That religion class ignited a fire inside of me and it sparked the memory of when I was six years old sitting in the church. After a very long, winding road, I eventually graduated from seminary and received my first call as an associate pastor. However, I was ordained at my home church in Fredericksburg, VA and the person who administered my vows was Rev. Lemming, the same pastor who I had watched as a young boy. It was a very full circle moment in my life.

I came into the pastorate with a very clear objective. I wanted to do things differently than other pastors. I didn’t want to repeat what I had experienced in churches throughout my life. I wanted to preach sermons that really applied to our everyday lives. More importantly, I wanted to preach a gospel that made sense in a 21^st century context. This meant two major changes: 1) not taking the stories of the Bible at face value and 2) revaluating the traditions that are part of the Christian faith by asking, “Where did they come from historically?” and “Do they truly make sense if we choose to believe in a God of unconditional love?”

This fresh, new perspective was enough to catch the eye of the PNC trying to find a new pastor for this congregation back in 2013. Led by Tom Carroll, they were willing to give me a chance and let me take the reins of this absolutely amazing church in Arlington Heights. It was an experiment of sorts: How would this very new and very different theology be embraced by a very old and very traditional Presbyterian church? Well, here we are 10 years later and the verdict is in—everyone loved it! Not one complaint in ten years. Just kidding, some people loved it, some people really didn’t love it.

Over the last several months, I’ve been trying to gage the legacy of the last ten years and I’ve had lots conversations with people in the church, reflecting on my time here. Perhaps one of the kindest comments I received was from a person who has been attending First Pres for decades. They said to me, “You’ve helped First Pres transform from a church into a community.”

When I probed deeper into what they meant, they said that, for a long time, they came to church, but they lacked a sense of belonging and purpose. Their presence on Sunday morning was habitual because it’s what they’d always done. Now, ten years later, they felt as though they belonged to something important. They’ve established meaningful friendships and they fully understand what it means to be a Christian in the world.

If someone could have written down ten years ago what I was trying to achieve, that would be a perfect summary. My goal was to create a deeply connected community of people whose primary mission in life was to live out Jesus’ teachings in the world. However, to achieve this goal, I fundamentally believe we have to be vulnerable with each other. We’ve got to break down the walls that separate us, which means exposing our weaknesses and being honest about our faults and flaws. I believe these two things are intimately connected. You cannot fully live into Jesus’ teachings unless you are willing to be vulnerable.

To explain why, I want to tell you one final story about my life that will highlight the power of this connection. As many of you know, I had a very fraught relationship with my mother. The source of our hostility was her addictions. My mother was a heavy smoker and an alcoholic. I was about 8 or 9 years old when I started putting the pieces together as to how those substances impacted her behaviors. And by the time I had aged into my early teenage years, I had come to deeply resent my mother’s choices.

At the time, I didn’t understand addiction. I didn’t understand how and why people became addicted to substances. All I understood as a teenager is that a mother is supposed to love her children, but my mother’s words and attitude towards me were anything but loving. As a result, over time, I came to loathe my mother. I felt true hate in my heart towards her and that hate fueled a lot of my success because I was determined to prove her wrong.

But this all changed in my junior year of college. As I have told you many times, I studied theology with monks and friars at Oxford University, and we came across the passage we read this morning from Matthew: “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”

The word for love in this passage is avgapa,w (agapao), which is used by the New Testament authors to convey unconditional love. So what Jesus is telling us in this passage is that we should love our enemies unconditionally. I told my teacher I thought that was stupid. Why would you unconditionally love the person who wants to hurt you? Won’t that just give them free reign to hurt you over and over again?

He said, “I know it might sound crazy. In fact, it might sound impossible. But trust me, it will change your life. Whenever your mom insults you, don’t respond with hate, respond with love.” When I left Oxford and came home, from the moment I walked through the door, my mother began hurling insults my way. But instead of fighting with her, I just stood there in silence, listening and not responding.

And then something remarkable happened. When I didn’t respond with anger, I could see this change in her demeanor. It was like our roles had reversed. I had become the adult in the relationship and now she was the child throwing a tantrum. But more importantly, I could see her humanity, which had been lost with my hate. And when she stopped talking, I said, “I’m sorry that I upset you so much. I will try to do better next time.” She was shocked. She didn’t know what to say and just walked away. So, this one moment changed my approach going forward.

Every time she would attack, I used the same defense. I wouldn’t fight back. I would try to show love, care and concern. About a year later, I had met Courtney and she was vacationing with my family in the Outer Banks for the first time. My mom had asked me to take my sisters to a water park, which I said I would do, but she became upset that I didn’t do it when she wanted me to. I said, “We still have plenty of time. I can take them,” but she wouldn’t let up. She kept attacking me, and we ended up outside on the balcony, which overlooked the ocean.

I said, “I don’t understand why you’re so hard on me. What have I done that you treat me this way?” And my mom started crying, (and my mom never cried about anything) and she said, “Because you judge me. In everything you do, you judge me.” In all my time dealing with my mother’s abuse and addictions, I had never considered that maybe she was the one who was hurting and that what she needed to hear was that she was loved. And for the first time in more than 10 years, I told my mom I loved her. And it completely changed the nature of our relationship. From that moment forward, I stopped judging her and she did her best to stop attacking me.

Jesus was right. Loving your enemy really can change the world. By being vulnerable and loving my mother, it broke down her hard exterior, allowing her to be vulnerable with me, which opened our relationship to healing. This wasn’t just some platitude that Jesus rattled off 2000 years ago. There was something truly inspired and divine behind his teachings. That was the moment I became a true believer in Jesus. I simply had to tell everyone who would listen that when we allow God’s unconditional love into our hearts, not only is the world changed for the better, but the world can be healed.

Over the last 10 years, I have tried to convey this message to you in countless ways. It is not only the message that drove me to become a pastor, but it is also the message that drives me as a person, which begs the question: Why am I leaving the pastorate and what am I doing next? I’ve been asked this question by many of you and I think it deserves an answer.

If I’m being honest with you, I am very tired. I’ve given everything to this church over the last ten years. For example, I literally wrote and memorized every sermon I have preached. I did the math and, in that time, I have memorized more than 1 million words. So my brain is full. There’s no more space on the hard drive. I’m hoping I have enough memory left to make it through the rest of this sermon.

But perhaps even more important is that I recognize First Pres needs new leadership and a fresh perspective. When the Israelites were preparing to go to the promised land, God told Moses that he was not the one who would ultimately take them there. I believe the same is true for me. While I’m quite proud of what we’ve accomplished over the last 10 years and the kind of Christians who participate in our community, this church needs a group of pastors who can take the foundation I’ve laid to the next level.

At this point, I need to say that one of the reasons why I was so successful in my time at this church is because of the dedication of the staff who worked alongside me. Without them, I could not have accomplished a tenth of my vision. They will attest that the path forward has not always been easy, but they were great team, top to bottom (pastors, directors, administrators). I would like those people to stand and be recognized. The last ten years would not have been possible without them.

Beyond the staff, I have to thank you, the congregation. Whatever the staff dreamed up, you all actively supported with your financial donations as well as your time and talent. The volunteer hours you all have given is truly astonishing to me. Our success at First Pres has always been a group effort and I know that will continue after I leave. Speaking of which, I want to mention two things about my leaving.

First, once I leave there is going to be a time of discernment to figure out our path forward as a church led by Laura and the Session. That requires input from everyone in this room, so please don’t walk away. First Pres is not about any one pastor. First Pres has been and always will be about the people who make up this community, so stay the course.

Second, I am leaving the pastorate because I feel called to minister outside these walls. As I have told you many times before, I believe one of the most important ways we encounter God’s unconditional love is through our relationships with others. I am going to be investing all of my energy into a business that helps people find and form those relationships so they can experience God’s love in their lives.

But I think it’s important for you all to know that just because I’m leaving, it doesn’t mean that the relationships I formed inside of these walls over the last ten years don’t matter. They do. In fact, I would say that I have experienced God’s unconditional love through this community more profoundly than I’ve experienced it anywhere in my life and, for that, I thank you from the very bottom of my heart. So even though the nature of our relationship will change, where I will no longer be your pastor, our friendships can continue.

Which brings us to the point of this final sermon—change. The hard reality of life is that change is inevitable. If there is one constant in life, it is that nothing stays the same. And yet, I would say in my experience, most people do not take well to change. I am one of those people. As my family will tell you, I am very regimented. I like things in a very particular way. But I also know that, as much as I don’t like change, it’s also good for me. The best things in my life have come about as a result of taking chances and being willing to try new things that pushed me out of my comfort zone.

However, I also recognize that, by making that choice for myself, I am forcing that change on all of you. When the change isn’t your choice, that can make it harder. Yet, as uncomfortable as it can be, I believe you all will be better for it. I truly believe that this congregation has a very bright future ahead of it, but to reach that future, you’ve got to be brave enough to embrace change, which I know you are.

Over the last year, as I’ve been preparing for this change, I’ve been reflecting on how to fully capture the story of my time in this place. And what I realized is that this is not really my story to tell. It’s your story. And so, over the summer, I spent time interviewing various people in the congregation, asking them to reflect on where we’ve been as a church and where we’re going as a community.

So how I want to end my time with you all is by showing you a short film. As you all know, I’ve done a lot of films during my time in at First Pres and this is unlike anything I’ve ever attempted. It’s part documentary, part art piece. You will see shots of the beach and the ocean, the same beach where I had that conversation with my mother that led me down the path to becoming a pastor.

However, at the end you will hear a poem that I wrote specifically for this moment. The words of the poem are printed in your bulletin. If you wouldn’t mind turning to them, I want you to read that poem now so that you’re not looking at it during the film. The poem is entitled And… You will notice that not only is the title And, but every stanza begins with and. Why? Well, and is a conjunction that is used to connect words, clauses, or sentences, that are to be taken jointly. It takes something that came before and connects it with something that comes after.

Ultimately, that is what we are doing here today. Yes, today is an ending, but it’s also a beginning. It connects who we were before with who we will become after. This poem represents my hopes and dreams for this community going forward. I also wanted leave you with something beautiful because, as I have told you many times before, I believe it is through experiencing beauty that we encounter God’s presence in our lives. This is my final gift to you, and I hope that you might return to it often, not only as a memory of our time together, but also as a compass that leads you forward into the future. Amen.

And…

And though we may stumble,
and though we may fall,
we shall tarry amidst the tides,
seeking the better angels of our nature.

And as we bid farewell,
to friends who journey before us,
our hearts eternally whisper,
aching for the timbre of their voice.

And when our lives are but memories,
long lost like the breath of wind,
we shall find each other once again,
consoled by the tears of our long embrace.

And beauty, though piercing,
will not leave us undone,
for our love will bind us together,
and we shall always know that we are truly one.