"Stepping Off Ice Floes and Falling Into Grace"
A minister's story
Sermon Preached by
The Rev. Dr. Gordon Postill
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Text: Luke 5:1-11
In the mid-80s while doing a Doctor of Ministry program in Boston, I was taking some advanced clinical training. One of the sites I chose to do that was Morgan Memorial Goodwill Industries sheltered workshops for mentally challenged adults. One of my clients - although I think he would have thought I was one of his - was a fellow named Eddy. He was about five feet tall, severely challenged with Down's syndrome, loved to wear a black leather jacket, regardless of the weather, and he embodied gratitude in spite of all he had to deal with in his life. When he was feeling particularly great he'd have that black leather jacket on and he'd give the two thumbs-up with a big smile. Well, I don't have the black leather jacket, but I can give you the two thumbs-up and a smile, because I am full of gratitude.
May 27, 1980 I was ordained by the Toronto Conference as a candidate from Timothy Eaton Memorial Church - YOU. Prior to going up when my name was called, the Scripture reading was the great call to ministry in Isaiah, where God says, “Whom shall we send? Who will go for us?”
And Isaiah says, “Here am I. Send me.”
Truly remarkable, to those who had known me earlier, that I would have been there at that point in time saying “yes” to being a minister in the United Church of Canada. But it gets better, because just five days later, June 1, I'm preaching here at Timothy Eaton Memorial Church on the radio. I've just been ordained and I'm here at Eaton Memorial - hey, not too shabby! I still have a picture of the sign out in front of the church where it has my name with the sermon title, “Beyond the Leper Colony,” and that evening one of my great mentors, The Rev. Dr. Stanford Lucyk's sermon, “Parable of the Assassin.” Not a bad double-bill.
I've had a wonderful ride over the past 25 years, going out to beautiful Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, to the Margaree Valley, where I happened to meet a woman up from Boston on vacation who would become my wife, Robin. We were married in this church by Stan in 1983. I would then return to an incredible congregation in Oshawa, St. Andrew's United. I would serve at Cambridge Street United, and then, very serendipitously, Robin and I just packed up and moved to Naples, Florida. I've always done things a little out of sync, you know. Most people go there later on and they stay there; we went there early and came back. I got into hospice work and have been providing spiritual care to people who are dying and their families. I've been richly blessed and in a very real way, it started here at Eaton Memorial when you took me on as a candidate.
When I first came to you in September 1977, I did not have the kind of track record that one would think candidates would have. In order for you to appreciate that, we must go back a few years. I went to Queen's University in 1967 and once I was there it was very apparent to me that I had no real sense of purpose. I didn't really know why I was there. I certainly wasn't getting anything out of my classes, but of course you had to go to class for that to happen. But I very quickly discovered that I had a great love for alcohol and drugs, and really, that is what kept me going. It kind of numbed my pain.
As the years started to go by, barely passing my first year, failing my second year and repeating it thinking I had failed it again, I found myself in early April of 1970 going down to Lake Ontario. The ice was breaking up, but there were still some ice floes and they were moving at a pretty good pace. Before I knew it, I was wading out into the water and jumping from one ice floe to another, sometimes falling into the water. In a very real way, I think I wanted to die - I really wanted to die.
I remember being on the ice floes and looking back at the shore where there were a number of people who were thinking, “Who's that crazy guy?” I really felt a sort of arrogance and a disdain for life, for people, for relationships, and I didn't care. You know, that was the beginning of pushing the envelope far too long and far too hard. I would leave Queen's, I would work in the nickel mines in Sudbury for three years. I actually did finish my B.A. while I was there, but then I drifted in and out of menial jobs, drawing unemployment. I really had no hope. I was full of despair. I really wanted my life to be over.
Then, out of the blue, in one of those hundreds of furnished rooms I'd lived in, I felt this Damascus Road conversion experience where God touched my heart, and I knew in that instant that I was loved and always would be loved, always had been loved. Incredible. However, it was the second part of that brief experience that kind of bothered me, because that's when I sort of, somehow heard: “Be a minister.” For me at that point in time, that was over the top, that was waaaay over the top.
But you know, I trusted that experience, even though I had never met any clergy that I would like to emulate. (Thankfully that changed.) But I trusted that experience and began my Master of Divinity at Emmanuel College. The tricky part was I had to have a church that would support my candidacy, and I hadn't been to church in a long, long time. I happened to be living in the best furnished room I'd ever been in, on Russell Hill Road, small but very nice, just around the corner from Timothy Eaton Memorial Church. I never dreamed that I would ever be a candidate from here, but I thought maybe someone here could direct me to the hinterlands somewhere where I could go and fail and the fallout would be limited. The call that I put into Eaton Memorial - another coincidence? I don't think so - went right to the Senior Minister at that time, Dr. George Morrison. We talked a little bit and he said, “What are you doing right now?”
I said, “Well, I'm at home on Russell Hill Road.”
He said, “Come on over.” And I came over and met him and the other staff. He asked if I would like to meet with the elders at the next session meeting, because he thought that maybe I could be a candidate from here. Unbelievable!
You know, when I wrote a letter to Dr. Andrew Stirling asking to come today, I really wanted to come to say, “Thank you.” I said in my letter, “You took a chance on me when I could be considered a long shot at best.” For those who knew me back then, I think there's a lot of truth in that. Here you were, not only supporting me and accepting me as a candidate, but you also opened up your hearts, you opened up your arms, you took me in and made it possible for me to have that experience with Toronto Conference - being able to say in my heart with some confidence, “Here am I. Send me.”
In the gospel lesson we heard this morning you can look at that a number of ways. It's one of the great stories of Jesus, and you know we all have our own story, and they intersect with each other. There are a number of ways we can look at that text. Here you have Simon and a rough crew who has been out fishing and nothing has happened. Then you've got Jesus saying, “Come on out, come on out into the deep and let down your nets.”
They're saying, “I don't think so.”
But Simon says, “Okay, if you say it, we'll do it.” And they go out and let down their nets and the catch of fish is so extraordinary that the nets are breaking and the boats are sinking. I choose to look at this as a beautiful metaphor of extravagant grace.
One of the interesting things that has happened in the last 25 years is a lot of people have told me that they were able to relate to me in a way that they hadn't with a lot of other clergy. Although they really didn't know any of my story, I think there is something that they could intuit in me. They had a sense that I knew what despair was, I knew what hopelessness was, I knew what it was to be afraid, I knew what it was to be alone and isolated. I think they could sense in me that I knew what it was like to be alienated, cut off, and they opened up with me over the years.
I've had wonderful parishioners, parishioners with that Cape Breton hospitality; parishioners at St. Andrew's in Oshawa who went a long way with me and we did some great things; parishioners in Lindsay at Cambridge Street and, in particular, my hospice patients and families. I sit there helping them to prepare to die, being a compassionate presence, non-judgemental, meeting them where they are at - very much in the same way that you at Timothy Eaton Memorial Church were there for me 25 years ago.
I have also understood that we all have our own ice floes. We all have our worries, our concerns, our troubles, our pain and we all need that comforting presence to help us step off. It's really a surrendering and a letting go, and as we do so, we truly fall into grace, extraordinary grace that can help us have a vision that's beyond anything that we ever could have hoped for. There is absolutely no way that back in 1977 I could have ever dreamed that I would have had the life that I've had, to have met the wonderful mentors I met - two of them are here today: The Rev. Dr. Malcolm Finlay from St. Luke's Innercity Church where I did an internship, and The Rev. Dr. Stan Lucyk. I also feel the spirit of Dr. Morrison, I feel the spirit of Charlie Plaskett, Stephen Mabee and Patricia MacKay, I feel your spirit because all of us are connected. We all are one.
There's a wonderful poem by a Spanish poet, Antonio Machado:
Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.
When I saw those words I wept, because I believe in a very real way all of those times, those lonely, despairing, dark, dismal times on my own ice floes, have somehow been redeemed, they've somehow enabled me in my own way to be able to be of comfort to those who are really wishing to step off of theirs.
I would encourage you as a congregation, a great congregation, to be never limited in your vision, to hesitate never in risking something because you're not sure how it's going to turn out. Sometimes something looks like a long shot at best but that's what ministry is all about. And we're all ministers, we're all called to step off of our ice floes and to fall into that grace and in so doing, help others step off of theirs. And together, we can do wondrous things.
In conclusion, you have no idea what it means to be here with you today with my wife, Robin, with old friends, childhood friends, friends from Queen's, parishioners and to be so welcomed by the staff here at Timothy Eaton Memorial Church. When I look back on my life, I know that today was one of the highlights of my life and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for making this all possible. God bless.
This is a verbatim transcription of the original sermon.