On Suicide

Last night came the news that fills the airwaves, Twitterverse and conversations today: actor and comedian Robin Williams died yesterday in what authorities and his family believe was a suicide. His final act, that of taking his own life, is now the most discussed and analyzed moment of his life.

The reactions to this news have been, well, predictable. And of those was one comment I saw as I read through my Facebook friends’ status posts on his death: “Sad, but predictable.”

I do not know the man who posted this comment to one of the posts of one of my colleagues. It is surely possible his reaction comes from a sadly-experienced knowledge of suicide from someone close to him. All suicides, like all lives, are different. But there is something sad and wrong about that sentiment—one which so many share even if they don’t say it out loud. Something that I also used to agree with.

Until two months ago. On Sunday, June 15, 2014 (Father’s Day—more about that later) my mother discovered that my brother Dan had taken his own life. Later when we attempted to reconstruct a timeline of Dan’s last days, we came to believe his life most likely ended in the early morning hours of Friday, June 13^th.

I used to think suicide was fairly predictable. I used to believe it was the crescendo of a life of depression, pain and burdens which could no longer be born. It is some of that. And perhaps sometimes it is predictable. But mostly, I believe, it is not.

Suicide is not predictable because though there is often a certain twisted logic to it, no reasonable assessment of the circumstances shows that it is the only option even in the darkest of times. And many people find themselves in such dark places and come out of it. As I read about suicide after Dan’s death, I was surprised to discover that the most common sentiment of those who attempt suicide (those who fail in their attempt and live to tell the story) is not decisiveness, but rather ambivalence. I always figured someone would weigh all options before turning to the option of last resort. For most people, however, this seems not to be the case.

I had learned, in my training working in residence life at two colleges and as a pastor, that people who decide to commit suicide often have a peace about them once they made the decision. That led me to believe the decision was one that bought closure and peace, and one which was thought out in advance. You know, you see in the movies that people decide, make plans, write a note, etc.

Yes, for some people, that is how it happens. The hours and days leading up to their suicide can in retrospect provide many clues. The problem is for most of us, who do not struggle daily with depression and anxiety that clouds our emotions and thoughts, we don’t walk around keyed into such signs. Even more, for many people, they do not decide until the moment they act. And, in fact, are not, even in that moment, what we would consider “decided.” Their actions are not the well-thought-out plans of a reasonable though clouded assessment of their lives. Seeing before them several options, they, in that moment, chose to try one. The thing is, for most, there is no un-doing it.

Some reports say that only a third or fewer people who commit suicide leave suicide notes. My brother did not. And the truth is, even a note wouldn’t give you what was all in their minds—and in many cases such notes fail to offer peace or even a reasoning that is logical or comforting to those left behind.

Indeed, in the vast majority of cases of suicide, there ARE clues. Or risk factors. Robin Williams had at least three: a history of mental illness, a recent major medical procedure (a heart procedure—such procedures can wreak havoc on the already-fragile chemical balance of someone with mental illness) and a recent addiction relapse and treatment.

My brother was dealing with many stresses in his final days. Financial pressures were overwhelming (I don’t know for certain precisely how these weighed on him but I know just learning the depth of these stressed me out after his death). Though he faced a welcome change in his job (Dan was a United Methodist pastor and was about to start a two new churches), the list of things to be attended to for the transition was enormous. And perhaps most overwhelming of all, our father had died a year earlier of a sudden heart attack (and our paternal grandfather had died several months later). For all that weighed on Dan, I cannot find it to be coincidental that he took his life Father’s Day weekend.

Given all of those pressures, though, was Dan’s suicide predictable? And if so, at what point did it become so? Was it when he was conceived and born—was his DNA and inherited body chemistry such that he was a ticking time bomb? Was it as we all lived through our father’s horrific struggle with bipolar depression, which Dan at times bore the brunt of, and which threatened to take my father’s life during the more than a decade that he struggled to get well? Was Dan’s suicide predictable when he contemplated suicide in college but reached out for help and received treatment that set him on a healthy path that lasted a long time? Was it predictable when he heard a call to ministry, a profession with some rather intimidating rates of mental illness, stress and anxiety?

Was Dan’s suicide predictable the moment our father died—a father he had worked years to rebuild a relationship with? A father who was perhaps one of the few people who really “got” Dan? Was it predictable when I found him sobbing uncontrollably on my front porch the night Dad died? Was it predictable when we consoled ourselves (Dan and I had lived through Dad’s illness more aware than our younger brother and sister because we had been old enough to be aware of what was happening) that at least Dad never had to lose everything all over again—that his mental illness never came back as it had before?

And if any of these things was the point at which Dan’s suicide became predictable, was there anything anyone could have done? What about all the times we tried to help him make better financial decisions—so he didn’t end up in the position he then found himself? What about the times he was encouraged or forced to seek help? And what about all the things that were good about Dan’s life? Were those irrelevant in the span of his life?

What about all the friends Dan had and the lives he touched? What about all the notes of thanks for his ministry that we found throughout his office (which he had received over the years—not just as he prepared for his transition)? What about his joy in being an uncle and the adoration my girls had for him? What about the closeness we shared as siblings after the struggles we had walked through together? What about ALL THE PEOPLE who had reached out to him over the years who he KNEW were there to help him. Why weren’t these good things as equally predictive for his actions?

I do not believe Dan’s death was predictable. Because I believe many people fight the same demons and do not, in one final act, make their most tragic decision. I don’t think Dan should be let off the hook for his final, worst decision. I believe he was hurting and I wish we had known how seriously he was considering suicide. Dan HAD had a rough year, especially in recent months. But he was getting better. Actually, truly getting better. I believe he had begun taking better care of himself--physically and also his mental health, attending to his medications and habits better. Perhaps it was just as things were getting better that he began to recognize the cost of some of his choices. Maybe it was precisely the getting better and having more energy part that was the final straw (the counselor who has helped me during this time pointed out that suicide requires a certain level of energy that people in the deepest parts of depression often lack).

But I also know, from years with a father who struggled (as far as I was aware, far more severely) with mental illness than Dan ever did, that mental illness is hard, long, and wearying for the person suffering and those around them. And I know that there are times of joy and peace and hope even in the worst struggles with it, and that the vast majority of people are able to battle it successfully, some even heroically.

I believe that if Dan were here today, he would mourn his final act as much if not more than any of us. I believe that even with all that was burdening him, he would say he did not fully understand the consequences of his actions. I believe he would say he wished he HAD reached out. And done something, anything, differently. And certainly made a different final decision in those moments. I believe he would not have wanted our mother to bear the grief she carries, and he would have been horrified with the legacy and story that is now part of his nieces' lives because of his final decision.

I do not believe suicide is either a valiant or predictable action. I believe that if you are struggling today with stresses, illness and burdens that seem overwhelming, you can find help and live a life not controlled by those. It may (and likely will be) some hard work. I know that because my father was there too. He did pay a heavy price for his illness and his choices, but he walked through it—even from the point of seriously considering suicide. If suicide is merely predictable, we would have lost Dad many, many years earlier.

I have been pondering what to say about suicide, and I hadn’t been ready to yet, but I felt compelled to today as it is a topic on people’s minds. Indeed, I worry my thoughts and feelings are still to raw and I feel incredible pressure to say things the right way. I am sure there are better words to be said, but these are what I have today.

In the wake of Dan’s death, the Rob Thomas song, “Maybe Someday,” became a powerful reminder to me of the importance of living out loud. Of sharing with each other and being open to asking for help. My prayer is that losses like Dan and Robin Williams, though they can never be redeemed or made right for those left behind, can become an impetus for us to talk openly about mental health, become aware of resources out there, make us compassionate towards one another, and understand that we have meaningful choices to make that have consequences not only for our own lives but for the lives of those around us and indeed the world.

If you are struggling with depression or having thoughts of suicide, please reach out. You can reach the suicide prevention hotline at 1-800-273-8255 or by visiting http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/. Many local communities and basically all college campuses also have their own hotlines as well. If you feel on the verge of hurting yourself, you can also call 911.

If you are dealing with a loved one who is struggling with mental illness, or you, like me, have lost someone to suicide, there are also many resources for you as well. Find a counselor or support group in your area. Don’t keep it in.

Two resources I found helpful in the wake of Dan’s suicide were:

http://www.suicidology.org/c/document_library/get_file?folderId=229&name=DLFE-73.pdf

http://eatthinkbemerry.com/2014/06/a-perspective-on-suicide/

You do not walk this journey alone. Ever.

Grace and Peace.

Sarah

Kids and Faith: A Starting Place

Years ago, at the first church I served, I had the opportunity to do the wedding for a young adult couple with a mixed religious background. Neither were really active in a faith community at the time, though the groom's parents were very active at the church. The bride had grown up with one Christian parent and one Jewish parent and the climate growing up seemed to have been to let her decide for herself (without "forcing" either tradition on her).

I'm quite sure that far more harm has been done to people's faith and willingness to accept a connection with God, Jesus and a faith community by Christians (especially pastors) who guilt tripped them about their faith or lack of. So I tread lightly on the topic of faith as I worked with the couple on premarital counseling. My usual line has to do with, "Look, I'm not going to tell you what to believe. But this will become a bigger deal than it seems now. Especially if you have kids, you won't as much have the opportunity to 'live and let live.' I know people who have presented various backgrounds to their kids..."

Here, the bride stopped me. Gently, she explained that she felt she hadn't grown up with any real religious training. "Choosing for herself" had been challenging because she hadn't had a context from which to see what was out there. She said she planned to raise and children they might have as a Christian. Certainly, for them to decide for themselves as they grew. But at least with a solid compass.

I was humbled. She spoke words I wish I'd had the courage to offer, but they were surely more powerful coming from her.

Over the years, I've met many many more couples facing the bring together of similar backgrounds. In my own extended family there are "mixed marriages." And everyone balances things differently. And with different outcomes, even within the same family.

But there is something very important, I think, about helping our children understand what is important to us, and giving them some information and experience to shape their own faith.

Check out this recent article ("I Take My Children to Church Even Though I Have My Doubts," by Sarah Stewart Holland from the Huffington Post about a woman who walked away from the church but came back when her son was born. Her experience resonates for me of many new parents I have met at church over the years. Many of them have re-discovered their own faith even though they returned for their kids. But some didn't. Everyone is different--and everyone's story is complex.

I want my daughters to be followers of Jesus Christ. I want them to having a powerful, deep connection with God and know God's love in Jesus. I understand that my life, my relationship with them, and how I help shepherd their involvement in church will have an immense impact on this. And I also know in the end, they will have to make their own decisions about what faith and how faith will (or won't) shape their lives and understanding of themselves and the world.

Every day I glimpse moments of my daughters touching something that for me connects so powerfully to the presence of God in the world. I think often about how their Biblical namesakes might offer some inspiration for their faith (Anna -- that she might see what God is doing and tell others, and Mary -- who said YES to God). Most of all, I give thanks for the journey of faith I have walked supported by so many, and I hope my daughters will someday reflect on their journeys of faith in a similar way.

Month 2 Thoughts (and Questions)

This past spring I got the call. THE call. The call I was sure would come weeks earlier than it did. But finally it came. On the one night my husband was out of town all spring and I was alone with the girls. I’d just walked in the door and my house phone rang. It was my district superintendent. Anna, somehow magically figuring out that this was an important call, started running around the house being loud. Mary hadn’t yet developed the ability to be raucous at the worst moments, so she just hung out there in my arms. I was so distracted that I hardly asked any questions. After all, as it turned out, the appointment I was being given by the bishop and cabinet was the one Chris and I had, by powers of deduction, guessed it would be.

I still had to call the DS the next day though and ask all the questions my mom-brain had chased from my mind during the first call.

What follows for a pastor after they get THE call probably differs somewhat in each conference, but in ours (the Baltimore-Washington Conference) it soon leads to a meeting with your new Staff Parish Relations Committee (SPRC) and your outgoing SPRC. Though I’ve never been part of an arranged marriage (though one always wonders if Andy Thornton was up to something when he asked me to help interview candidates for the vacant Manidokan director’s position) I imagine it feels somewhat similar. I am not by nature a terribly nervous person. But my husband told me he’d rarely seen me as nervous as I was when meeting with the Arden UMC SPRC. I’m just glad it wasn’t recorded and I never have to watch it. It was, however, clear to both Chris and I that this was a God-thing, and that it would be a good fit for me professionally, and our family personally.

The months that followed consisted of tying up things at the congregation I was leaving (Calvary UMC) and preparing for my arrival at Arden – meeting with the outgoing pastor (who I’d entered the ministry with and knew fairly well), attending conference transition events, and thinking through how I wanted to start.

The “natural” flow of the transition was horribly interrupted by my brother’s suicide, but it seemed important to me to move forward, to do, as I told people, what he was unable to do in that last tragic moment. So the day after his funeral (also the day before I would officially begin as the pastor at Arden) I moved into my new office.

There are many tasks which I have attended to since beginning at Arden, much prayer and discernment, and a lot of hustling and trying to get up to speed. But also a lot of enjoying my off time with the girls and Chris—and while we love the summer camp season, I must admit I’m looking forward to even more family time as camp winds down.

One of the very first things, though, which started rolling around in my thoughts was the reflection I’d heard from many that Arden was a small church. Now, my previous congregation (where I served as associate pastor) was definitely one of the largest in the conference. Arden worships 130 on an average Sunday, in two (albeit currently a very small early one) services. I’ve also served a church that worshipped about 70—and knew even then that many churches were smaller.

So, I started suggesting to people at Arden that really, we weren’t actually a small church (small is always relative in such a sense). I said we were larger than “most” UM churches, at least in our conference. I was aware, though, that I was just guessing—so I got in touch with the conference office to try to figure out the numbers. You know, I thought it would be nice to actually know what I was talking about. :-) Jo Chesson was able to pull average worship attendance* numbers for me and you know what I found? 

Arden is larger than AT LEAST 68% of the churches in this conference. Really. I know. Even I was surprised. Check out the chart below. As you see, the group we are in includes 100-150. So a number of the churches we are counted WITH are actually SMALLER than Arden UMC.

And on top of that? We are growing. And growing. We are growing in people of all ages, but we are growing specifically in the most sought-after church demographic: families with young children.

In the coming months and year we will continue to be in dialogue about where we have been, what God has been up to here, and where God is calling us. We will be celebrating the vibrant ministry happening here, and seeking to build upon our rich foundation. I am so very excited to get to be part of this journey with the Arden UMC congregation.

I wanted to share with you some questions that are rolling around in my mind and prayers so that you can also reflect and pray upon these. There will be opportunities for dialogue on these (formal or not, if they’re topics God wants us to reflect on, I am sure they will rise up before us). If you already have thoughts on these, please pop into the office, give me a call, or catch me on a Sunday. If you haven’t thought on these before, perhaps take some time at least each week to do so. And most of all, as you lift up your congregation and pastor in prayer, please lift up each of these that we might all receive God’s vision and discernment.

1. What is God’s vision for Arden for 2020?
2.  How large will our worshiping community be in 2016? 2018? 2020?
3. What are the biggest gifts of the congregation which any growth and health will be built upon?
4. What challenges or growing edges will we need to be honest about and prepared for?
5.  Where do the greatest gifts and passions of the congregation meet/intersect with the greatest needs of our community?
6.  Given the legacy of and deep commitment of Arden UMC to strengthening families, what new opportunities can we take advantage of to do this and also reach more people for Jesus?

These are just some of the major questions. Of course there are a host of related practical ones (As we grow, how will we keep apace with parking…congregational care…worship services, etc.?)

It is so very exciting to be part of this key time in the life of Arden UMC. I invite you to continue in prayer for our shared ministry, and to join me as we are about God’s kingdom-building, life-giving, love-overflowing work.

Grace and Peace.

Sarah Schlieckert

*Average worship attendance is generally now believed to be the best metric for the size and health of a congregation because the other statistic that could be used (membership) often reflects administrative issues (like inactive names being left on the rolls after someone is gone), cultural trends (more people who may be active but have a hesitation to "join" any group, and changing attendance patterns (many people considered themselves active at a church when they attend half the time -- this is the new norm in the US).

A Psalm for My 34th Year

In seminary, one of my professors shared that he read the numbered psalm for his year (Psalm 30 his 30th year). I don't do this daily as part of my devotions, but certainly on my birthday. This morning, on my 34th birthday, I reread Psalm 33 and reflected on its message to me for the year that has passed, and then read Psalm 34, which surely has words of hope for the year ahead.

Psalm 34 (NRSV)

1 I will bless the Lord at all times;
    his praise shall continually be in my mouth.
2 My soul makes its boast in the Lord;
    let the humble hear and be glad.
3 O magnify the Lord with me,
    and let us exalt his name together.
4 I sought the Lord, and he answered me,
    and delivered me from all my fears.
5 Look to him, and be radiant;
    so your[a] faces shall never be ashamed.
6 This poor soul cried, and was heard by the Lord,
    and was saved from every trouble.
7 The angel of the Lord encamps
    around those who fear him, and delivers them.
8 O taste and see that the Lord is good;
    happy are those who take refuge in him.
9 O fear the Lord, you his holy ones,
    for those who fear him have no want.
10 The young lions suffer want and hunger,
    but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.
11 Come, O children, listen to me;
    I will teach you the fear of the Lord.
12 Which of you desires life,
    and covets many days to enjoy good?
13 Keep your tongue from evil,
    and your lips from speaking deceit.
14 Depart from evil, and do good;
    seek peace, and pursue it.
15 The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous,
    and his ears are open to their cry.
16 The face of the Lord is against evildoers,
    to cut off the remembrance of them from the earth.
17 When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears,
    and rescues them from all their troubles.
18 The Lord is near to the brokenhearted,
    and saves the crushed in spirit.
19 Many are the afflictions of the righteous,
    but the Lord rescues them from them all.
20 He keeps all their bones;
    not one of them will be broken.
21 Evil brings death to the wicked,
    and those who hate the righteous will be condemned.
22 The Lord redeems the life of his servants;
    none of those who take refuge in him will be condemned.

Rev. Daniel Brooks Andrews

One of the things that was always the most important to Dan was that people be real, be authentic. To not be or pretend they’re someone they’re not. I have really struggled to attempt to capture Dan’s life in even a small way for you today. The truth is, our authentic selves are fully of complexities which even we do not at times fully see. I am confident I cannot fully capture our shared experiences of Dan—the blessing he was to us all—and I am even more sure I cannot capture in these few words the child of God that Dan was.

Foremost in Dan’s understanding of himself, though, I think was that he was a child of God. His journey through his teen and adult years led him through many experiences and along many paths. But his journey was one of becoming and living into who he truly was: a beloved child of God. I believe he was powerfully aware of this even as he struggled to figure out how to fully live into this throughout his life.

Daniel Brooks Andrews was born in Siler City, NC on January 16, 1983. The second child and first son of Rev. Richard Andrews and his wife Patricia (Brooks) Andrews, Daniel came into the world to my vocal encouragement, as legend has it I cheered him along with cries of “Hurry up, baby, hurry up!”

Dan grew up learning to love toy trains, the outdoors and being a brother, son and friend.

Dan was a great brother. While he once threw a fire truck at my head (I think he was three), he also once had to be held back (a year or so later) from beating up the doctor who was removing a splinter from my foot and—Dan was convinced—hurting his big sister. He also had the magic touch when Liz was a baby—he could often be found sucking his thumb, rubbing her hand, putting Liz to sleep on car rides. Dan loved family—whether it was hanging out with his sisters and brothers, spending time with his parents, or enjoying his large extended family. Dan was always about relationships.

As PKs, Dan, Liz, Jordan and I were always close as we moved from place to place. We always had built-in friends. And we were a travelling Sunday School.

Dan was active on neighborhood and school baseball and lacrosse teams, and also enjoyed club team sports in college and seminary.

Dan treasured his friends from school—from Marie Farring Elementary, FSK Middle, Poly, Frostburg and Drew. Dan always seemed to make friends easily wherever he went. Good friends. Friends to get in trouble with. Friends to work through life with. Friends to support him, and friends for him to support. I want you to know that he loved you all. Through the highs and the lows, your friendship to him were some the great treasures of his life.

Dan had many adventures. From experiencing city life in Baltimore to hopping trains in Western Maryland, Dan loved experiencing new things—especially doing so with good friends and family. Dan was part of various cultural movements and his physical appearance evolved other time as well. Most recently you knew Dan with gauges in his ears, but in high school he had green hair and eyebrow rings—that is, of course, until it came time for senior portraits. Our parents generally let Dan be Dan, but for senior photos, Mom laid before him a clear choice: either the green hair or eyebrow rings had to go. You can see Dan’s senior portrait—buzz cut and eyebrow rings and all, in the photo display in the Parish hall.

Dan loved Baltimore, and he was an aficionado of Baltimore culture. Though, perhaps not always its most skilled representative. Once as a teenager, when our cousins Jym and Tim were visiting us while we lived in south Baltimore, the three guys went down to go crabbing off of one of the local bridges. Hours later, the conquering heroes returned home with an impressive haul of crabs. They were so proud of their catch. Later the truth was revealed—they had bought most of the crabs off a much more experienced crabber.

Later Dan would say that his teenager and early college years were also years he ran from a call to ministry. I remember when Dan got connected with a men’s Bible Study at Frostburg and started to come back to the faith. Though our family had prayed he would, it perhaps shocked us more than anyone. Dan considered whether he would get baptized as an adult—you see he and I were baptized on the same day at Chevy Chase UMC. In true Wesleyan fashion, Dan decided on his own he would not. His baptism had stuck. God had never left him.

The year after Dan graduated from college and before he began at Drew Theological School, he lived with me in my parsonage and served as my assistant pastor on my first two point charge. It was an interesting year, and after seven years of not living together (as we both were off at college), we got to know each other again well and wrestle with the joy and challenges of being siblings. The four of us—we always tried to stick together. Through moves, challenges and pain in our family and our father struggles with his own mental illness, and growing up—our relationships were always evolving but always very important to us.

Dan found great connection with the prodigal son in Jesus’ parable. In many ways it defined his understanding of his call and ministry. Dan had felt far off, away from Church, from the community of disciples, but it was from this experience that he had a deep passion for reaching out to others who also felt far off from God—whether by circumstances or their own decisions or both. Dan had little patience for people who put policies or traditions above God’s love for all people. This was one of the ways God’s image was powerfully imprinted on Dan.

Dan served several churches during his ministry: Doubs/Epworth UMC, Catoctin UMC, Cowenton UMC and Chesaco UMC. What he loved most about being a pastor was getting to know people. Being present with them, and learning their stories. And helping them discover God’s deep and abiding love for then, no matter what—a love which was always so important to Dan. And which still is.

Once (and I suspect things like this happened more than once), Dan came across a group of young adults outside a store who were hitchhiking across the country together. He greeted them, talked to them, and bought them a meal. And then they went on their way.

Most recently, Dan also enjoyed checking out Ironbirds baseball games, helping the ladies at Cowenton make their famous apple dumplings, and taking part in many church breakfasts and meals.

Dan also loved being an uncle to my and Chris’ daughter Anna and Mary. He loved making them laugh, smile and dance. He doted on them and they returned his love with adoration. Even with the girls, Dan wanted them to know God’s love. Dan bought Anna her first pink Bible—a Bible whose stories he began to help her memorize.

Through all of this, Dan was a fighter. You see, for all his joy and smiles—and these were him, they were authentic—things were often harder for Dan. Pains seemed to strike him deeper and losses weighed heavy. Dan fought though. He fought to hold onto his identity as a child of God and to live out the love and grace he had received. Because Dan experienced this fight, I think it made him incredibly compassionate to those who also struggled—and he was always looking for people that others looked past, or people who thought the Church, or even God, had given up on.

My mother and the rest of our family have received such wonderful remembrances of Dan already from many of you and others who aren’t able to be with us here today. Many also struggle to reconcile Dan’s final moments with the Dan they knew the rest of the time. I believe if Dan were here, he would tell us that his final choice was his most tragic one. For all that was weighing on him, it is difficult for us to not let Dan’s final moments to be his defining moments for us.

But Dan’s life was never and will never be defined by his deepest pains or sorest losses. He was first and foremost a child of God. He was also a son, a brother, a grandson, nephew, cousin, pastor, friend, camp counselor, colleague, and so much more. Dan’s life was about creating deep and lasting relationships, encouraging people to be the people God created them to be, and helping others receive and celebrate the love of God and blessings of life. His legacy lives on in the lives of each person he touched, and we hope, in work ahead for our family and perhaps for you as we try to help others who similarly struggle. We are none of us alone today, or indeed any day. Just as I am sure Dan is not alone either.

The best of all is God is with us.

Week 2

Week 2.

In anticipation of Week 1, Day 1, Sunday 1, this is when the reality of a new appointment really begins to settle in. Not just a guest preacher, the new pastor now has to figure out her or his place. Whatever bumps (or collisions) the first week and first Sunday brought, now it when the new pastor begins to settle in for the long haul. The new pastor finally has a history (albeit woefully short) with their new congregation. Now there’s a “last Sunday” and a “last week” to reference.

I am by nature a planner. I am absolutely convinced the world works better when someone (and yes, I’m willing to be that person) has a plan. The thing with plans, of course is they change. Sometimes in small ways. Sometimes in ways so radical it becomes questionable whether the “plan” ever really existed to begin with.

My last Sunday at Calvary UMC was June 8. I had three weeks between then and starting at Arden UMC. As mostly planned, I spent that first week caring for family and personal details—at least some of them. The following two weeks were to be occupied with coming up with a plan for my new appointment. Creating to do lists. Coming up with a plan.

But that never happened. Sunday, June 15 – Fathers Day—we received the unthinkable news that my brother Dan had committed suicide. Dan was also to have been beginning a new appointment this summer. I had anticipated touching base with each other on our first Sunday and comparing notes. I didn’t get to do that yesterday, though.

Someday, and I suspect not too far from now, I will have words to speak more about this loss for me and our family. Right now those words are hard coming. I had decided I would offer the witness (some call it a eulogy) at Dan’s funeral on the Sunday before I started my new appointment. But I had no words. I couldn’t write anything till the morning of the service. And once written, those words were all I had. Perhaps I’ll at least post that here soon.

All that to say, here I am at week 2 still living into things, and yes, even flying by the seat of my pants a bit. As Bill O’Reilly was teased when taped during a difficult rehearsal, “We’ll do it live!”

Week 2. Doing it live. There will be a plan soon enough. And as soon as there is one, it will change. But I give thanks that our God is a God of plans. Of scripts. And of going off-script. And yes, even of chaos.

And so it is…

Week 2.

Pastoral Transitions

Several months ago I shared with my Calvary UMC family that I would be leaving and beginning a new season as pastor of Arden UMC in Martinsburg. The time of final transition is upon us as I have my last Sunday at Calvary this Sunday and am finishing my final day in the office today.

It has been a blessed season, these five years at Calvary. I have experienced many personal and professional highs during this time, as well as some challenges.

One of the most important things on my to-do list now is to make this transition well and to help the congregation of Calvary UMC do the same. To this end, while I have been engaged in many prepartions for my arrival at Arden, I have also been working to help in the transition here at Calvary as Rev. Matt Trussell begins his tenure as Calvary’s Associate Pastor. I have met with Matt, and have also been meeting with other staff and ministry leaders to pass files, information and materials in an attempt to provide for as smooth of a transition as possible. I have also been in regular conversation with Rev. Alice Ford about this transition—indeed, our conversations began before I had even received a new appointment, when I was merely anticipating one.

I remain the appointed associate pastor at Calvary until June 30, 2014, but my active time with the Calvary congregation ends June 8, 2014. A time of transition is suggested by the conference for the congregation to have time to step away from one pastor and prepare to welcome a new one. These three weeks will hopefully allow all of us a time to prepare for the new seasons God is calling us to.

I need to share with you the conference’s official statement of transitions, and the policy I affirm and covenant to keep with my colleagues in the Order of Elders in the Baltimore-Washington Conference. This policy essentially outlines that effective July 1, I will cease any and all pastoral relationships with members of the Calvary UMC family. While the policy says that the current pastor may at their initiative invite the previous pastor to return (and Rev. Ford has been and I know will remain gracious and open through this transition), I want to let you know myself, that it is my intention to decline any inivations even should they be extended by the new pastoral team. As much as the Calvary UMC family needs to create new and lasting bonds with Rev. Matt Trussell, I need to create and nurture my new relationships at Arden UMC. I will need to use all my time and energies to do so.

Here is the official Conference policy:

As of the effective date of a new appointment, a pastor shall immediately cease all pastoral counseling and pastoral visitation with members or member families in the previous appointment. Since appointments are generally announced several weeks in advance, each pastor has adequate time in which to affect closure and make appropriate referral to another for the pastoral care of members.
 Pastors shall have a clear understanding with former congregations that they will not return to officiate at baptisms, weddings, and funerals, or to do pastoral counseling or pastoral visitation in that parish. Pastors, active or retired, shall respectfully decline to participate in such duties when invited by members of a former congregation. Declining all such invitations is the responsibilities of the previous pastor. The present pastor, at his or her discretion, may invite the previous pastor to return for pastoral functions. However, the present pastor should never be under any pressure to invite the previous pastor.

Many of you are connected to me via social media and it is a gift that modern tools like this exist! I will not change or remove any of those connections. But I do want you to know what as I begin my ministry at Arden, I will be posting regularly and energetically about my ministry there. I will be using that tool in the same way I have used it at Calvary. If you feel it will be difficult to see me do so, please know I will understand if you feel more comfortable unfriending me. It will also be my intention to not initiate contact with Calvary UMC people once my time at Calvary is completed.

Having grown up as a United Methodist clergy child, these transitions come a bit more naturally to me than to many, and for me they remain an important part of the covenant I have taken as a United Methodist pastor. The transitions are difficult for families as well, though Chris and I have shared in much conversation around our transition and that of our girls. While it is difficult to say goodbye to all of the wonderful people we have known at Calvary, we look forward to new relationships at Arden and also eagerly anticipate the new bonds which will be formed between the Calvary UMC family and the Trussell family. We know you will bless them as much as you have blessed us by your friendship, support and encouragement!

Please do not hesitate to let me or Rev. Alice Ford know if you have any questions about this transition.

Grace and Peace.

Rev. Sarah Andrews Schlieckert