“Let not those who hope in you be put to shame through me, Lord God of hosts; let not those who seek you be disgraced because of me, O God of Israel.”

Being a priest isn’t hard. Being a good priest, is. Showing up on Sundays, Wednesdays, and for a few services a week—easy. Checking in on folks who actually reach out and let me know something is wrong—easy. Caring for my staff, my congregation—it comes with challenges, but still…not hard. The hard part about being a priest?

Living into it.

In our daily lives, whether we like it or not, we are watched, weighed, and measured. Every word, every sermon, is a possible pitfall for someone listening. While intent is one thing, we cannot be responsible for the perception of others. Yet we try. Some sermons will strike at the heart of those in the pews and online; others will anger them and alienate. It’s never intentional, yet it happens. The best we can do is to work through those moments in conversation and community. However… When a preacher writes something or says something publicly that is directed toward a specific agenda, that is where the wheels tend to not only fall off; they disappear. Plenty of priests and pastors across the world use the pulpit to further or support an agenda of their own, not of God. Sure, they (we) sometimes don’t recognize it, but most of the time, it’s intentional.

My hope is and has always been to preach the Gospel as it is presented to me. Never once have I stood up on a Sunday with the intent of alienating anyone in the congregation. Yet, again, it happens. Psalm 69 addresses this directly. That feeling in the pit of my stomach when someone reaches out and has harsh words; that heartbreak when someone leaves the church due to something I’ve said or done. I pray all the time to be better, to be a true servant. Most of the time, I’d like to think I do a pretty decent job of it. But sometimes? Sometimes I want to simply take off my collar and pick up a shovel. Digging holes for a living doesn’t sound fun, but it sure as hell beats getting judged every single day.

Then I remember. I remember that I am called to this life, that I am a good person with good intentions and great love for my people. I will make mistakes. I will say something that inevitably irks you. I will make decisions that are different than what you would have made. But in all these years, I have never given advice or teaching antithetical to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Ever. I have my share of regrets in the way I have handled situations and conversations. But I hold no regrets in the way I love. This psalm today reminds me of that. My fervent and ongoing prayer to seek God’s glory and not my own; to constantly remind others through my own vulnerability that God meets us where we are with a ready embrace. Sometimes I get off topic; sometimes I don’t plan as well as I could have; sometimes I miss it when people are in need.  

It isn’t okay. And I will endeavor to do better. I hope you will, too. I hope you can see me as someone who loves you, regardless of your opinions. You may not always like me, but know that I always love you. I really do believe in the beloved community. It’s been my life’s work so far. Resurrection is the place I have worked to make better and more accommodating to every person who enters her doors. So my prayer, and my work, continue. I am not perfect. But I am yours.

And I will continue to strive to be a man worth listening to, with a message from God and not from my own desires.

Faithfully,

Fr. Sean+