Grateful Trepidation (Newsletter)

         April 15, 1996. Tax Day. My first day as pastor of Cross Roads Presbyterian Church in Mebane, NC.

         That afternoon, to help me get started Miss Edith and her brother Henry B. drove me to the local hospital to visit Ms. Mitchell. I wore a tie and a coat. Except for funerals and weddings, that may have been the last time I did that.

         I delivered my first Sunday sermon on April 21. But the day before, I did my first funeral. I never met the 42-year-old woman. Who had just been released from prison. Who died when her Ford Probe hit a telephone pole at 100mph. With police in pursuit. A few of us gathered around her grave. The woman’s mother sat in a folding chair in the shade of a green canvas tent, on green indoor/outdoor carpet that the funeral home spread over the green grass next to the brown dirt. To bury her only child.

I didn’t say much. “Perhaps the great witness of her life was that she was so fully and eternally loved by her mother.” That was the core of it. I had never done a funeral before. And to have to start that way…wow. But life and death don’t tend to respect a given person’s preparation for tragedy.

Or joy, for that matter. More than once I’ve visited with a family watching a loved one take his or her last, slow breaths in this life, then walked down the hospital stairs to the maternity ward where another family was watching in awe as another loved one was taking his or her first breaths. There is more sadness in one of those rooms and more rejoicing in the other. But there is usually trepidation in both.

Trepidation – as I use the word – is endemic to faith. Unlike fear, trepidation is simply the indication that we’re moving forward with something important to us and to others, in spite of the inevitable uncertainties.

         Trepidation, uncertainty, self-doubt, outright failures, you name it, all of these things and more have been daily companions in this journey. In twenty years of ministry, I’ve questioned my call only once. Per day. Looking back, would I do anything differently? You bet. The one thing I would not have done differently is simply to have started. I cannot imagine doing anything else. (Sure, my wife will corroborate that. You don’t have to ask her. Please.) Serving as a pastor in the Household of God has granted me opportunities to grow spiritually, intellectually, creatively, personally…and circumferentially (Love those potlucks!).

I am more grateful than words can express to the wonderful folks at Jonesborough, Shelby, and Cross Roads Presbyterian Churches. You’ve welcomed me and encouraged me. You’ve been patient with me and taught me so many things. Thank you.

I love every one of you.

                                                               Peace,

                                                                        Allen