Had to do some extraordinarily difficult things at work today. The tasks themselves are simple, but their meaning and impact are gut-wrenching. Our pulpit committee has decided not to further consider our interim pastor as a candidate for the permanent position. For a church that has been through great loss, this is another that will be deeply felt. Dave and his family have been steadfast but clearly hurting in the face of the news. I've switched into crisis management mode, trying to steer the ship through the storm yet again, looking for hazards farther out than others can see. It is an easier place for me to be.
Doing my best to pass no judgement on the decision itself. It is not my charge to determine who is called to be our pastor at this point; it is the Pulpit Committee's, and I must trust God's sovereignty in their composition and process. He is in this. We have been a church on the edge of oblivion for more than a year, and perhaps that is just where He wants us, for our sanctification and His glory. We have no hope of survival as an "institution," only as His Body and Bride. It is something for which to be grateful.
That's just one thing. These are just the few words I could find. There are others, many others. Again and again I do what I think I must, what I think I can, to try to avoid catastrophe and dodge the bullets, for myself and for others in my life. Again and again, we fall anyway, we take the hit. Sometimes I wish I could not see. A part of me refuses to hope, railing against the futility and failure, and the damned repetition of it all.
Tonight my tea is wild raspberry.
I just don't know.