Cleared to Land: Transitioning Back to Work
The moment that marks the end of a journey -- at least for me -- is the moment that the plane's wheels touch down on the runway. Prior to that, you are still in the air, still traveling, still "away." As soon as the wheels touch down and the plane rolls out, you are back in your home city and everything after that -- deplaning, claiming your luggage, driving from the airport home -- feels like a postscript.
If you think about it, that few seconds when an airplane touches the ground is a dramatic moment. Hundreds of tons of aluminum, and people, and luggage which has travelled at hundreds of miles per hour in a sort of weightlessness, sometimes around the entire globe, is suddenly reunited with the laws of gravity. The jolt that yo
u feel is the wheels of the airplane suddenly gripping the runway, accelerating to match the speed of the plane of the plane (over 150 MPH), and then just as quickly, decelerating from over to almost zero in a little more than a mile. It can be a jarring transition.
u feel is the wheels of the airplane suddenly gripping the runway, accelerating to match the speed of the plane of the plane (over 150 MPH), and then just as quickly, decelerating from over to almost zero in a little more than a mile. It can be a jarring transition.
My Sabbatical ended almost two weeks ago, and I've transitioned back into the good work of pastoral ministry. My first Sunday back in the pulpit was this past Sunday. My first hospital visit happened on my first day back. This week has been filled with meetings -- church council, worship committee -- with visits -- seeing some of our elderly members, visiting with the sick, meeting with our interns -- and with teaching -- a Sunday School class on Reformation history, and new members class. All in all, the transition has gone as well as I've expected. That's not to say that it was always easy, but it is to say that I expected that it wouldn't be without it's ups and downs.
My first Monday back felt surreal. I gave myself time to get my office reorganized, to take things slow, and to make sure that in my first week back, I had only to write one sermon (working ahead back in June to make that possible). I met with our interns to hear how things went from their perspective. I met with our elders to hear updates on what had happened over the summer. But there were moments when it felt almost out-of-body. Like I wasn't entirely sure of what I was supposed to be doing.
I also experienced moments of nostalgic sadness. Little events would trigger it -- we'd drive by the pool where we spent countless hours this summer, and it would bring up all the happy memories of how we enjoyed the summer, along with the reality that we won't be able to make those memories again for awhile. On the top of a sermon that I began back in June, I wrote, "Remember: You are writing this sermon while at Capitol Toyota, and Derek is with you; it's Derek's first day of summer vacation and your last day of work before your Sabbatical." I had forgotten I had written that until I opened up that document this week -- and it brought my mind back to the days leading up to my Sabbatical -- days filled with excitement and expectation about what was to come. And now, that was all in the rearview mirror, and it made me sad. There were lots of little things like that sprinkled throughout the weeks.
My first Sunday back in the pulpit went well, I thought. I was a little rusty, probably. I shared some of the thoughts I'd had on rest over this past summer -- you can watch the sermon here, if you're interested. It felt good -- really good -- to be back in the saddle again. Aside from three preaching gigs this summer (two in my hometown, and one in India) I've not preached since June. I was really eager to get back to it, but if I'm honest, all of the nerves of Saturday were right there with me. As well, it was good to see so many friends again. We missed our church family more than we realized, I think. People were glad to see us again, and they received us back with open arms, which warmed our hearts. As well, there were new faces -- a number of them -- that was exciting as well.
Someone said to me last night that the church learned in my absence that they "did fine without you." Now, understand that this was meant -- and I took it -- as a compliment. Healthy churches are ones that love their pastors, appreciate them, and look to them for leadership, but can learn to function without them. The church body is not meant to be so dependent on their pastor that everything falls to pieces when the pastor steps away. I was so grateful to learn that the leadership of the church handled the bumps along the way. They managed conflict, worked through problems, ministered to the sick, and even provided care for a grieving family. Everyone from the elders and deacons, to the worship leaders, to the lay persons stepped up, and for that I think God.
Last year, I was on a flight from Portland to Amsterdam, and as the plane made its final descent towards the runway, I braced myself for the usual jolt that happens when the wheels make contact with the runway -- but this time, it didn't come. Or, more accurately, it came, but I barely felt it. It was one of the smoothest landings I had experienced, and that takes skill. There were a couple of things that we did that made the entry go smoothly.
First, we started visiting our church again. This an accidental lesson. I had returned home from overseas late Saturday afternoon, and was extremely tired Sunday morning and we decided that rather than attend Evergreen, it would be easier this time to attend Sunnyslope (it starts a little later, allowing some extra snoozing time, and it is right next door to our home, meaning we don't have to drive there and back). We also attended a second time on the day before I returned. The advantage in doing this is that we were reacquainted with our church again apart from the usual demands of Sunday. People want to chat, they want to hear how our summer was, multiple people want to crack the same joke ("Hi! Welcome to Sunnyslope; are you visiting here today?"). To have to teach, preach, lead worship, and talk to lots of folks who want to talk to us, all in one Sunday would have been a lot. We spread this out a bit, so that when I first preached again I was already a semi-familiar face with the folks.
Second, I took it slow with reentry. To refer back to my analogy again, planes begin to slow down long before they hit the runway. If you can flip that around, I had to start slow, and work my way up to a normal pace. I didn't pressure myself to write the usual two sermons in the first week. This gave me the time to visit a few people, to have coffee with our interns, to focus on all the administrative details that I needed to catch up on. My first Sunday evening back again was a time for me to share about my trip (instead of preaching a second sermon). That took some advance planning, but it went a long way to easing the transition.
Third, we had to remember to be honest about what was going on in our minds. Amy is transitioning as well -- in multiple ways. She begins a new job, with a new schedule, in a new place. As well, she's adapting from a summer of rest to the busyness of the fall, and for both of us, we had to remember to communicate what we were experiencing as we went through this, rather than letting the stress turn into snippiness or criticism, or passive-aggressive behavior. We weren't always perfect in doing that -- we're still learning -- but we tried to be mindful of that.
Finally, we tried to remember our summer. Partly, this means that we've reminded ourselves how blessed we've been this summer. The art of gratitude is good for the soul, and it's helped us keep our memories alive, even if it brings some sadness with it. Partly, this has meant reimagining my Sabbath ritual (last Friday, my usual day of rest, was one of the best that I've had in a long while!), and learning how to apply the discipline of rest in my life. And partly, for Amy and myself, it's meant remembering and applying some of the lessons that we'd learned together in Arizona. We've decided to invest in regular Skype visits with our hosts at 1010 Ministries as a way to seek encouragement, guidance and accountability.
This will probably be the last entry for me at least on this space (but follow me here -- I plan to keep writing on my other blog about faith and culture!) This Sabbatical has been a tremendous journey -- a great experience of learning, growing, discovering the world, and being refreshed and recharged. I'm deeply grateful -- grateful to so many folks -- and I hope that these thoughts as I've jotted them out here have been enjoyable for you, and perhaps have even given you something to think about. THANK YOU for coming along! And may God bless you as you seek and enjoy the true rest that he offers us.
Someone said to me last night that the church learned in my absence that they "did fine without you." Now, understand that this was meant -- and I took it -- as a compliment. Healthy churches are ones that love their pastors, appreciate them, and look to them for leadership, but can learn to function without them. The church body is not meant to be so dependent on their pastor that everything falls to pieces when the pastor steps away. I was so grateful to learn that the leadership of the church handled the bumps along the way. They managed conflict, worked through problems, ministered to the sick, and even provided care for a grieving family. Everyone from the elders and deacons, to the worship leaders, to the lay persons stepped up, and for that I think God.
Last year, I was on a flight from Portland to Amsterdam, and as the plane made its final descent towards the runway, I braced myself for the usual jolt that happens when the wheels make contact with the runway -- but this time, it didn't come. Or, more accurately, it came, but I barely felt it. It was one of the smoothest landings I had experienced, and that takes skill. There were a couple of things that we did that made the entry go smoothly.
First, we started visiting our church again. This an accidental lesson. I had returned home from overseas late Saturday afternoon, and was extremely tired Sunday morning and we decided that rather than attend Evergreen, it would be easier this time to attend Sunnyslope (it starts a little later, allowing some extra snoozing time, and it is right next door to our home, meaning we don't have to drive there and back). We also attended a second time on the day before I returned. The advantage in doing this is that we were reacquainted with our church again apart from the usual demands of Sunday. People want to chat, they want to hear how our summer was, multiple people want to crack the same joke ("Hi! Welcome to Sunnyslope; are you visiting here today?"). To have to teach, preach, lead worship, and talk to lots of folks who want to talk to us, all in one Sunday would have been a lot. We spread this out a bit, so that when I first preached again I was already a semi-familiar face with the folks.
Second, I took it slow with reentry. To refer back to my analogy again, planes begin to slow down long before they hit the runway. If you can flip that around, I had to start slow, and work my way up to a normal pace. I didn't pressure myself to write the usual two sermons in the first week. This gave me the time to visit a few people, to have coffee with our interns, to focus on all the administrative details that I needed to catch up on. My first Sunday evening back again was a time for me to share about my trip (instead of preaching a second sermon). That took some advance planning, but it went a long way to easing the transition.
Third, we had to remember to be honest about what was going on in our minds. Amy is transitioning as well -- in multiple ways. She begins a new job, with a new schedule, in a new place. As well, she's adapting from a summer of rest to the busyness of the fall, and for both of us, we had to remember to communicate what we were experiencing as we went through this, rather than letting the stress turn into snippiness or criticism, or passive-aggressive behavior. We weren't always perfect in doing that -- we're still learning -- but we tried to be mindful of that.
Finally, we tried to remember our summer. Partly, this means that we've reminded ourselves how blessed we've been this summer. The art of gratitude is good for the soul, and it's helped us keep our memories alive, even if it brings some sadness with it. Partly, this has meant reimagining my Sabbath ritual (last Friday, my usual day of rest, was one of the best that I've had in a long while!), and learning how to apply the discipline of rest in my life. And partly, for Amy and myself, it's meant remembering and applying some of the lessons that we'd learned together in Arizona. We've decided to invest in regular Skype visits with our hosts at 1010 Ministries as a way to seek encouragement, guidance and accountability.
This will probably be the last entry for me at least on this space (but follow me here -- I plan to keep writing on my other blog about faith and culture!) This Sabbatical has been a tremendous journey -- a great experience of learning, growing, discovering the world, and being refreshed and recharged. I'm deeply grateful -- grateful to so many folks -- and I hope that these thoughts as I've jotted them out here have been enjoyable for you, and perhaps have even given you something to think about. THANK YOU for coming along! And may God bless you as you seek and enjoy the true rest that he offers us.
-- RT
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