The most difficult thing about following God’s call to go somewhere is leaving where you’ve been. That’s true for us as we prepare to go to St. Paul’s, Wickford. We’ll miss the home we’ve made here in Charlotte, but even more, the people at Christ Church whom we’ve come to know and care for during our time here.

    I don’t often stop to think about it. I suppose few of us do until we’re faced with calls to go to other places. But most of the main characters in the Bible spent much of their adult lives moving from one place to another. Adam and Eve, Noah and his family, Abraham and Sarah, Jacob, Moses, the Israelites, many of the prophets, St. Paul, and, of course, Jesus Himself. Faith involves action, and action often involves movement. That’s one of the reasons people speak of faith as a journey though for most of us that journey is an inward one of spiritual movement.

    I imagine all those biblical heroes experienced some of the same kinds of feelings that we do as we prepare to follow God on the next leg of the journey that He’s laid out before us. We feel exhilaration — the excitement of a new adventure, intermingled with grief — the loss of familiar places and friends. Nonetheless we must follow our sense of God’s call and be faithful to it even if it entails the pain of loss.

    More than one person recently has asked me, “How do you know when or if God is calling you to do something?” Well, let’s take my vocational discernment as an example.

    As you may know, about a year and a half ago three different dioceses contacted me about the position of bishop. Never before that time had I entertained the idea of serving as a bishop. But I wondered if God might be trying to get my attention when all three inquiries came at once. As I read each profile it was clear to me that I was spiritually incompatible with one job description. After a telephone interview with the search committee of another it became equally clear that our respective visions for the mission of the Church were different. The third went all the way to the eve of announcing the final candidates before I withdrew my name. One of my main reasons for withdrawing had to do with something Bishop Gloster said to me during my discernment process. It kept coming to mind when I prayed. He said, “If there’s anything about parish ministry that you like and don’t want to stop, don’t become a bishop, because it’s an entirely different career.” Politics, fundraising, and administration are important, but not the most life-giving aspects of ministry for me, and so I concluded that the office of bishop was not God’s call to me. I’m too committed to being part of a Christian community. Discernment involves listening to the Lord and also knowing yourself and His gifts to you.

    Throughout the past year or so I’ve received the profiles of several parishes. One - St. Paul’s, Wickford - caught my eye. I put it aside, but Sandra brought it to my attention again. God often speaks through our spouses. Yes, the parish was beautifully located on Narragansett Bay — overlooking a harbor replete with sailboats — but while aesthetic location may intrigue us it certainly isn’t God’s voice. Yes, it’s one of the oldest Episcopal churches in the country and rich with heritage, but while history is fascinating, its appeal isn’t God’s voice. Yes, it’s a good size parish — almost half the size as Christ Church, but size, prestige, and money, while they may be alluring, aren’t God’s voice. I thought I heard God’s voice in other attributes of the parish. St. Paul’s is a diverse community in age and socio-economics — with fishermen, lobstermen, teachers, craftsmen, artists, other professionals and sailors. It’s a parish that above all else values loving community and spiritual growth. It’s looking for a rector who’ll help its people love God and each other as a Christ-centered community — a preacher, a pastor and a priest. And that, as you know, is my heart’s desire. Most compelling of all,I valued the quality of genuine, personal sharing and prayerfulness that I saw among their search committee and vestry as I met with them. I felt joy rising as well as ideas about how to help them address their growing edges — stewardship, volunteerism, and Christian formation. God seems to have given me the abilities they need, and they seem to possess the quality of community that we need. I sensed God’s call in that serendipity of compatibility, spirituality, temperament, and mission. Moreover, I felt that Christ Church was at a place in which my leaving would not deter from its forward movement in mission.

    And so, when I try to discern God’s will - God’s call - I use my head, my heart, my loved ones, my intuition, scripture and lots of prayer — to determine who I am and what God is calling me to be and to do. As all discernment does, it requires self-knowledge and knowledge of God, but also the willingness to follow where God wants us to go. The journey of faith doesn’t always mean movement away to another locale, but more often and more significantly movement within — an inward journey of spiritual growth and of growth in Christ — in becoming who God wants us to become. That applies to churches as well as individuals.