On Guest Preaching on Pastor’s Appreciation Day

With thanks to the Rev. John Edgerton and the good people of First United Church of Oak Park

Last Sunday (October 9), I had the chance to preach for the first time since I left Plymouth back in late July. Lucas and I drove to First United Church of Oak Park for the opportunity where my friend and colleague, the Rev. John Edgerton, is lead pastor. John and I have known each other since our first term of Divinity School over sixteen years ago and have remained close friends and part of a devoted covenant group (gathering each year to share stories of life and ministry and to seek the wisdom of the group) ever since.

Covenant Group circa 2016. L-R: John Edgerton, Lindsey Braun, Vince Amlin, and Rebecca Anderson.

It was a real joy to spend time with John and his family, to see the place and meet some of the people with whom he is engaged in ministry, and to see if I remembered how to preach. I wasn’t thinking about it at the time, but Sunday also happened to be Pastor’s Appreciation Day. I’ll say more about this later but having someone offer pulpit supply can be a really lovely way to appreciate your pastor.

First United is a beautiful limestone building, created with the outline of an English Gothic Cathedral. It sits on Lake Street across from the Frank Lloyd Wright designed Unity Temple. When we walked up the stairs through the main entrance to the sanctuary, I felt my heart skip. There is something about sacred architecture that lifts the soul. And there is something about being in a place in person that grounds you in its reality. It felt much bigger than my intimate experience of worshiping with these good folks online the week before.

Street view of First United from Lake Street.

Sanctuary view from the pulpit. Volunteers installing an art installation of hundreds (maybe thousands) of white paper doves. Behind them, a huge globe (10+ feet in diameter) hangs above the center of the sanctuary.

Sanctuary view from the congregation. Looking up at the installed of peace doves and the organ pipes.

The few volunteers who were there when we arrived were lovely and welcoming and I still felt nervous. Who were the people I’d be preaching to? Was the message I had prepared something they needed to hear? Would the Spirit show up? I needed to do a sound check and review my manuscript, but then I was free and there were still forty minutes until the service started. Lucas and I went for a little walkabout, taking in the neighborhood surrounding the church on a truly glorious fall morning. There were people and dogs about, interesting architecture to take in, a war memorial in Scoville Park that was old enough not to designate World War I as the first of two, a beautiful public library.

We headed back into the sanctuary and, as I brought my focus back to what I was there to do, I became keenly aware of all I was not doing. I was not double checking that the coffee had been made. I was not greeting volunteers by name as they arrived and making sure they had what they needed to do their work. I was not teaching or preparing to teach a class for adults or children. I was not checking in with the music director, the online streaming volunteer, the sound guys. I was not meeting the guest preacher to make sure she had a safe place to stow her purse. I was not catching and cataloguing information about who had an upcoming medical procedure for prayer and follow-up. I was not responding to a concern about why the livestream wasn’t working five minutes into the service. I was not greeting people with knowledge of their backstory and what’s going on in their lives right now. I was not preaching to people with knowledge of their backstory and what’s going on in their lives right now.

What I was doing was preaching a message I had prepared and receiving the hospitality of the congregation. It felt super breezy and light. Like being on the moon. There was somehow less gravity to the whole thing. It wasn’t bad. I just didn’t have the gift and the burden of relationship with this particular community that kind of wrap you into the same center of gravity. Instead, I had parachuted in to see my friend and share a message that was simple and straight forward and (I hope) good news as we worshiped God together.

Now I’m editorializing a bit, but the whole experience made me feel that relationship and trust are really key to good preaching. I think what I offered was acceptable and maybe even good, but it wasn’t going to knock anybody’s socks off because we don’t know each other and we haven’t entered into the covenant of trust that happens when a pastor accepts a call to a congregation. The other thing that struck me so clearly (because it was the first time I didn’t have it) was my awareness of what pastors (or rabbis or imams or other religious or spiritual leaders) are carrying on behalf of their community. Pay attention the to gravity and the weight of that cumulative burden. While nobody really wants a pastor who’s floating around on the moon, you also don’t want your pastor to feel the crushing gravity of Jupiter while the congregation is walking around on earth. Occasional pulpit supply or exchange where someone parachutes in (or your pastor gets to parachute out and experience the strange lightness of offering a message without the responsibility of doing or answering for anything else) has some wisdom to it.

Bottom line, if you’re a member of a religious or spiritual community and you haven’t expressed your gratitude for your leaders in a while, do it!

Thanks, John!!