Lazarus and the Great Thaw

There's been this nagging whisper in the back of my mind ... you have nothing to say. Well, actually, that's just one variation on a theme that's been running through my mind since the end of March. You have nothing to say. Nobody wants to hear what you have to say. How in this world will what you have to say make a difference in this world?! Seems on the surface a crisis of confidence or of identity. Maybe so.
At the end of March, I committed to a change in vocational responsibilities that I knew would change my life. And, boy was I right. I am still a pastor, but without a congregation in the truest sense of the word. Everything about communal life that one experiences as a part of a congregation - even as its shepherd - is different. (The biggest change and hardest has been the absence of children in my life, especially celebrating and assisting Truth unfolding in and for little ones and those willing to be children of the King.) And, since the end of March, I've found myself spinning more plates (reference: that recurring act on Ed Sullivan who never could make it all the way through his stint without a broken plate) than I ever dreamed existed in the Church ... and I've had a few things to say about "juggling" before.
The passion for most of my vocational responsibilities has been in desperate need of a good thaw. The picture of the nandinas in my old front yard, frozen solid by the ice that came late in the winter would be a perfect visual of how my heart has felt about this appointed work before me ... until this morning.
With several new responsibilities in front of me tomorrow (officiating an annual Charge Conference for the first time, preaching in front of a cluster of churches in my District for the first time as their Superintendent to name two), I settled into a wrought-iron chair on my patio in the delightful coolness of morning that we've been dreaming of, waiting for through many long hot months. As I began to let the Word I'd chosen for tomorrow wash over me, bubble inside me, I found something else happening ...
That great thaw. In the space of three hours so much has happened: I've watched my little Izzy "squirrel hunt" the whole back yard, I've been covered by Grace (taking her morning nap on my feet) like an indescribable grace-blanket of love and belonging, I've been serenaded by those chattering squirrels that Izzy stirred up and the songs of invisible birds ... and giggly little girls from the yard next door. And, I've been warmed by a stirring in my heart and mind that I haven't felt in a long, long time. Like waiting for the thaw that turns winter to spring, there is a new joy and a new anticipation in me for sharing with God's people like I haven't in a long time.
This is not the first time since March that I've sat with the Truth and been moved. But, today is different. Somehow, Lazarus and that rich guy in that made-up story Jesus told have given me what I've needed since March. Thanks guys!
p.s. I'll keep you "posted" on what happens tomorrow!