Retired but not Retiring

I sit in a quiet study. It is Saturday morning, early, and it’s supposed to be quiet. All my books are packed in boxes and have been distributed. I will soon puts some more thought into my final sermon as the pastor of the Minden Presbyterian Church and, perhaps, my final sermon ever given. Tomorrow doesn’t concern me nearly as much as a week from tomorrow.

Tomorrow there will be met with requisite tears and well worn comments like; “You’ll find in retirement that you are busier than ever.” Another will say, and have already said, “Whatever you do have a goal for that day – find something to do – don’t just sit down and wait to die.”  There is a concept in the economics of prospective gain and prospective loss. This relates to areas like consumer confidence and businesses starting new product lines. It also has a more general application. If you think the future holds prospects for gain you will act in one way, if you project the likelihood of loss, then you act in quite another way.

The most difficult question I get is, “What are your plans for the next step in your ministry?” I give a gallows smile and say, (with a wink) “I have several offers to choose from and will simply select the one I believe best pleases our Lord.” If they press me for details, I readily admit I have no offers and no prospects. (I am a man whose ordaining denomination has deemed him a threat to their congregations. They are right; there is nothing more dangerous than a truth teller in a room of liars.) Then, to make them feel less awkward I say, “But I am sure some opportunity will present itself.” Then I say what I would like to believe. “I know that God is not finished with my ministry and will find some place for me to be useful in his vast Kingdom.” After all, if the laborers are few and work is great, God can’t afford to turn away any willing worker. <grin>

When I was first saved and while praying for a job the telephone rang. It was my Uncle Bob, the prince of part time work. He never has just one job but he held as many as four at a time. One of his part time jobs was a clerk at a liquor store. He said, “There’s an opening for a clerk job and I could recommend you for the position if you want.” The working hours were on evenings and Saturday’s. The pay was okay. I grew up in the retail business. I knew how to stock shelves, place orders, check orders, and, naturally, wait on customers. The product was the problem. I would be selling “demon rum” – so to speak. I took the job and called my pastor. I said, “God has provided me with a job.” He said, “Praise God, I knew he would answer our prayers.” When I told him what the job was he said something like, “Do you feel at peace with your decision?”

I honestly felt grateful for the work God had provided me. After I had finished my routine tasks I would sit behind the counter waiting for the next customer. I brought reading material. It might have been a book by Keith Miller or Bruce Larson. Most often I would read my Bible. When a customer saw what I was reading they wondered out loud, or through puzzled look on their faces, why I would read the Bible in a liquor store, I was faced with the question, “Why would a Christian work here?”

In my level of Christian maturity my reasoning was simple. “I needed a job. I ask God to provide one and this is what God provided.” At that point in my Christian life, I practiced total abstinence from any form of intoxicant. Those were all a part of the life God has saved me from. Yet I was closer to the world than I was to the Kingdom. I knew what it was like to turn to intoxicants to find peace of mind. I knew that such substances provided a numbing of the pain that felt like peace. I knew that only God could set the captive soul free and give a kind of peace that passes all understanding. I felt as close to the patrons of that liquor store than I did to those who sat around me on Sunday worship. Just like in Church, there were those who were being saved and those who would remain forever away from the heart of God. The liquor store job ended when God provided me with an opportunity to drive a school bus.

I agree with John Wesley when he said, “I look on all the world as my parish; thus far I mean, that, in whatever part of it I am, I judge it meet, right, and my bounden duty, to declare unto all that are willing to hear, the glad tidings of salvation.”

This might be the beginning of rethinking the possible context of my post-retirement ministry.