Thirty-nine years and one day ago, I was at Colonial Heights Presbyterian Church worshiping.
I was there to get married that day, and this church would become my “home” church a year later. It could be possible to say for me, this Sunday was a “homecoming.”
Colonial Heights Presbyterian Church is in Colonial Heights, Virginia, about fifteen miles south of Richmond on I-95.
Photos of CHPC are attached, and honestly, I could have drawn them from memory. The church is in a well-established neighborhood, surrounded by houses, a couple of other churches, and some small businesses.
Colonial Heights suffered a major loss not too long ago when their covenant pastor passed away unexpectedly. They are still active, but things are quite different now. As the session and presbytery work together, both are asking that all of the POJ add them to your prayer list.
Worship this Sunday was led by a “lay preacher” from northwest Virginia, from a sister POJ congregation. The sermon was based on Exodus 17:1-7 and Matthew 21:23-32, and titled “Yes, Lord…But.” He was open to preaching advice after worship; my only advice was, “We need to get you into the CRE program!”
Following worship, I spent time with several old friends and some I had just met, talking hopefully about the future and calmly about the present. Despite their situation as it is now, they are still a congregation active in ministry, hopeful for what may be accomplished with the presbytery in the future, and fully ready to embrace the future God has in store for them.
I usually write of what I saw and felt; today, I want to share a slightly different view.
This is the congregation that would eventually affirm and send me on my journey into being a pastor. In my time there, the congregation and four pastors would help me finally discern what God’s plan was for me. This happened in ways that were easy to miss at the time.
The first pastor officiated and blessed my marriage to “one of his own.”
The second pastor was the first I met who was my age! CHPC was his first call, and he and I shared many firsts together, the best being the arrival of our firstborns. He was the first pastor I ever knew personally, and he introduced me to the fact that pastors come and go.
The third pastor was a second-career, first-call pastor. We, too, became friends, and along the way, I saw some of the ins and outs of parish ministry. I saw, sadly, how fragile a pastor’s tenure can be despite the good that they help bring about.
The fourth was a clergy couple who showed me what a “seasoned” pastor might look like. Lessons learned at different times and places were kept to help with future needs. They also taught me about odd things, such as “Presbyterianism” and the Book of Order!
Woven through all of this along the way, my understanding of what members of churches “should be” matured. This included the actions of attending, serving, accepting leadership roles, belonging to committees, and knowing your neighbors. It led to serving as a ruling elder and, in time, as a teaching elder.
These are some of the things given to me by CHPC.
When we look at congregations, the things we take little notice of are often the big moments in the life of someone in their midst. Sitting in worship there Sunday was truly special and memorable, and despite all that this church has done for me, no one ever asked for a “thank you.”
I suppose they just knew I was.
Still, “Thank you.”
Till my next journey,
Kerry
