As pastors, we sometimes find ourselves passing into a previous place of ministry. Perhaps we receive a wedding or graduation invitation from young people whom we dedicated as infants, or a phone call telling us of a tragic death or a first child born against all odds. Our worlds shift from time to time, and often, it comes as a complete surprise.
Much of my sabbatical is planned away from things that will remind me of ministry. I'm trying to rest from its rigors and emotional ups and downs. However, our first international experience of this time away comes in a place where, sixteen years ago, I left behind much of my heart.
In my first two weeks away, I have experienced the silent prayer-soaked environs of a monastery, the quiet horse-drawn-buggy-countryside of an Amish community, the hustling skyscraper-packed streets of Chicago, as well as an inner city neighborhood riddled by high crime and low expectations. But in one twenty-four hour period ending last evening, it seems like I saw all of the world in one mind numbing blur.
We drove out of the hills and forests of home, and flew from the small-town feel of Indianapolis International back into the heart of Chicago's bustle. After a shuttle ride and three hour wait, we flew through the night to Rome. Here we sat in a United Nations like terminal hearing beautiful people speaking in unknown languages; then flying off for destinations as disparate as Oslo and Sri Lanka, Frankfort and Tirana, Split and Athens, St. Petersburg and Paris. Finally, we boarded the flight to Kiev, a place we once called home.
Sometimes we travel great distances to experience cultures, visit famous places or see monuments. But this first journey of my "What would make your heart sing?" sabbatical is not that sort of pilgrimage. While Kiev (Kyiv is the more accurate--Ukrainian name) has much to see and admire, and is the birthplace of "the Rus," these are not the reason for our coming here. The reasons live in flesh, and await on this end with memories, not unlike our own.
In our first hour here, we embraced these treasures. We began what will be a week of enjoying a long-overdue reuniting with people as dear as family. These hearts and lives are as rich and deep as the sea we just flew across. Oh, how long overdue is passage into this place of past ministry?
What about the sadness I hold from our untimely departure more than sixteen years ago, the regrets of what we simply could not accomplish, and the cutting pains of stories of those who have passed-on since our days here? Well, the sweet joys and smiles that welcome us back have already cushioned the blow, and they draw our hearts deeply into the home we all share in Christ.
