If our only prayer is ‘thank you’ it will be enough.
This favorite quote by thirteenth-century Christian mystic and theologian Meister Eckhardt resonated in my heart all week as I prepared this sermon of thanksgiving. As I reflect on our nearly fourteen years of ministry together, my heart is full of gratitude. Thank you, God. Thank you, Central.
It may be “enough,” but I think it’s worth considering in a little more specificity. Central is one of five congregations I’ve served in more than forty years, in settings from rural Iowa to suburban Detroit and Cleveland to downtown Denver. Each church holds a special place in my heart and memory and includes enduring friendships. Each contributed to my growth as a person and as a minister. Each conferred abundant blessings on their communities and to me personally. I am grateful to each congregation. I am grateful to God for this wondrous calling, and for sustaining me through the years.
Today, however, I want to say thank you to you. We have come a long way since that cold January Sunday when I preached as a candidate and you voted to accept me. (my brother Jack was required to recuse himself, as the search committee wanted the vote to be unanimous).
The morning Scripture text expresses the gratitude of another long-term pastor, the apostle Paul, to congregations in Philippi with whom he had an especially close and affectionate relationship. Now I’m not comparing myself to the apostle for lots of reasons, not the least of which is that he wrote this text when imprisoned and soon to be martyred in Rome. But the text captures the joy I feel and the confidence I have in your continued love and faithfulness to Christ’s mission. A reading from the letter of Paul to the Philippian congregations, in the first chapter, verses two through eleven. Listen for God’s Word to you, dear Central. [Philippians 1:2-11]
I had been at Central maybe two months when I was asked to lead a faith formation class, which at the time was held Sunday at 9 o’clock before worship. Of course I was excited for my first teaching gig and eager to have it go well. I arrived at church early and discovered in my rush that I’d left my notes on the printer at home. No problem I thought, and jumped in my car to retrieve them.
One little problem. It was the day of the Colfax Marathon and I had no idea of how disruptive the race was to downtown traffic. I had to weave around blocked intersections, cut through side streets and alleys, sweet-talk traffic patrols, and arrived back at church breathless, sweating, and forty minutes late. I opened the door of the East Classroom. . . . . to find every single person still seated, and was met with a chorus of merry laughter and humorous applause.
It was the first of many, many times when you showed grace instead of recrimination, criticism, or even eye-rolling. You accepted my humanity and did not demand perfection. You supported me even when I messed up, acted in haste, said words I regret, got defensive. And here’s the thing, friends: grace is not simply reparative, it’s generative. With your actions you told me it was okay to be vulnerable, to admit limits, to try things that might not work out.
You cared for me lovingly when my mother died, through my two hip replacements and emergency gall bladder surgery. There have been times of conflict when we didn’t see eye-to-eye on matters of theology, finances, staff decisions, community life. I appreciate that in those uncomfortable times, you mostly defaulted to grace. Not that there wasn’t disappointment, even anguish. But there was never a point when you said, “We’re done.” Instead you pulled up a chair and said “let’s figure it out.” Thank you, Central.
Many of my ministry colleagues admire what you have accomplished over decades. The current pastor nominating committee has commented on how positive Central’s reputation is across the country. You are a congregation known for your ability to adapt to changing realities, to dream big, to risk the unknown, and to invest in a thriving future. We’ve benefited from the witness of our forebears spanning one hundred sixty-four years—whose feats are well-chronicled. We have built upon their shoulders in recent times by serving for a time as a health navigation site to enroll uninsured people into health insurance plans through the Affordable Care Act.
The impetus behind the extensive renovation of the 1957 building came from a desire to serve more effectively in a changing downtown neighborhood. By consciously adopting an entrepreneurial approach we made changes that would yield revenue through concerts, space rental and offering below-market-rate leases to organizations with whom we share purpose: Purple Door Coffee, serving at-risk young people; Rich Garcia law firm, serving the legal needs of immigrants and refugees; the Guadalupe Project, serving families in crisis; and Heartbeat Denver Working Men’s Program, providing support and opportunity to unhoused men.
Sometimes you and I have been accused of being “political,” yet it’s worth remembering that God rules over every arena of human life and calls us to do justice as well as show kindness. Your wholehearted adoption of the Matthew 25 movement inviting vital congregations to address systemic issues (for example, why are there so many unhoused folks in the richest nation on earth? How could gun violence be reduced through legislation?) has broadened our witness through advocacy as well as action.
The costs involved in doing this exceed the dollars spent– which have been considerable. You had to take on debt from the Presbyterian Investment and Loan Program. You’ve had to change. You’ve had to relinquish some control. You’ve had to learn new perspectives. You were the model of cheerful resilience during Covid. And in all this time, I have never heard one of you sigh deeply and say in an aggrieved tone, Well, we’ve never done it this way before. You are risk-takers and people who put your money where your mouth is. You articulated a vision for this church and renewed it again and again: to demonstrate God’s love to one another, our neighbors, and the world through expanded use of this magnificent building. To see Central as a spiritual center and a community one, where people gather for worship and faith formation, and for concerts, speakers, events, and service. Though the largest portion of financial support still comes from your annual giving, we are generating a growing revenue stream that will fund mission and ministries for years to come.
Thank you, Central.
The big things aren’t possible without tending to relationships and our life together. I’ve never gotten over the sense of awe at being invited into your most tender moments: the baptism of your baby, at weddings and renewal of vows, in tiny pre-op rooms before surgery, at the bedside of beloveds as they make their final journey. Friends, it has been a privilege to “be” with you in these times. To celebrate and mourn and dance and learn to let go. You’ve teased me about my tears, and I plead guilty as long as you realize they’re shed in joy as well as sorrow.
I am grateful for outstanding staff over the years, talented and committed individuals who left an impact. You are blessed that our amazing current staff have all said they will stay through this pastoral transition until the new pastor is settled. I am grateful for leaders who gladly share their expertise in financial matters, health care, safety and security, organizational management, marketing, creative design, and more to strengthen our mission.
Every one of you contributes generously something you alone can give: your unique gifts and personality, diverse experiences and perspectives. I’m glad that many of your love languages include food (as does mine) and I cherish the lunches and dinners and coffees and beers we’ve shared. We’ve been together on this journey, united by a common commitment to love God and love our neighbors as ourselves. These years have not been one continuous upward arc—more like a roller coaster. But you’ve kept walking, and I know you will continue to remain steadfast in listening for Jesus’ still, small voice, calling from up ahead. Thank you Central.
Like every congregation of which I’ve been part, you value good preaching, but do you know how much you’re part of that process? The conversations we share, the feedback you give —both positive and critical—the questions you raise and topics you suggest, all go into the mix. We jokingly warn at Theology on Tap that anything you say could end up in a sermon. (I always ask permission, but truly your own insights are a continual source of inspiration).
It’s been fun to try different ways of engaging God’s Word: the creative and stunning Stations of the Cross you created during several Lenten times deepened our experience of Love’s sacrifice; we’ve walked around the neighborhood to meet our neighbors and learn about their needs; used our smart phones to text comments and ask questions; held discussions in pew groups. Your willingness to participate has made me a better preacher and our worship more meaningful. Thank you.
It has been my great joy to sing in Central’s choir under fabulous directors choosing a wide repertoire including classical hymns, gospel and spirituals, world music and more. A month ago we sang Sondheim! Last week, our Malawi friend Nebert led us in singing his own composition in his native tongue. Some of my favorite moments in worship have been made through music and the connection it produces to spirits both human and divine.
But there is something even more descriptive of the character of this community. That is your non-negotiable commitment to an inclusive welcome. Your collective arms are wide open to anyone, to everyone, without exception. You are a sanctuary, a safe place in a world that increasingly isn’t. I’d love to see more diversity in the congregation; more people period. You’ve proven to be exceptional in welcoming people once they cross the threshold.
We still have learning to do about extending welcome beyond our doors to draw people in, to take personal responsibility for inviting others to join us, to invest in ways to highlight our distinctive identity and mission to attract the curious, the de-churched and the seeking. I believe you will, and for that I am grateful.
My gratitude extends beyond the ways you’ve touched my life. This church has been an anchor for Jack and Audrey and the sons they raised with your help. While some people look to the cross or chalice as chief reminder of their faith, Jack says his is a coffee mug, reminder of the deep friendships forged here. Before that, my sister Sue served as associate pastor with John Wilcox, who was a wonderful mentor to her in her early years of ordained ministry.
My mother loved Central through the decades and in the last year of her life benefitted from your kindness. Together with my four siblings, we are establishing the Westfall Family Fund in Central’s endowment as one way we can express our profound gratitude and our trust in the vibrant future God intends for you.
Friends, I really believe it’s good congregations who form good clergy. You’ve been better than good—-you’ve been the best. The words of the apostle resound in my heart today and forever: I thank God every time I remember you, because we have shared in the gospel from the first day until now. And I am confident that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion.
Amen.
