Weep with Those Who Weep
Recently, our church experienced a huge loss. Our pastor had passed away while he was exercising. He had a heart attack, he was only 50, and it was fatal. He was the only pastor of our growing church and was extremely committed to the church, and most of all, to following God.
He called himself the "under shepherd" of Jesus. He was a friend to many, a mentor to many, as well. And a great teacher of God's word.
"Squermons" is what I would call those messages that he gave that hit a little too hard sometimes. But, oh how they taught us, how he taught us God's word. Our church is still grieving and will be for some time. More than half of us have been fighting some kind of illness, whether it be COVID or other colds or flu, or just extreme fatigue. We are exhausted because we went through a huge ordeal! Stress and shock and now we're mourning. (Plus, it's 16 degrees Farenheit as I write this. ugh... He would have loved that; our pastor was a huge fan of snow! Anyway, he was and will continue to be an example to his church and many people and will be dearly missed.
Monday night, about 20 women gathered in a circle of chairs and prayed and shared stories about how our pastor had impacted their lives. To everyone, it seemed, he was a mentor and teacher and friend, a shepherd (he called himself an "Under shepherd") who made everyone feel special. Everyone had a story to share. It was nice to hear these stories, and they reminded me of something.
Ever the student, I default to listening whenever possible, so I thought of some things but instead wanted to hear everyone else share.
One of our leaders shared scripture and gathered all together. With the exception of a few hugs and smiles, I stayed a listening ear as women, some who've never spoken up before
Wednesday, we held a Celebration of Life for our church family.
There was congregational singing, and his son drummed in his dad's honor, since he was our drummer initially, then he had to move and dad asked to take over, much to my surprise.
"He always said he wanted one big worship service," his wife Bekah, texted us on Sunday night. "Would you guys be willing to lead the music for everyone?"
Yes, we replied without any hesitation. He was our pastor and mentor and servant of the worship team.
"He loved worshiping with you! It was so healing for him!" she also said.
The last couple of months especially, we started to view him as a friend, too. A mentor, absolutely, but we three got close the last couple of months before he passed away.
Here is the reason:
We used to pray for the next day's service with him on Saturday nights. The first few weeks, our call lasted about 10 minutes. Gradually, as we each got to know each other better, the call time extended. Our last call, the three of us talked for 2 hours!
That's a long time, but it was a combination of teaching, and sharing personal and spiritual growth, and learning. Through that and private (at times) rehearsals, the three of us bonded. We were the leaders, but we were also in service to our congregation, and our own worship team, each other, and ultimately God. He helped us to see that and nurtured us in our respective roles. He left us at a time where Kevin is now teaching the men at their Monday bible studies and leads the praise team in a devotional and prayer time before we rehearse, each Sunday.
I'm confident, er God-fident in my role as director, but more than that, he taught me how to submit to God's leading on Sunday mornings and throughout the week. He taught me to "belt it out" for God's glory, don't hold back. He taught me the value and joy of giving God the glory by letting our light shine as bright as it will, so that when people look up at us, we look up and their eyes follow.
Up. To Jesus, the source and solution. Our salvation.
At the candlelight service, he was in town and in between traveling, so he stopped in and surprised us all. Afterwards, we chatted and hugged (we never hugged out of mutual respect) but finally, I felt like all barriers had broken down and we were not only co-workers but also friends and family. He was my pastor, but he felt like my older brother (and boss, if that makes sense) at the same time.
Our connection was genuine and unmasked; unguarded, even. From the casual text response of "Why not?" when he asked us to do a song last minute, to the mini reunion afterwards.
In that 20-minute catch-up time after that service, we got to share with him that our drummer who was filling in for pastor that month was now seeking the Lord during his drumming, and he got to know that we understood him having to be on a short sabbatical, if you will, and that Kevin was successful in leading the morning's devotions, and that I had other ministries to go forward with.
We hugged again (this time he asked permission of my husband) and said our goodbyes. That was the last time we ever would see him, but we left that night feeling really connected, good and READY to let him go.
Serenity, I guess, is the word for how we feel. Peace; God's peace.
RIP Pastor Zack Jan. 18, 1973-Jan. 5, 2023
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