Accidental Delights
“Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people.” (Revelation 21:3)
The United Methodist clergy credentialing process is chock full of interviews, papers, and vote after vote. Sometimes, these votes are painful. Sometimes, they are a delight! On Monday, the clergy session of the Texas Annual Conference voted and prayed over Paul and I, releasing us from covenant and membership with them.
Though it has been four years since we physically moved our home from Houston, this official separation still carries a curtain of sadness. Tears were shed both here and in Houston as dear colleagues sent messages of support and farewell. “How did it go? Did you protest the vote?” I asked one. “Had to be removed by security,” they joked. With my head cast down, it grieves my heart to part from such good people, rich tradition, and inspiring ministry.
Then, I look up.
I look out my window to see this city we have come to love, inhabited by the strange and wonderful people whom we have also come to love and in whom I find delight. On Wednesday, the clergy session of the Oregon-Idaho Annual Conference voted to accept us.
As I said on Sunday and was reminded of this week, we have found yet another place to discover a loving kindness, and to build up with justice. We have this fortune because as the book of Revelation has declared, God’s dwelling place is now among the people: the people of Houston and the people of Portland; the people of the deep south and the people of the northeast; the people of the southwest and the people of the mid-Atlantic.
The Divine dwells with the people in Palestine and Israel; with the people in Russia and Ukraine. The Holy is found amongst the people of every place. In every place we have the chance to delight in God whom we find there and to help one another to find the common good.
What does this mean for First Church?
It means that in every season and in every place, with every person we encounter, small delights may be found. Justice may be carried. Love may flourish. Life may thrive.
In this season of our question asking and discernment, delight may be found. As we find our voice within the needs of the community, justice may be carried. As we say goodbye to dear families and welcome new confirmands and new members in the coming weeks, love may flourish. As we grow in discipleship together by the nurturing of one another’s souls, life may thrive.
Without planning, Paul and I were delighted to cross paths with one of his seminary colleagues. None of us from here, all of us now happen to serve in the same episcopal area. It was his ministry statement with a foundation in Revelation that inspired us on Wednesday as the session was delighted to vote upon his acceptance into full membership and ordination.
Our now shared covenant felt like an accidental delight.
But accidental delights are no accident: delight is a choice we make to experience the goodness of God’s gifts wholeheartedly. Delighting in one another’s presence is a decision to remember that God dwells among the people. To allow ourselves to be delighted is vulnerable and courageous and a balm for our souls.
As of this weekend it’s officially Hood strawberry season. We’ve made it to patio weather, and the northwest summer is a bountiful and soul lifting reminder that even after months of muted gray, brightness does return to our lives. Though there is much to worry over, I allow myself to be delighted by these things.
I offer an invitation for you to do the same: to find God dwelling amongst the people around you and to delight in the imago dei in front of your face. To find the vulnerability and courage to experience the goodness of God’s gifts, even if it is still yet a muted gray season in your life or in your community.
As we carry with us many curtains of sadness, God dwells with us. As we look up, delighting in the complexity of one another and the goodness we can reach together, God dwells with us. Thanks be to God.
With delight,
Pastor Karyn