture for that church -- a place of welcoming and grace. If there was a "Layperson Hall of Fame" they would be in it! I am so encouraged to see their rich faith living on through you.