Using one of the moving ballads from Les Miserables is probably a little melodramatic, but maybe you will indulge me just for today.
I'm sitting in my nearly-bare study at church. I am wondering what happened. The Les Mis lyrics talk about a grief that can't be spoken, though it happens to be a grief that is clearly communicated in the song. Personally, I'm not moved today by the empty chairs, but I am overwhelmed by the empty bookcases - and by the raw image of ending.
I have never walked away from anything in my life.
Until today.
And as painful as it is to take this step, I feel that it just might prove to be my salvation. Without any rancor or bitterness, I am today taking a step toward a healthier and more joyful environment of life and ministry and service. I am today leaving behind some ugliness and pain. And I am doing that with God's blessing.
Even so, the ending part is especially grievous.
And these empty bookcases put a lump in my throat.
The books, by the way, have disappeared a few at a time over the past weeks. Thousands of them, many of them dear friends, now sit in my basement at home. I still haven't figured out that part of the plan, but I'll need to have those books close at hand - and soon. For weeks now, Julie and I have recited as our creed "one step at a time." And today's step brings me to an empty office. And, of course, this grief that can't be spoken.
If you've been reading my blog, you know that I haven't yet figured out exactly how I got from where I was to where I am now. I do already know, however, that there is often in life a strange coming together of the things that we choose to do on our own and the things that are forced upon us. It's not always clear how those two pressures play out, but they are both clearly part of this story that I'm living out right now. Much of what I'm doing in my departure is a matter of my own choice. But my choice is a choice that was made necessary by many other things.
It's complicated.
And unable to sort it all out right now, I'm left with empty bookcases, a basement filled with books, an unspeakable sadness, and . . . a grief that can't be spoken.
[By the way, I plan to keep blogging. For now, I am a preacher without a pulpit, but I intend to keep blogging. If you ever want to make a comment or stay in touch, I can always be reached at [email protected]. (My e-mail address at the church won't be available too much longer, so make sure to put that change of address in your address book.) I am deeply grateful for your love and prayers. Always. But especially during these recent days. You have filled my heart with courage - and I am very, very grateful.]
Today's creed is the same: "one step at a time."
Which means that it's time now . . . even with all these empty bookcases . . . for another step.