Deep Calls to Deep
by David Mercer
Home
*
" Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls...."
(Psalm 42:7)
(Psalm 42:7)
Here are some of my meditations, ideas, and opinions. They focus on the spiritual aspects of living, the church, and my life in ministry.
Home*
Home
*
Home
*
Home
*
All rights reserved, copyright © 2008 by David Mercer
Home
*
Home
*
Previous Entries:
May 14, 2008
Thank You for Struggling
Seminary was a surprising joy from the beginning. The students liked each other and the professors were interested in our success. But it was a difficult journey, the size of which was often daunting. However, I remember when I quit being afraid.
There was one particular class where I struggled just to keep up. It was full of highbrow theological terms and theories that almost made the hard drive in my head crash. I remember looking at my classmates as they listened raptly, articulated smart questions, and pecked away at their laptops in feverish note taking, while I sat with my pen poised and longed for a single coherent thought to make its way into my notebook.
Everyone understands this stuff but me, I thought.
I finished the class with one of the lowest grades I made in seminary, and it embarrassed me how poorly I did.
I had occasion to share with the professor how much I struggled in his class, which couldn’t have surprised him, as he had graded my assignments. He nodded with compassion and said in his soft kind voice, “thank you for struggling.”
He probably doesn’t know how much those words blessed me. It provided a turning point where my spirit began to unclench and I quit being afraid of failing. I began to enjoy the challenge of the journey rather than feel the pressure.
This was not the only time I received encouragement. The faculty at Phillips Theological Seminary is quite affirming. But these were the words and this was the moment when I became happy in the work.
There was one particular class where I struggled just to keep up. It was full of highbrow theological terms and theories that almost made the hard drive in my head crash. I remember looking at my classmates as they listened raptly, articulated smart questions, and pecked away at their laptops in feverish note taking, while I sat with my pen poised and longed for a single coherent thought to make its way into my notebook.
Everyone understands this stuff but me, I thought.
I finished the class with one of the lowest grades I made in seminary, and it embarrassed me how poorly I did.
I had occasion to share with the professor how much I struggled in his class, which couldn’t have surprised him, as he had graded my assignments. He nodded with compassion and said in his soft kind voice, “thank you for struggling.”
He probably doesn’t know how much those words blessed me. It provided a turning point where my spirit began to unclench and I quit being afraid of failing. I began to enjoy the challenge of the journey rather than feel the pressure.
This was not the only time I received encouragement. The faculty at Phillips Theological Seminary is quite affirming. But these were the words and this was the moment when I became happy in the work.
Well, it’s done. Yesterday, I walked across the stage and received my diploma for my Master’s of Divinity. This morning in church I stood before the congregation and held it before them as they applauded.
I, in turn, applaud them.
It has taken a little over five years to get it done. I couldn’t have accomplished it without the help and support, first from Forgan/Gate United Methodist Churches, and then Minco First United Methodist Church, all of Oklahoma. I may have been their minister, but they also took care of me and my family, making it possible to attend school.
I have been with Minco for four and a half years. They were praying for me before I arrived and have continued to do so throughout my time with them. It turns out that I will be leaving them shortly to begin a new work with another fine church.
I wish I could find the words to express my love and gratitude for Minco FUMC. They helped me reclaim my joy in ministry, and I also found healing from some lingering aftereffects of a health crisis a few years back.
They have the gift of healing, and I am actually one among many who have discovered this.
Minco has also been good to my family, showing love to my wife and children, who are now happier than I’ve ever seen them—I know that came from being with the people of this church.
I am a better person and a better minister because of Minco. The words “thank-you” and “I love you” and “I’ll miss you terribly” are quite inadequate, but they are the one only ones I can find to express my feelings.
May 18, 2008
Goodbye to a Lovely Church
___________________
Making the Change
June 9, 2008
Well, we’ve made the move. It took two months to organize our home for moving, two days to load the truck, and two hours to unload it when we got here. It’ll take at least two years before we get everything organized!
I’m still getting used to the United Methodist way of doing things. The sudden decision by the leadership to relocate me is rather jarring. And I’ve heard members of the laity share their distress about the preacher being jerked from a church that is doing well and replacing him with some strange new person.
But there’s another perspective:
I have only warm feelings toward the church I leave behind, whereas before I was in the UMC, I usually left a congregation with a certain amount of woundedness, and at times, even bitterness. However the memories I have of the last two United Methodist congregations are happy ones, albeit they are tinged with the melancholy of my being separated from dear friends.
The church I’ve moved to also has warm feelings about their former pastor. They simply loved him. There were no big conflicts centering on him. Everyone got to show their affection for him, and they can still talk openly about him even now. And though they are sad about losing him, they have been quite gracious to me as I make the transition to a new place.
It’s not perfect, but it’s much better than the way other denominations change pastors.
I’m still getting used to the United Methodist way of doing things. The sudden decision by the leadership to relocate me is rather jarring. And I’ve heard members of the laity share their distress about the preacher being jerked from a church that is doing well and replacing him with some strange new person.
But there’s another perspective:
I have only warm feelings toward the church I leave behind, whereas before I was in the UMC, I usually left a congregation with a certain amount of woundedness, and at times, even bitterness. However the memories I have of the last two United Methodist congregations are happy ones, albeit they are tinged with the melancholy of my being separated from dear friends.
The church I’ve moved to also has warm feelings about their former pastor. They simply loved him. There were no big conflicts centering on him. Everyone got to show their affection for him, and they can still talk openly about him even now. And though they are sad about losing him, they have been quite gracious to me as I make the transition to a new place.
It’s not perfect, but it’s much better than the way other denominations change pastors.
If you watch Disney movies going back the last fifty years, you’ll see that Dad is usually portrayed as a bumbling guy who doesn’t have a clue. Mom and the kids have to connive in order to work around his mistakes.
Don’t believe it. The family needs Dad.
Lots of fathers do not get to see their children often because of the realities of divorce and child custody. It’s easy for them to think their love doesn’t really matter, that perhaps the children are better off without them.
Don’t believe it. Hang in there and see the kids when you have the chance. Don’t miss the weekend opportunities and the holidays that are yours. The children need you.
A Dad’s love is half the equation. He gives stability to the family. It’s part of what helps a child learn to be brave and persevere. A father’s love helps children understand who they are.
Dads, you are indispensible. Thank you for standing up to do the job.
Don’t believe it. The family needs Dad.
Lots of fathers do not get to see their children often because of the realities of divorce and child custody. It’s easy for them to think their love doesn’t really matter, that perhaps the children are better off without them.
Don’t believe it. Hang in there and see the kids when you have the chance. Don’t miss the weekend opportunities and the holidays that are yours. The children need you.
A Dad’s love is half the equation. He gives stability to the family. It’s part of what helps a child learn to be brave and persevere. A father’s love helps children understand who they are.
Dads, you are indispensible. Thank you for standing up to do the job.
June 15, 2008
To the Dads:
June 16, 2008
Yesterday, for Father’s Day, my family gave me a card with a picture of Indiana Jones on the front. He had the taut muscles, a flashing machete, and of course the hat. It read, “to a dad who can handle just about any situation.”
When I opened the card, the music from the movie started playing, and the inside page read, “plus, you do all your own STUNTS.”
If that includes working the remote for the TV while eating a sandwich, I guess they’re right.
I wrote an essay this morning while thinking about my role as father, which I’ll share with you in this week’s featured article.
When I opened the card, the music from the movie started playing, and the inside page read, “plus, you do all your own STUNTS.”
If that includes working the remote for the TV while eating a sandwich, I guess they’re right.
I wrote an essay this morning while thinking about my role as father, which I’ll share with you in this week’s featured article.
Post Father's Day Reflection
June 25, 2008
Whose Funeral Was It?
It’s my first boneheaded move on the new job.
To begin, it was only a week after I moved in and already there was a funeral. Even though I was brand new, I was not particularly anxious. After all, funerals are my thing. People come for miles to hear my funeral sermons.
As it turns out I had had a good visit with the woman before she passed. I also had several nice visits with the family before the service, where they shared many stories that revealed a rich wonderful life with lots of love and fun and humor.
So at the service, I’m at my most eloquent, sharing those stories and telling how Wilma was in a better place.
Only her name was not Wilma.
I have nightmares of getting the name wrong at a funerals, weddings, and baptisms. That’s why I always write the name down in big letters right in front of me. And I took that precaution here, too.
But I still got it wrong. Someone from the family finally corrected me in the middle of the service and it brought me to a full stop while my face turned hot.
The family was very gracious and pretty much saved the day. Said their mother would have thought it was funny. Even suggested she had something to do with causing my faux pas.
I had been trying to figure out how to blame it on someone else, and they actually helped me out.
Here’s another amazing thing: While the church had been quite nice since I moved in, we were all a bit anxious about the change. When I blundered, I saw the people relax and reveal their true warmth and grace toward me.
I wonder if they weren’t relieved to find out that their pastor was just a regular human being.
Some days I’m more human than others!
Well, with that little revelation out of the way, I guess we'll all be able to get to work now.
I’m grateful that grace can turn a major embarrassment into an opportunity for affection—not to mention humility.
To begin, it was only a week after I moved in and already there was a funeral. Even though I was brand new, I was not particularly anxious. After all, funerals are my thing. People come for miles to hear my funeral sermons.
As it turns out I had had a good visit with the woman before she passed. I also had several nice visits with the family before the service, where they shared many stories that revealed a rich wonderful life with lots of love and fun and humor.
So at the service, I’m at my most eloquent, sharing those stories and telling how Wilma was in a better place.
Only her name was not Wilma.
I have nightmares of getting the name wrong at a funerals, weddings, and baptisms. That’s why I always write the name down in big letters right in front of me. And I took that precaution here, too.
But I still got it wrong. Someone from the family finally corrected me in the middle of the service and it brought me to a full stop while my face turned hot.
The family was very gracious and pretty much saved the day. Said their mother would have thought it was funny. Even suggested she had something to do with causing my faux pas.
I had been trying to figure out how to blame it on someone else, and they actually helped me out.
Here’s another amazing thing: While the church had been quite nice since I moved in, we were all a bit anxious about the change. When I blundered, I saw the people relax and reveal their true warmth and grace toward me.
I wonder if they weren’t relieved to find out that their pastor was just a regular human being.
Some days I’m more human than others!
Well, with that little revelation out of the way, I guess we'll all be able to get to work now.
I’m grateful that grace can turn a major embarrassment into an opportunity for affection—not to mention humility.