In January, I began a season of ministry without a parish. I said no to more doing, more serving in exchange for something, well, more. I left the local church where I served as senior minister not because of a conflict, not because I thought I was underpaid, and not because a better job came along. I left because God invited me to wake up.
He was homeless, his illegal camp slashed last week along with his meager belongings. There’s no context to visit, nothing to learn because there’s no place to inhabit. “Cancel today’s church meetings. I have a funeral.” And the process begins, just not like before.