Final Thoughts

Isaiah 11:1-9; John 3:16-17

          What does a pastor say in his final sermon?  I’ve been doing this almost every Sunday for forty years.  Actually, longer than that. I preached my first sermon when I was fifteen years old.  You can do that in the Baptist church, but I don’t recommend it.  My poor father, who is here, drove me to my first preaching engagements and suffered through those sermons.

          I must tell you first how blessed I feel.  Thank you for being here.  You minister to me by your presence.  My family.  My extended family.  Friends from former churches.  Friends from here in town.  Friends from the Brazilian community.  Neighbors from New Hope.  And some of you Weatherly folks I’ve not seen in a while!  Thank you all for being here.  I’m blessed.  I never aspired to climb the ecclesiastical ladder.  I wanted to find a church where I was theologically compatible, which was a big challenge, plant myself there, and grow alongside a congregation.  A long tenure, twenty-four years, has had many rewards.  Deep relationships.  I think of the children who were born in my early years.  I was at the hospital when they were born.  I officiated their dedication into the church.  I baptized them.  I’ve seen them off to college and even officiated a few of their weddings.  That kind of continuity with families, with people, has been deeply rewarding for me.

          There are some downsides to a long tenure, though.  I’ve buried a lot of people I loved dearly.  I think of Ray Gargus, who chaired the search committee that recommended me here.  Shelba Siniard, who was on that committee.  Pete Garrett too.  I think of people like Bill Gerstlauer.  Ray and Memorie Elliott.  Willa Fortner.  Leanna Jimmerson.  Jeri Jackson.  Eva Mae Nunnally.  Unfortunately, the list is far too long to mention them all.  Saints.  God’s faithful.

          I must also tell you thank you for allowing me to be free to share my honest beliefs, many of which are not orthodox.  This pulpit has been free, and I’ve tried to grant just as much freedom to the pews.  That’s the way we do things as Baptists.  We don’t force people to conform.  At least, our kind of Baptists don’t.  We wrestled with the issue of homosexuality.  That was difficult.  We got disfellowshipped from the Southern Baptist Convention and the Madison Baptist Association.  If you’re not familiar with church language, that means kicked out.  I look at how other churches and denominations have addressed that issue, and I think we did better than most.  We were able to create a safe place here for thoughtful Christians who identify as LGBTQ.  I went to Mexico to study the issue of immigration.  That’s a difficult issue not just for our country but for churches.  Every week we have dozens of immigrants here studying English as a second language, learning how to live in a new country, taking citizenship classes, and finding friendship. Becky, you have done remarkable work there, and after a break I will join you.  We’ve developed ecumenical and interfaith partnerships, building bridges across religious divides.  I’ve been able to speak at many Methodist, Catholic, Presbyterian, Episcopalian, and Lutheran churches across the city.  I was invited to speak at Temple B’nai Sholom, and the rabbi spoke here.  I even spoke at the Huntsville Islamic Center and had groups from there lead discussions here.  I am most proud of our partnership with Church Street Cumberland Presbyterian Church, an African American congregation downtown. Their pastor, Dr. Mitchell Walker, and I have become close friends.  I know some of you have formed friendships with some of their members.  Also, some of us have sweated together in Kentucky, working side by side building affordable housing in one of the poorest regions in the country.  I think we built thirty-two or three houses until they changed their model a few years ago.  We explored the meaning of human disability.  Why does it happen?  Where is God when it happens?  And we provided care for children with special needs.  I could mention many other things.  You granted me freedom to think, explore, and be honest, and that mattered to me.  Thank you.

          Do you mind if I reminisce for a few minutes?  My first pastorate was on Rt. 4 in Etowah County.  Union Chapel Baptist Church.  It is in a community named Riddles Bend, so during my tenure we changed the name to Riddles Bend Baptist Church.  Wonderful people.  Salt of the earth.  I did a funeral for a member of that church last year.  From there, I went to the Baptist convention in Washington, D. C.    I was pastor of a church near Andrews Air Force Base.  It was a church a lot like Weatherly.  Great people.  We stay in touch with some of them still.  Then I went to Indian Springs First Baptist Church, just south of Birmingham.  More great people.  Some of them are here.  Tom and Kelly, Sam and Nedra, thank you for being here.

          In the spring of 1999, Dr. Fisher Humphreys called me to ask if he could recommend me to this church.  He was a theology professor at Beeson Divinity School and the interim pastor here.  I knew of this church and I knew of Todd Wilson, the previous pastor.  Ray Gargus called, and he and I connected immediately.  I then had a series of meetings with the search committee.  I’ve never told you this, but at the end of each meeting, I thought it was over.  “How did it go?” Kelly would ask.  “Not good,” I’d say.  “I think this may be the end of the road.”  Then Ray would call back.  We’d meet again.  Same feeling.  In October of 1999, the committee recommended me to be your fourth pastor.  My first Sunday was the first Sunday in December.  I will actually be on annual leave until the middle of December, making my tenure twenty-four years.

          There have been many important people in my life, people who shaped me.  I feel a need to acknowledge a few of them.  I saw my old youth minister, Bud Turner, at a funeral a couple of weeks ago.  He was important to me.  The late Dr. Nelson Kuykendall, the pastor who baptized, licensed, and ordained me.  Professors like Karen Joines, Dub Edwards, Mabry Lunceford, and Sigard Bryan at Samford University.  And professors like Frank Tupper, Bill Leonard, David Meuller, Dale Moody, and others at Southern Seminary.  When I was fifteen and told my father that I wanted to go into the ministry, he said, “I’m not surprised.”  He paid for me to go to Samford.  Thank you, dad. 

          I’ve always known I’ve stood on broad shoulders here.  The late Rev. Harold Shirley was our first pastor.  It was great to have him here for our church’s fiftieth anniversary.  He died shortly after that.  Dr. David Burhans followed him.  He went on to have a distinguished career at the University of Virginia.  David died last year.  Dr. Todd Wilson called me last week.  Todd was my predecessor.  He was here for twenty-three years.  Todd has been very supportive of me through the years.  Broad shoulders.

          I must take a moment and say a word about my amazing and gifted wife.  You’ve heard the saying, “Behind every successful man is a surprised mother-in-law.”  Well, that is one version of it.  Behind me was my wife, who believed in me, who supported me, and who dove into the church as deeply as I did.  She did this while excelling at her own profession and rearing three remarkable daughters, one with complicated special needs.  Kelly, thank you.

          Those are all important things for me to say in my final sermon.  But they are not the most important things I want to say today.  My first sermon at Union Chapel Baptist Church in Etowah County came from John 3:16-17.  I chose that text deliberately because it’s what I wanted my ministry to be about.  So, I choose it again today for my final sermon.    As Eugene Worley said Wednesday night, the bookends of my ministry.  You see, that’s the most important thing I can tell you.  That God is love, and love loves.  Unfortunately, the church through the ages has painted another picture of God, an angry, capricious, and vengeful God.  And many people carry that image of God in their minds.  They can say that God is love and that love loves, but lurking underneath their words is that image of an angry God.  They really believe, perhaps the better word is fear, God is mad at them.  God wants to punish them.  That’s what’s behind these words, “What have I done to deserve this?”  That question presumes that God has punished them for some sin they committed.  Why?  Well, that’s what God does.  God is angry, and God is in the punishing business.

          God is not mad at you.  God does not punish you.  God made you.  Just the way you are.  Imperfections and all.  God made us and loves us and challenges us to live into our best.  To love each other.  To work together to build bridges of understanding and peace.  To build a world where race doesn’t matter, where sexual orientation doesn’t matter, where all the world’s labels don’t matter.  God challenges us to build a world where all God’s creation can be at peace. 

          So here’s my final thought as your pastor:

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.  Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be save through him.

          Amen.

          We’re going to sing our closing hymn now.  As we do, I invite our Deacon Council Chairwoman, Terri Caniglia, to meet me here at the front.  I will return to her this shepherd’s staff and ask that she hold it until your next shepherd arrives.  Then present it to him or her.