At the end of something, we continue to tell stories. We like to tell stories. I appreciate hearing and reading through your emails and cards the memories that stand out for you in these last 14 years that I have been your pastor. Precious memories. Recalling these memories can leave us feeling grateful, yet sad as well.

There is one memory that stands out for me, kind of quirky (I bet no one wrote about or would mention this one!). It was a moment in a council meeting some years ago. And it is a funny memory, for me anyway. And maybe it sticks because council meetings generally tend to be heavy, especially when it comes to looking at the numbers. We tend to get anxious when the numbers are printed in red font, or have a minus sign in front of them.

So, this shout out for humour goes to Brian Wirth, who when he was on council some years ago decided to examine the cost effectiveness of the electric heaters in the sanctuary. I can’t remember the exact details. But I hope you get the gist.

He presented his findings in graph form. A graph has two axes, horizontal and vertical. If I recall correctly, the horizontal axis showed change over time. And the vertical showed the output either in electrical energy or monetary cost. You can imagine, then, a graph joins points on a curve going up and/or down, over time.

In this council meeting we were around long, narrow cafeteria style tables, sitting across from each other. As Brian explained his findings, he had the graph lying on the table facing him. The person sitting directly across from him was also looking down at the graph. They apparently listened to Brian’s report and then concluded, pointing at the graph:

“That’s a pretty high cost for running those heaters for just a couple of times a week.” Grunts of approval could be heard down the line.

Without missing a beat, Brian flipped his chart around, so it now faced the person across from him right side up. “There, is that better?” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

The person’s initial conclusion was based on their perspective, seeing the graph’s line upside down. From their perspective the graph line was arching high along the graph’s horizontal axis. Turned around, the line then skirted at the bottom of the scale, indicating a totally different story. “There, is that better?”

I laughed. Maybe another reason that memory sticks in my mind is because it illustrates how quickly the mood can shift depending on the stories we tell and how we tell them. And how easy it is to talk ourselves down, into a negative mental space where we don’t consider other facts, other legitimate ways of looking at the same problem.

We can tell ourselves, like the ancient Israelites did, that “everything the Lord has spoken we will do” (Exodus 19:8). We can tell ourselves that the “labourers are [always] too few” as the harvest always remains plentiful (Matthew 9:37). We can lock ourselves into beliefs that keep us behaving in ways that reflect only part of the story, the truth.

Because the biblical record shows that the Israelites did not always do everything the Lord commanded. That’s the truth. The proof is … well, read on after Exodus 19 to the end of the bible! The Israelites definitely did not always do what the Lord commanded.

And, yes, the labourers may have been few at times. But the historical record shows the church has existed, even thrived, through thick and thin for over two thousand years. Not many organizations have shown the resilience of the church. There are labourers, always have been, willing to work in Christ’s mission. That’s the truth, too.

The power of the story can impact how we feel and what we do. Many stories we tell ourselves only reinforce a belief that we are unlovable and incapable to do what God wants. “There’s never enough.” “We can’t do this.” “The sin is stronger than the good in us.”

But what is the evidence supporting those beliefs? Is it always true? Can we believe the opposite of such negative conclusions? Can we believe what Saint Paul writes so passionately in his letter to the Romans, that indeed, “God proves God’s love for us” (Romans 5:8) time and time again?

Just because there are times when we fail, it doesn’t mean we can’t succeed at other times. Just because there are times when there aren’t enough volunteers to do a particular job doesn’t mean there aren’t enough volunteers to do another kind of job. We don’t have to lock ourselves into one perspective for all time.

In the Gospel, Jesus links teaching and proclamation of the good news with curing diseases and healing every kind of sickness (Matthew 9:35; 10:1). Healing every kind of sickness is just as valid an expression of the church’s mission as teaching and proclamation. The mission of Christ is not just expressed in one specific form or way for all time. The Christian mission can be faithfully expressed in a variety of legitimate ways to show God’s love in the world.

I know during this time of saying goodbye, much of the discussion is about how Pastor Martin has impacted and influenced the life of Faith Lutheran. But it’s reciprocal. You have taught me some things as well.

I’d like to tell you one thing you have taught me is to use the gifts of analysis, inquiry, and investigation. You’ve taught me to do the research, the homework, seek out the facts, collect the data. You’ve reinforced for me the importance of supporting my opinions with facts. And to do that before coming to any conclusions. In responding to any issue, we do well to consider the evidence, for and against, any assertion we make.

This is also an important step in the healing of the mind, which in psychological problems reflects underlying beliefs or stories that may be partially true but don’t capture the whole picture. There are other facts, maybe even more relevant and just as powerful that have been missed, never before noticed nor considered. It is important first to observe, notice, and pay attention to the facts regarding any situation we face.

I think this gift you gave me inspired me to pursue continuing education in my own professional development that has led us to this day. So, thank you for your gift of valuing education and life-long learning. Thank you for supporting me, for letting me go to pursue continuing education.

Endings are beginnings and beginnings are endings. The moment we are born, we begin to die. That sounds depressing, I know. But it’s true. Our ending starts the moment we take our first breath. The moment we are born — yes our bodies begin to grow and develop. But as soon as our bodies begin to interact with our environment combined with our inherited genes, the seeds are sown that will eventually develop into pathology as well.

The opposite is also true. Each ending marks a new beginning. Something new is born the moment it ends: The story of resurrection after death.

So, I went to the beginning, to my first post in raspberryman.ca – my blog – in May of 2012, the month I started my work with you 14 years ago.

And wouldn’t you know, the title and theme of that first post was: “Have a little faith!” Reflecting on the name of this church – Faith Lutheran – I wrote there about the importance of taking a risk and forging forward in faith.

Something ends today, to be sure. I will no longer be your pastor nor function in the role of your pastor. I will no longer do funerals, make visits, do weddings or baptisms in this faith community and for members of Faith.

But what begins? What endures? In the grief process, we say that though something concrete ends, the relationship has not. Though there is something concrete that changes in the relationship, the relationship itself endures in different ways.

A significant break of time apart is necessary, now. A significant break of time apart is necessary, to help set the stage, and prepare the ground to build trust and integrity in the relationship with your new pastor.

But, they say, good friendships can endure the test of time. Who knows, where and how, far down the line, our paths may cross again?

Have a little faith, dear Faith Lutheran.

Amen.