Perhaps it is due to the nature of events recently, but I am feeling particularly nostalgic and sentimental.
In about a month, my first pastoral call will come to a close. Neither me nor the church wanted this call to end, but the Lord's providence is not dependent upon human wills. Since the Fall of 2011, I have served in a church that God has blessed to triple in size and radically transform. The growth and the transformation did not result in a continuing income, and my call is to be content with that outcome.
I am privileged and blessed to have enjoyed this experience. The senior pastor, a dear elder brother and friend, knew my precarious position as a Army Reserve chaplain and offered me an opportunity to serve and grow. Who knows where the Lord would have had me if not at Sterling? But in His sweet grace, He has given me years of preaching and teaching experience, years of being humbled and learning what it means to take His people into my heart.
For several long months, with new baby in tow, the Roberts household pondered what the Lord would have for us in the coming days. Some days have been bright with contentment and hope; others darkened by the poison of resentment and anxiety. But it is only within our power to label the days based on our petty feelings, not ordain the days or define their purpose. That power belongs to the Lord alone, and as His providence is always holy, wise, and powerful, it doesn't really matter what our feelings are. The weight of His heart, not our own, defines our lives.
Last night, we bought tickets to Vancouver for a portion of the summer to fill a pulpit for a friend who is traveling back home to Malawi to visit his family. An opportunity like this--to assist a friend, travel to and live in a very different location, and shepherd another grouping of God's flock--is only possible because I am soon to be "under-employed." Who would believe that such a circumstance would be a blessing? But that is what we must always learn anew.
Until we leave, the Army will be providing me with additional duties that will supplement our income and help steady some of the "lean" season in Vancouver. When I return, I may have a full-time teaching position waiting for me, alongside my regular chaplaincy duties. Speaking of which, I have grown increasingly attached to my new unit at Ft. Meade. The Gospel opportunities are endless. And I may be permitted to continue teaching "boot camp"--fitness classes that I have taught in NoVa for the past couple of months under the oversight of a fellow believer and former Army Ranger.
And I will continue to be able to serve the flock at Sterling--not regularly, mind you, but this will continue to be our particular corner of the Kingdom for a time. By God's grace, I continue to form more connections with the community here. I gave the benediction for a Memorial Day ceremony today, led by the local American Legion. I may have an opportunity to be their "chaplain" as well.
On a day like today, I realize that the old wounds still linger. Yesterday, I preached a church in a remote town in southern Maryland and had the opportunity to teach on the work of the Army chaplain. I soon as I started talking about Dave Lyon, my voice broke. It's pretty pitiful to hear me in such moments. I don't know how to cry. It sounds like somebody is choking on a turkey bone.
Today, on Memorial Day, I remember CPT David Lyon, United States Air Force, and SPC Matthew Serpa, United States Army. I remember the families they left behind, and the thousands of families who have an empty seat at the dinner table. That puts the present uncertainty in perspective.
Paraphrasing Calvin, it is a pitiable thing when one's obsession with life becomes more important than one's purpose in life. May I always remember that my purpose is bound to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who has enabled me to live for the glory of God and enjoy Him forever.
