When I was young, had anyone suggested that I spend most of my life being “a minister,” I’d have smirked, thought about it, and then laughed right out loud. But life shifts and changes you, and after what I recently came to understand as a “post-traumatic growth” period, I found myself choosing to study theology and embedding myself in the work of engaging community in conversations about wonder, beauty, truth, goodness, and love and what we are privileged to do with all that. So here I am, at my retirement, having spent over a quarter of a century and a good chunk of my life as just that, a minister in The United Church of Canada.

 

There are so many gifts to reflect upon when I consider what I have been privileged to share with others, those defining moments in people’s lives: joy and delight, the deep crevasses of grief, the welcoming of new life, the wading through unrelenting despair and emotional trauma; the discovery and embrace of new friendships; and the view from the front, watching the magic of community weave and reweave itself together every Sunday morning and in the joy and laughter of too many dinners and events to count.

And within that context, I found another voice within me. Quietly, and then unrelentingly, it required that I challenge the assumptions around the language we use in church. Shifting little by little, then writing books that others found meaningful – helpful, even – I used my voice to invite others to speak about the challenges they, too, found within Christianity and the churches that hold its story. Travelling to so many places around the world to share ideas and conversations with others choosing an emerging way of faith, I spoke and sparred, listened and learned. It has been such a gift to have walked that freshly trod path, laid out by others and most particularly my mentor and guide, Bishop John Shelby Spong, whose encouragement and support was life-altering.

 

West Hill and I learned and changed together. The congregation grew through so much. I often tell the story of listening in a congregational meeting as a member spoke about the first VisionWorks document being presented, an alternative to a statement of faith that would guide the congregation to live out the values it held crucial to their faith. As she spoke, she noted that the document identified values as foundational, replacing the Bible as the congregation’s foundational document. I’d been in all those meetings. I’d read VisionWorks many times. But until that moment, I hadn’t noticed the disappearance of Christianity’s foundational document. In all the changes West Hill went through, I may have been a midwife, but I was not the leader. The congregation’s leader was its own conscience.

The work of leading the congregation in inspirational gatherings could not have happened as it did without my partner, Scott Kearns. A gifted musician, he had been unable to write music since leaving his evangelical home, where his work was vibrant and welcomed. Only when the Canadian Centre for Progressive Christianity was about to be launched, did I express lament to him that he had not written a song we could sing. Within three days, he had written and introduced a soloist to “The Light of Love,” one of the most beautiful songs I know. Since then, he has composed and written lyrics to dozens more pieces, alternately lifting and sheltering the community through its journey. No minister can offer inspiration equal to that augmented by powerful and moving music. He has been my companion in that space of creating wonder and in the places where wonder seemed lost and my heart needed a home to rest.

Along the way, there were some who could not make with me that journey beyond the traditional elements of their faith. They found other congregations where their understanding of faith remained more securely held. I still mourn the loss of their friendship and trust, wishing we might have wrestled together long enough to find common ground.

Having been on leave for the past few months, today’s morning began as it often does. Doing some therapy required for maintaining my health – we are of a certain age when we retire, are we not? Reading from two books about the areas of life in which I hope to make a difference over the next few years. Watching the Baltimore Orioles in the garden, lapping their way through a second bottle of Concord grape jelly. Picking some fresh irises for the kitchen table, and wrapping up some lily of the valley for a neighbour to enjoy.

 

There is still so much to do. So much wonder to experience. So much beauty to touch. So much damage to heal. So much joy to make come true.

After Glow: a full unfolding of beauty beyond its prime.

 

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The Rev. Gretta Vosper is a retired United Church of Canada minister who is an atheist. Her best-selling books include With or Without God: Why The Way We Live is More Important Than What We Believe, and Amen: What Prayer Can Mean in a World Beyond Belief. She has also published three books of poetry and prayers. Visit her website here and her Blog here.