What Does Renewal Feel Like?

A Question I'm Trying to Answer

“How will you know your renewal leave was successful?” A pastor colleague asked me this months ago, putting into words the question I’d been internally mulling over for a few months. It’s a question I’m still trying to answer. What does renewal feel like?

I have received an incredible gift from the Church - a whole summer of renewal leave, aka sabbatical leave. Three months for me and my family to seek that illusive, hard-to-define renewal. Scriptures use a variety of metaphors to describe it, including:

“Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” -Isaiah 40:30-31 (NIV)

“The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.” Isaiah 58:11, NIV

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30, NIV

This summer of renewal, which we’ve been planning for over two years, is more than a paid holiday. In the United Methodist tradition in which I serve, we clergy are provided the opportunity for renewal leave every seven years. Seven is theologically significant, of course, as seven is also the year of Jubilee named in Leviticus 25. The year when debts are forgiven and fields are left untended so they may lie fallow for a whole year, a long rest before another season of fruitful production.

Jubilee and it’s fallow fields is the metaphor that I keep returning to, imagining myself as a field that is free to grow wild. Instead of the cultivated rows of produce I’m accustomed to — the to-do lists and routines of sermon prep and Bible study teaching and pastoral counseling — I am allowed to simply be. To see what flowers can grow from the weeds, what butterflies like to visit this untended earth, what rain feels like when I’m not depending on it to produce, produce, produce.

This search for renewal just happens to overlap a season of pastoral transition. When renewal leave began at the end of May, I said farewell to the church I have loved and served for six years. When we return to ministry at the end of our renewal leave, I will begin serving at a different church, one I am eager to meet and love and lead. So I find myself in a strange season of in-between-ness. I’m a pastor without a flock, a preacher without a pulpit, a leader without a people to lead.

While this pastoral transition was unexpected (it sometimes is in the United Methodist Church) and while it was so hard to say goodbye to the people I love so dearly, I am discovering the gift of this strange in-between-ness. I can just BE, with no expectations other than centering myself in the love of God and the profound gift of my family.

Speaking of family, I have a husband and two daughters, ages eleven and nine. Today we are beginning a 6-week long journey across the eastern seaboard with a minivan and a pop-up camper. We will camp in beautiful parks and be tourists in big cities. We will chase fireflies, roast s’mores, enjoy hikes, and probably make some friends along the way.

When my colleague asked me months ago how I will know my renewal leave was successful, I answered as best I could in the moment.

“I’ll know it’s been successful when I return to ministry and someone brings me a new idea and it doesn’t make me tired,” I replied. It’s still a true answer, but perhaps it’s not the fullest answer.

If I were to answer the question today, I would say, “I will know this renewal leave has been successful when I can describe what renewal feels like, what it smells and tastes and sounds like.”

I’m well on my way. For now, renewal feels like stopping myself from checking my email obsessively. It feels like learning to be present to each and every moment God has given me. And in the weeks to come, I suspect renewal will look like open roads and gorgeous views. I suspect it will smell like campfire and sound like my girls’ laughter and taste like Maine lobster and Canadian mussels.

I have all sorts of ideas of what renewal will feel like in the weeks to come, but I can tell you with certainty what it feels like today. Renewal feels like gratitude. Gratitude for the Church, because the Church has given me this extraordinary gift. The Church has embraced the spirit of Jubilee alongside me, reminding me that it is okay to lie fallow. Reminding me - yet again - that I am not loved for what I can produce; rather, I am loved simply by being me, even a fallow field growing wild in the Kingdom of God.

You see, with all its scandals, failures, and political schemes, it is still a beautiful Church. Be hopeful. God is still here.

P.S. Unless creativity strikes like a lightning bolt and I can’t help but write, you will not hear from me again until September. I’ll be back, with many stories to share of the beautiful church I am soon to serve!