"Unless a grain of wheat dies, it remains just a grain of wheat." John 12:24

I have never liked this particular verse from Holy Scripture. Being willing to give up control and the thought of dying is foreign for most of us. Filled with a strong desire to be in-charge and bring order to the chaos of life, a pastor wants desperately to have folks follow, listen, and ask for their wisdom.

Like most, I enjoy when people compliment my sermons, or say how good I am as a leader and how caring I am as their pastor. This particular verse has never been a favorite because on face value I never saw anything about this phrase that seemed to build up, or call one to be a great disciple winning over the masses, and it did not resonate as a word of encouragement for the difficult journey of faith. It sounds more like giving up.

Yet, after eighteen years as a bi-vocational pastor of a small rural congregation, this verse states exactly what I was 'called' to do and what I chose to do. I chose to die. I chose to give it up. I chose to die to my identity as pastor and shepherd and professional carer and chief holy man. I chose to let it all go.

For a Baptist minister that is saying something! Unfortunately, too often Baptists don't make that choice, it is made for us. And even when we do make the decision to leave following a long pastorate, it is because we 'feel called' to some new pulpit; something bigger and better, of course.

Now don't get me wrong. While I chose to die to role and function at a particular church, I did not do this for totally altruistic reasons. I now have three beautiful grandchildren I would like to visit more often. My energy level is not what it used to be. My 'full-time' position is taking more and more of my time. So I had some personal reasons.

But there were other factors in the mix of my decision.

I chose to die. And that was hard. It proved to be very, very difficult!

Some of the reasons contributing to my decision I did not anticipate two years ago. These were new and deeper convictions than I had experienced in all my days of ministry. Thoughts and reflections on my own journey of faith that caused me to weigh what was right and true and honest at levels I have not been aware of before.

I would like to reflect on some of those factors as well.

When I accepted the call in 1991 to serve as minister of Union Baptist Church in West Point, Georgia, I had no idea my ministry would extend to 2009. The opportunity to heal following a bitter separation from my previous church was much needed. My wife and I and our two children had all been wounded. I was not sure I wanted to be a part of church leadership professionally ever again. And I had not served as solo pastor in years.

But weeks turned into months and months into years. And our small rural congregation became family. They took us into their homes, into their lives and their hearts. They surrounded us with love and provided nurture and care for our weary souls. That all began 18 years ago. So why would I choose to leave?

A thoughtful pastor friend shared many years ago, "It is extremely important for one to know what time it is in one's life." Having walked through many births and deaths and marriages and graduations in our small community of faith, I felt very rooted. This was home.

However, I had a growing concern that we were all in a rut. Through the years we had scaled many heights and had accomplished many different ministries together. But we were still basically the same folks, doing the same things, without a great deal of change personally for any of us. And simultaneously I began to question what time it was in my own life.

Approximately two years ago I began the spiritual discipline of regular times for contemplation. I read Nouwen, Merton and Richard Rohr and other disciples of quiet times of reflection. I read scripture and listened more frequently to my inner voice. I talked with friends and they shared how they had witnessed a change in my journey. The Word began to fill me with new and different spaces, insights, and urges.

That is when I read this verse: "unless a grain of wheat die..."

What would it mean for me to die to old ways of thinking and my standard way of ministry? What would this mean in my current context? What kind of sacrifice and cost might be involved? What would I need to give up to follow the voice of the Holy as I understood this mystery? What would this mean for me personally and professionally? Where would I move? No new offers were on the horizon. No one was asking me to take on any new assignment. It all felt like loss...

And ultimately it did mean loss.

It became increasingly clear I needed to be open to leaving. For the sake of 'what was best' for our small community of faith, I would need to close this chapter of my ministry.

Richard Rohr writes in his book, 'Everything Belongs':

But as the decision was made and lived out I continued my contemplation and quiet time of reflection. A calming Spirit moved into the picture and I became very aware that this choice to die was part of a larger pattern of God's movement in my life. I will admit I still had difficult moments. When I drove by the church, or someone called to check on me or my family, or when I heard that a beloved parishioner was ill. But I slowly realized they were in good hands and so am I. God's hands, and God provides.

One new lesson I learned through this leg of my pilgrimage: 'honesty' will set you free! Honesty with oneself about where you are on your journey. Honesty about the bigger picture of God's movement in a given situation and in one's own life. Honesty about one's need for renewal and Sabbath. Honesty about where and how and when we are truly fed on our walk of faith. I highly recommend the spiritual discipline of contemplation!

Because my next birthday will move me even closer to 'retirement' status in the eyes of our American culture, I push back from that identity. I have had many (particularly the young) who look at me and question, "How are you enjoying your retirement?" No one is being callous or demeaning. They all care for me and wish me well.

However, I don't believe one ever retires from being a minister; layperson or professional clergy alike. We are all called to stay on alert and to risk and have faith. We are all gifted with opportunities every day to bear witness to God's love. If we have eyes to see and ears to hear and hearts to respond. We may resign and move around from one outpost to another. But retirement is not part of the plan!