Kevin and I define only a portion of a bigger picture. Church leadership had been informed by the individual Kevin was with, when he left the house that first night he had been confronted by members of the staff. Their position had always been for Kevin to resign, making a firm line he maintain no real role of leadership within the church. We meet with church board members; defiantly asking for Kevin to remain in his role. This defiance is not rooted in worth or duty but in the absolute largest margin of how greatly we cared for our congregation and surrounding community. As Kevin begins to speak to the small group of members he comes off as untouchable, like a stone, only breaking composure when he states “I have no more tears left in my body” then convulses and sobs.
We all watch, almost like we are flies on a wall intruding in a space we were never invited in to. Memory does not clarify if I reach for Kevin, or if I remain in my own space of misery. I propose, alongside Kevin, to take time to repair a sea of brokenness and then return to his role. Sitting in the same warmly lit office we interviewed in years ago, now asking to be given a second chance is surreal. Board members talk to us; I assume they asked us questions, I don’t remember anything other than tears. As we leave a member stops us in the hallway, formally introducing himself, and telling me how much I had helped his wife evolve their eating habits while he was battling cancer. We both weep into his shoulders. A few days later the Church would ask Kevin to resign and there would be no potential for him to come back as a leader. Leadership also asks that we not attend services at our campus, for whatever reason they thought was important at the time. Distracting, dysfunctional, hurtful, I am not sure, even now. At this point I remain a puddle of tears on the floor.
When we interviewed for the Pastoral position I was nearly nine months pregnant with Elijah. We sat in the same room with many of the same board members asking us hardline questions I perceived as completely unneeded. A gentleman asked us how committed we were to Benton Heights community, the neighborhood surrounding the church campus. At odds with my very pregnant position, I thought we would clearly be committed, for at minimum, a minute or two since this was our first child and Kevin’s first position outside of youth ministry.
I may of made joke of this sentiment in the moment but I also believed there was little else for potential leadership within the church. This ministry gig was hard, unglamourous, and gritty. All points deeply connecting with Kevin, not entirely so with me. The whole picture of the potential ministry was bleak, small, strange, and pretty country. Very country if you asked specific demographics. Even so, Kevin felt an immediate connection to the campus and surrounding neighborhood, as it unapologetically boasted no sidewalks and one lone corner store.
Before we had announced any candidacy for the position to the Benton Heights members we attended a Sunday service. As a ministry couple Kevin and I had seen many a churches on the spectrum of small or big, healthy or dying; I did not have much of any expectations but knew whoever was going to lead this bag would need to be up for a considerable challenge. Kevin was hand picked to be considered. After graduating from MACU, a Christian University in Oklahoma, Kevin stayed plugged into the Church of God denomination, serving as a youth pastor, on boards and chairs. We had seen a lot, cringed at a lot, and made fun of a lot of services but what was the most striking about the Benton Heights campus was the beauty of the sanctuary. Built in the forties, the sanctuary had rows of Gothic windows, curved and vaulted ceilings, a small stage with seating for only 200ish people.
We gingerly move through the doors to attend a service, the building looks and smells very close to one’s local Mom and Pop thrift store. No one really greeted us on our visit, or introduced themselves, even though I had a very hot pink blouse on and was a full blown nine month pregnant. We looked around at the thirty some odd, very random people, seated in the basically empty sanctuary, really having no idea what could happen. Kevin possesses a radical mantra during this period of ministry, that we will be ok with being uncomfortable, and not really defining what uncomfortable means. We commit to filling the pastor position a few weeks later. Eventually, we move into the church’s original parsonage beside the church; our life, our neighborhood, our friends, are all we have and they are all a direct connection to Kevin being everyone’s Pastor.
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