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           A number of years ago, as a very green new minister at Christ Congregational Church, and undergoing my first formal evaluation, I asked the personnel committee to work with me to define what the role of the senior minister really is. That led to some very helpful discussions. And I recall the message to me was to imagine CCC as a kind of sailing ship. In this metaphor the wind is the Holy Spirit providing the driving force. The congregation is the crew and officers. The moderator is the captain. The role of the senior minister includes several features. First, it is to be a navigator – to plot the course and keep the ship going in the right direction; of course, paying attention to where the wind (the Spirit) was blowing. But the senior minister is to be a kind of visionary navigator. The journey should have a purpose and a destination. So really the role of the senior minister is to lead in the discernment of the course. The way this was put to me was, “Don’t tell us what the vision is, but work with us to discern the vision. We want to do this together. And when the course is clear, then let us do it.”  Then, in addition to the visionary navigator, the senior minister’s task is to make sure the ship stays afloat, which means helping everyone to work together in a more or less harmonious fashion. That means there has to be cooperation and but also a sense of honoring the individual: in other words, to be a kind of counselor/cruise director.

            I have found this nautical metaphor very appealing to me, and I have returned to it often. This idea of visionary navigator/counselor/cruise director is interesting for what it doesn’t say. The senior minister is not really the captain, certainly not the CEO. That rules out such role models as John Paul Jones or Captain Bligh. And it does mean that moderators at CCC have a steep learning curve when they step up on the bridge. But, in my twenty-two years at CCC, we have never had a poor moderator. Never. Without exception, each has stepped up to the challenge and performed in amazing ways. And, let it be said, that despite our feisty congregational independence, everyone aboard cannot be up on the bridge at once giving orders. So we agree to trust our leadership to lead.

            There are, of course, other kinds of vessels that could be metaphors for the church. There is, for example, the Roman galley – where the captain barks out orders and a whip is cracked over the slaves at the oars. Boom boom boom  - “Ramming speed!”  Boom boom boom.  Or the Viking war ship. Or maybe a Civil War iron-clad, like the Monitor. Or, in Jungian perspective, we could imagine the church as a submarine – on occasion diving down into the unconscious, befriending the deep. How about an ice-breaker or a tug boat? And, of course, there is the venerable metaphor of the ark in the Bible. The animals and Noah’s family are hustled aboard and the doors are sealed. And then they all just ride up on the waves and are pounded by wind and rain. And, as has been routinely noted, think of everyone’s relief at opening the hatch and letting the sunshine in and the stench out. But, they did get to know each other pretty well on that particular journey! And there are smaller craft as well. I always rather admired George Washington, standing there in the prow of that boat crossing the Delaware. There amid the icy waters, looking calm, clear, brave, determined, and very presidential. Then, there is my personal favorite and role model, Jonah, who gets thrown overboard.

            All of which brings me to an image of the church that my esteemed colleague, Sandy Dodson, shared recently. Woman of the Northern Lake Country that she is, she suggested why not see the church as a canoe, and the people of God paddling together through the wilderness waterways of Northern Minnesota. She tells me there are really big canoes that can hold lots of people. What characterizes a canoe? You need a guide, someone who knows the region, or at least can recognize the signs of white water ahead. I imagine you need someone who can ward off attacks by beavers and bears. You need someone who can keep people paddling. And, of course, everyone has to be careful about rocking the boat, as canoes can easily tip over.

           So here’s a little story. Now let’s suppose we are paddling in a long, narrow canoe into the unknown reaches, in the land of the northern lights, and one day the guide announces, “I think it’s time for me to leave the journey. There are now younger and better-equipped people to do the job. In fact, I know there are villages not too far upstream where such people are available and waiting. So this is my plan. When we get up around that bend up ahead, I want us to pull over to the bank, and I am going to get out, and someone new will get on board. Then you will paddle on. For now, why don’t you start thinking about who you want to join you and where you want them to lead you.” Well, this causes a little commotion in the canoe. It is not totally unexpected, but still a big change. That stirs a certain amount of shifting about in the canoe, mainly because of uncertainty about what will happen next, and there is some tipping until all settle down again. Some may be worried about the future. Some want to say good-bye to the guide. But the point is that all understand that everything is going to be fine. And, really all everybody has to do is just keep their balance. And, of course, remember that when people get out of a canoe, and when people get into a canoe, you have to be careful.

            Well, obviously, this is the CCC journey at the moment. Up there around the bend, I am going to be getting out of the canoe, and you are going to be taking someone new on board. And your journey will continue.  Of course, every metaphor has its strengths and its limitations. But I think the church as canoe image is a good one to gently live with for awhile. Play with it, easefully, and see what it can teach.

            Let me briefly say a little bit more about this time between now and when we turn the bend ahead, next July, and I disembark. Three things, very briefly. First, my announcement puts us into a special time. It seems to me that what we are doing at CCC, with a transition committee and a strategic planning task-force to prepare for an interim minister, is exactly what we should be doing. And, we have briefly welcomed on board a consultant, Roy Oswald, who knows how the river flows, a kind of short-term navigator. But my point is that, even so, the boat is going to rock a bit. Externally, the waters of the river may be smooth or may be rough from time to time. Aboard the canoe, there is going to be a certain amount of shifting around in our seats. Some tipping of the canoe. After all, the only way we can be sure there will be no tipping, is to take the canoe out of the water entirely and park it up on dry ground. It might feel more secure that way, but that is an illusion. A wise sage once said, “The earth shall quake ‘neath them that seek the solid ground.” Amid constant change, the only thing that we can ever be “rooted and grounded” in, as St. Paul says, is love.

            Secondly, I’d like to quote from the Psalm this morning.

                               The floods have lifted up, O LORD,
                                  the floods have lifted up their voice;
                                  the floods lift up their roaring.
                               More majestic than the thunder of the mighty waters,
                                  more majestic than the waves of the sea,
                                  majestic on high is the LORD!

The ancient Hebrews claimed that their God had tamed the chaos of the mighty rivers and seas. The river flows and our canoe rides the rough waters, but God is not in the waters. We hit the rapids, but God is not in the white water. We peer into the deeps below, but God is not to be found in the ocean depths. God rules them all and is more than all of them. And God says, “Trust me, and all will be well. Keep paddling. Don’t waste your energy yearning for the solid ground. There is no solid ground. To complain about change is to complain about being alive. Change? You haven’t seen anything yet. This is only the beginning. So trust me. And keep your balance.” And where is God to be found, if God is not in the mighty ocean waves, or in the white water, or in the depths of the sea, or in the wind or the fire or the earthquake? Where is God? God is peacefully resting in the stern of the canoe. Rebuking the wind and the raging waves. Calming the sea. Stilling the storm.

            Finally, how we all say good-bye in the coming months is really about blessing one another. I love the Apostle Paul’s words in the Letter to the Ephesians. They are a kind of benediction that could also be a farewell blessing. And what he says is somehow what I want to say to you in our remaining time together.

I pray that, according to the riches of God’s glory, Christ may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through the Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love. I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.

AMEN

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