You SURE it's been thirty years?!?

One of my spiritual gifts is showing up. I blame my parents. They showed up for each other. They showed up for their church. They showed up for their family. They showed up for their community.

So I have a genetic predisposition to show up, plus two excellent role models who taught me to do so by example. Last Sunday a bunch of people showed up to honor the thirtieth anniversary of my ordination into the ministry. People who have just won some award will often say they are humbled by the experience. I admit I have scoffed when I heard that. No more. Humbled is exactly how I feel.

My wife Linda planned a celebration of my 30^th year of professional ministry and kept me in the dark about it. We held our worship service last Sunday in a lakeside park. It took a little logistical preparation, so I worked on it for a couple of weeks. Linda apparently worked on the secret celebration for months.

I suppose I should have tumbled when the bagpiper climbed out of her car and started warming up in the parking lot. But I was in the midst of rehearsal with our praise band and had time only to think, “What in the heck is she doing here?”

Maybe I should have tumbled when the retired denominational official who had supported me so powerfully when we struggled to start our new congregation arrived. I had not seen him in a couple of years. But I thought, “Well, it is the lake service and he always used to love it.”

Then my college roommate stepped out of his car. Then one of our elders touched me on the shoulder, and with a twinkle in her Celtic eyes told me just to let things happen, I was not in charge that Sunday, for once. Then Linda raised her hand at the end of the announcements, when we ask for birthdays and anniversaries. “We'll have one more anniversary at the end of worship,” she said.

Oh.

All summer I had occasionally thought of the approach of my 31^st year of getting paid to preach and teach and lead youth groups and listen to grieving souls and all the rest of it. I had heard nothing of any recognition and if asked, I would have discouraged it. But Linda felt I deserved it. I think perhaps she also knew I needed it.

Every person who shows up year after year can get a little melancholy about it. Does anybody see what I'm doing? Do they care? If I draw attention to myself and then they thank me that's not really gratitude, is it? Like many young hot-shots I started out convinced I would set the church world on fire. I would pastor big churches and make them bigger. I would win.

But the insults and the professional sidesteps mount up and, like most preachers of my acquaintance, I gradually accepted that my calling was to do my best to stay faithful to the Word of God, and to God's people, come what may. Yes, people often leave when they don't get everything they want. They leave marriages, they leave businesses, they leave churches. Yes, people with no understanding of my calling believe they understand it completely and—often angrily—do not hesitate to enlighten me. Yes, I have made many, many mistakes.

But I have kept showing up. And if pride is a sin, this makes me a sinner. When people loved me enough to show up last Sunday they scraped a lot of the discouraging barnacles off my hull. Thank you, every one of you, even those who showed up through a card in the mail, an email, a Facebook message. I feel humbled. I feel blessed. I guess I'll keep showing up.