That is how I’m feeling now. Sunday the 12th was my last day as worship leader at the church and now I join D wandering, waiting, wanting…
Fifteen years I spent as part of the worship ministry, the last nine as their pastor. And now I’m not, that simple, that quick, that… Do you just stop being a pastor?
T and I could no longer serve where men put themselves ahead of Christ and make claims that only Jesus has the right to. Or where servants of God are cast aside over made up errancies.
But I hurt for the church. D and I poured ourselves out for these people as vessels of wine are served to the thirsty. We would spend hours exploring creative ways to deliver hope, grace, forgiveness, and love, something this church needed, badly. Now they will get something different which at this time appears to be dry toast. I hurt for the church.
I enjoyed being poured out, refilled, poured out again. It’s how I connected with my Saviour.
Now I feel like that box of canning jars everyone has in their garage… just a vessel on the shelf.