The Pilgrim

Almost five years ago I moved back home for the summer. Home to mum and dad’s, home to Katikati, and home to St Paul’s. I’d finished my study, I was just shy of twenty one, and I sure as heck didn’t know what I was going to do with my life.

I spent the summer house sitting and serving coffee at a local café. By February I’d scored a job at the Katikati Community Centre. In the mornings I sat at the reception answering phones and practicing my happy face. In the afternoons I supervised kids after school, feeding them, and perfecting my angry face.

With a full time job, and finally some income, I moved into this place on Polley Cresent and purchased a piece of junk car (which has served me faithfully since). I didn’t know it at the time, but I was learning to make myself at home again. I was learning to live with these people in this place again. I was learning to love these people and this place again.

That same year I reduced my hours at the Community Centre and took on a job at St Paul’s as a Children and Families Pastor. The people of St Paul’s had nurtured my faith since I was a wee tot, and now they were entrusting me to do the same with the youngest members of the congregation.

It has been a privilege and an honour to journey with the people of St Paul’s and the people of Katikati over the last five years, and indeed, the last twenty five years. These people have been fellow pilgrims and I am grateful for the life we have shared together. Now, after all the years, I’ll be walking along this road with different travel companions, with a different community. I’ll see the people of St Paul’s at a distance, I’ll call out, and wave, and blow kisses.

 This is for the people who taught me how to walk, and have walked with me this far:

These restless feet will wander far from here

This humbled heart will ponder and not fear

These earnest eyes are fonder for these years

And when you see me yonder, call me near

Because I know;

I, I am home

I am loved

I belong

You, you are home

You are loved

You belong

We, we are home

We are loved

We belong

These weary feet will stumble and fall

These weathered hands will fumble and brawl

These listless lips will mumble and call

This heavy heart will crumble for all

But still I know;

I, I am home

I am loved

I belong

You, you are home

You are loved

You belong

We, we are home

We are loved

We belong

These homebound feet will follow the One who knows the way

These gentle hands will hold, and hope, and pray

These eager eyes will long to see the day

This hope-filled heart will find a place to stay

Because I know;

I, I am home

I am loved

I belong

You, you are home

You are loved

You belong

We, we are home

We are loved

We belong

Turangawaewae - A Place to Stand

On Saturday I stepped into Dennis’ shoes and danced around a while. He wore my scarf while we sang. This was the first time we’d met. We, along with a couple of hundred others, had gathered in a high school hall in Rotorua for the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church of Aotearoa New Zealand (PCANZ). The General Assembly meets every two years and is attended by both pastors and lay people from throughout the country who meet to discuss and discern the direction of the church.

That morning Mark read to us these words from Colossians 3:12-14:

 So, chosen by God for this new life of love, dress in the wardrobe God picked out for you: compassion, kindness, humility, quiet strength, discipline. Be even-tempered, content with second place, quick to forgive an offense. Forgive as quickly and completely as the Master forgave you. And regardless of what else you put on, wear love. It's your basic, all-purpose garment. Never be without it.

Mark encouraged us to swap a piece of clothing with the person next to us by way of acknowledging and practicing what it means to be clothed with these characteristics, hence the reason why my little feet were sliding around in someone else’s shoes.

The thing with General Assembly is that there are certain discussions that keep reoccurring. The sexuality in leadership debate is one of them. The PCANZ have been talking about this for longer than I have been alive, and I suspect the discussion will continue until I too am old and grey.

As I wore Dennis’ shoes I found myself wondering what it would mean for me to stand in the shoes of those on either side of this debate, to consider things from their point of view, to see things from their perspective. I was attending General Assembly as an observer, which meant I didn’t have any speaking or voting rights. Neither did Dennis, he was there as a chaplain. As an observer I had the opportunity to, well, observe. This enabled me to wander about in someone else’s shoes, and to wonder.

I wondered what it was like for those who had been my age when this debate first began to gain traction. I wondered what it was like to be a part of a minority who advocate for change. I wondered what it was like for those who took this personally. I wondered if it was possible not to take this personally. I wondered what it was like to take a strong stand. I wondered if anyone else wondered what it was like for anyone else. I wondered what Jesus was saying.

I wonder if you wonder where I stand. I wonder if you expect me to tell you where I expect you to stand. Instead, I stand here and I wonder…

If we are going to make a stand, may we stand firm in the faith, may we stand in solidarity and not in opposition, and may we remember that Christ stands in our place with his feet in our shoes.