Alban Weekly from The Duke Divinity School in Durham, North Carolina, United States "PRACTICAL WISDOM FOR LEADING CONGREGATIONS: Spiritual Leadership for Leaving Well" for Monday, 20 March 2017
Spiritual leadership for leaving well
A PASTOR REFLECTS ON LEAVING HER CONGREGATION
Leaving Well is a gift to the congregation and to the spiritual leader. Giving this gift both to the congregation and to myself, guided me as I navigated three years of intentional preparation for retirement. My departure has been one of the most satisfying seasons of my ministry.
Leaving a congregation well is an act of spiritual leadership. As the leader, I had the opportunity to shape the emotional, organizational, and spiritual process for the congregation. I could frame theologically the meaning of saying good-bye, the gratitude for ministry shared, and the promise of ministry for the future. By leaving well, I had the opportunity to create a bridge to the future for the congregation and for me.
Certainly clergy had departed this congregation before. There was a history of hasty departures; some initiated by the clergy and some initiated by the congregation. The congregation had never experienced clergy departure as an intentional process. For over 60 years, they had never been guided through the experience that spiritual relationships change during the leaving process. In varying degrees of sadness to acceptance to confusion to anger, members had limited practice differentiating between emotional cut off and redefining the relationship.
The intentional spiritual process spanned three years. The first year, I prayed. I weighed the losses of role, responsibility, decision-making, and shaping the life of the congregation. I weighed the gains of time to pursue long -delayed projects, time with family, and a different rhythm of life. I discussed the pros and cons only with my husband and one close spiritual friend.
In the second year I internally tested my decision as well as externally listened for the needs of the congregation. Only when I discernment that I was listening to the presence of the Holy Spirit both in my life and the congregation's, then did I set goals for my ministry of leaving well.
For the third year, the focus of my spiritual leadership would be to put the congregation in the strongest possible position to attract strong candidates as the next rector. Two projects emerged: First, a capital campaign to address the long-standing physical needs of our 14 acre campus; and second, the continuation of building a strong and informed governance structure for both in the parish day school and the parish.
Carol Pinkham Oak: Spiritual Leadership for Leaving WellLeaving Well is a gift to the congregation and to the spiritual leader. Giving this gift both to the congregation and to myself, guided me as I navigated three years of intentional preparation for retirement. My departure has been one of the most satisfying seasons of my ministry.
Leaving a congregation well is an act of spiritual leadership. As the leader, I had the opportunity to shape the emotional, organizational, and spiritual process for the congregation. I could frame theologically the meaning of saying good-bye, the gratitude for ministry shared, and the promise of ministry for the future. By leaving well, I had the opportunity to create a bridge to the future for the congregation and for me.
Certainly clergy had departed this congregation before. There was a history of hasty departures; some initiated by the clergy and some initiated by the congregation. The congregation had never experienced clergy departure as an intentional process. For over 60 years, they had never been guided through the experience that spiritual relationships change during the leaving process. In varying degrees of sadness to acceptance to confusion to anger, members had limited practice differentiating between emotional cut off and redefining the relationship.
The intentional spiritual process spanned three years. The first year, I prayed. I weighed the losses of role, responsibility, decision-making, and shaping the life of the congregation. I weighed the gains of time to pursue long -delayed projects, time with family, and a different rhythm of life. I discussed the pros and cons only with my husband and one close spiritual friend.
In the second year I internally tested my decision as well as externally listened for the needs of the congregation. Only when I discernment that I was listening to the presence of the Holy Spirit both in my life and the congregation’s, then did I set goals for my ministry of leaving well.
For the third year, the focus of my spiritual leadership would be to put the congregation in the strongest possible position to attract strong candidates as the next rector. Two projects emerged: First, a capital campaign to address the long-standing physical needs of our 14 acre campus; and second, the continuation of building a strong and informed governance structure for both in the parish day school and the parish.
The church’s governing board engaged a well-regarded capital campaign firm. We raised almost half of our goal. However, it was enough to start a fund to address the most pressing needs. Promises for giving in the future were also secured. As importantly the process raised unresolved issues from a capital campaign of fifteen years ago that the congregation could now begin to discuss
For the strong, informed governance structures, the approach for the school’s Board of Trustees and the Vestry took different directions. By expanding the school’s Board of Trustees to include more alumni parents, the Trustees gained a wider view of how governance guides the mission of the institution.
For the church’s governing board, the first step was identifying the future needs of the congregation and the second step was honoring our history. To encourage the congregation’s leaders to look three years into the future, I included in my monthly report information about our congregation as an organization. One month I shared current compensation norms for lay professionals and clergy in comparison to the congregation’s compensation structure. Another month focused on the jobs of the office staff. Another was a presentation about the healthy relationships between a church’s governing board and a school’s board. The budget draft included three scenarios: current resources, resources needed to address compensation needs, and resources to address compensation, staffing, and physical plant needs.
To honor our history, I and others retold the story of many of the leaders, benefactors and memorial gifts given throughout the congregation’s history. A team prepared a forum on the congregation in the 1850’s to 60’s, including listing church board members who were slave owners. We then looked at the change of our context when the suburban area around us expanded in the 1980’s. One board meeting I shared Christmas and Easter bulletins from the 1960s to the 1990s. Lay leaders claimed their current leadership as part of a larger whole.
Throughout this time of addressing the congregations needs, I intentionally did not share my decision to retire recognizing that embedded in the congregation’s history was a pattern of conflict during clergy transitions.
In September, entering year three of my process of leaving well, I told two key lay leaders and two members of the clergy team that I would retire the following spring. My top priority during this phase of the transition was that both the congregation and the school maintain their momentum. My second priority was that the congregation experience leadership change as a spiritual unfolding of grief and gratitude.
Our team began the process of planning for the transition. Three phases of transition were worked out in advance so that the congregation could be clear about each stage and focus on the purpose of each stage. First, the initial planning before the January announcement; second, the three and a half months of saying thank you and goodbye; and third, the farewell on Sunday May 1. The subsequent May annual meeting would reset the transition process towards the search process.
In the initial planning stage from September through December, our team to defined roles for clergy and lay staff, discussed interim clergy, and the relationships beyond the church. The retired Bishop, who at the time was serving part-time on the clergy staff, offered to serve as interim. He knew the congregation. They trusted his judgment. His relationships among staff and ministries were strong. And, he and I shared the view that clarity in leadership is good pastoral care for the congregation.
To keep the momentum moving we implemented the most needed capital campaign projects, updated the parish picture directory, launched a ministry for mental health awareness, initiated a staff and lay pastoral care coordinator, transitioned lay leadership for the Pastoral Care Commission, hired a new associate rector, planned for the final term of our clergy resident, as well as kept all the ministries moving forward. We built the bridge for the clergy and lay leaders to work together with confidence through the entire transition.
When the announcement was made in January board meeting, the overall reaction was surprise. As I tried to keep my composure I explained that after 30 years of parish ministry the time had come for me to spend more time with my husband and live life in a different key. I commented that I looked forward to sitting in church with my spouse, an experience we had never had in our marriage. On the way out of the meeting one member with a wide grin quietly commented to me, “You know, I’ve been sitting in church for a long time with my wife. It’s not everything it’s cracked up to be.” Naturally some church board members wanted to know when the search process would begin. The lay leaders of the planning team clearly stated our three stages. That church board meeting launched the second stage, “thank-you and good-bye.”
The strong collegial relationship between the retired bishop and me provided clarity, comfort, and confidence. He and I are both students of Family Systems theory. We employed our shared knowledge to reassure and to lead. As a leadership team, we were not going to jump into “fix it and search mode.” It was time to appreciate our ministry together. The announcement letter was mailed the day before a blizzard. However, by Sunday, most of the congregation had received the news.
Even with all the intentional bridge building, spiritual preparation, and leadership clarity, saying good-bye was hard to do. I was surprised by how many people assumed I would move from the altar and pulpit to a pew in the church. “After all,” many said, “my friends were there, why could I not continue to worship there?” I offered a story from the work life of sales and another from the perspective of a teacher. As a sales person, if the recently retired person who covered your new territory wanted to go on all your sales calls with you, how would that work? If the recently retired teacher wanted to sit in the back of the classroom while the new teacher led the class, how much learning would take place? With those mental pictures, most people opened up to why and how clergy not only leave the congregation but leave well.
Many times over the following weeks, I wholeheartedly said that I would miss them and the worship of the parish. I was clear with the interim, clergy, and lay staff, as well as the congregation’s leadership, that I would refer all the inevitable requests for weddings, funerals, and baptisms back to the interim. I was also clear that I would return for a special, public adult formation event that was already announced, that I would attend as a worshiper the funerals of parish members I knew well so that I could give thanks for their lives, and that I would remain on the parish Prayer Chain so that I could be part of that public and on-going ministry of the parish. Since I would continue living in the local community, I was building the bridge to future relationships that were different from my ministry as senior pastor.
The season of good-bye and thank you was emotional. We all expected our own roller coasters but knew we could not predict exactly how we would ride the waves. We anticipated the anxiety, sadness, anger, and celebration while also knowing that, as the internal planning team and as individuals, we would have to be aware of the impact on us. It was a time of both teaching and of grieving for me.
The teaching took the form of the large and small group gatherings as well as many individual meetings. Three informal receptions for the congregation were planned so that particular groups and worshiping congregations could attend. I met over forty members for individual coffees, lunches, and to thank them for their ministry. For some, I thanked them for a particular ministry and shared how much I hoped they continued serving. For others, I had presided at a wedding or funeral and I wanted one on one time with them because the time we had shared together was sacred. By saying good-bye and thank you, I was building one bridge for me into my future ministry and one bridge for their future relationship with the next rector.
I grieved as I said goodbye to the many people for whom I cared deeply. I gave thanks for our connections. I loved seeing them in church and loved the conversation we shared. I appreciated their support and their prayers. I told them how special it was to be part of their family’s wedding, or funeral, or transition. Although it made me sad, I respected the choice of the people for whom it was too hard or too uncomfortable to say good-bye. They avoided the topic. Others cancelled our planned get together at the last minute promising to call and reschedule. Then, there were some people who were challengers to my leadership the entire time I was the rector. Those were the people who showed emotional cut off, being physically present but emotionally indifferent or hostile. As the final Sunday drew closer, there were pronounced actions of refusing to greet me, turning away as I welcomed them into worship, and in one case an angry explosion as the procession was forming to go into worship. While I understood their actions, it still hurt. That is part of the process of saying goodbye too.
Since I am remaining in the community, many people said, “Oh, I’ll see you in the supermarket.” And, I might. I also might not. What I do know is that whenever I see them next, the relationship will be different. I reassured people that if we do run into one another I will be glad to see them. I’ll want to know about their families. Some asked, “Am I allowed to talk to you?” “Yes!” I replied. I spoke openly about my retirement not being an emotional cut off, but that they would be moving into new ministry and new relationships. It would be a delicate balance. If I run into a member in the hardware store and the happy announcement of an upcoming family wedding has just been made I will rejoice with them. If it comes up about who will do the ceremony, then it will be my responsibility to guide the member to the current clergy.
Leaving well is a practice of spiritual leadership to build a bridge to the future both for the congregation, the departing clergy leader, and the incoming clergy leader. The effect of intentional transition will only be fully experienced when the new leader arrives. My prayer is that by leaving well and building a bridge to the future, the parish is able to feel safe when the large transition inevitably happens. It will be time to form new relationships for new ministry, and, to form a new chapter in the congregation’s history.
The Rev. Dr. Carol Pinkham Oak is the founder of The Network for Spiritual Leaders where you can read her blog.
Read more from Carol Pinkham Oak »
IDEAS THAT IMPACT: TRANSITION INTO RETIREMENT
A time for lasts
In many ways a minister's retirement is the reverse image of her or his first congregational call. Decades earlier, he or she walked to the pulpit with fear and trembling. Now, hundreds of sermons and worship services later, when he or she walks to the pulpit for the last time as a full-time congregational pastor, he or she is filled with a different type of fear and trembling, the fear of letting go of a personal identity and theological practice that have defined her or his life for decades.
A Time for Lasts
IDEAS THAT IMPACT: TRANSITION INTO RETIREMENT
A time for lasts
In many ways a minister's retirement is the reverse image of her or his first congregational call. Decades earlier, he or she walked to the pulpit with fear and trembling. Now, hundreds of sermons and worship services later, when he or she walks to the pulpit for the last time as a full-time congregational pastor, he or she is filled with a different type of fear and trembling, the fear of letting go of a personal identity and theological practice that have defined her or his life for decades.
A Time for Lasts
A pastor contemplating retirement has a personal and professional history. In many ways a minister’s retirement is the reverse image of her or his first congregational call. Decades earlier, he or she walked to the pulpit with fear and trembling, about to preach her or his first sermon without the safety net of the seminary community or a field education supervisor. Now, hundreds of sermons and worship services later, when he or she walks to the pulpit for the last time as a full-time congregational pastor, he or she is filled with a different type of fear and trembling, the fear of letting go of a personal identity and theological practice that have defined her or his life for decades. While few pastors at retirement miss board meetings and budget sessions, the quotidian practices that structured her or his life day by day and month by month are what pastors often miss the most.
All transitions require saying goodbye, but some farewells are heart wrenching. When an elderly widow, whom a retiring pastor has visited week after week for more than a decade, asks, “Will you come back again next week to see me?” even the most self-differentiated and intentional pastor is tempted to reply, “Of course, I’ll be back next week.” When a pastor celebrates his last nursing home service and announces that he won’t be back again, the anguished looks from the residents are heartbreaking.
The caretaking and wisdom-giving void that follows these pastoral lasts is accompanied by a wide variety of feelings: For some, the feeling of relief at never having to chair another church session meeting or endure the petty conflicts of the church board triumphs over the void and its related grief. Others experience a new freedom at not having to prepare or deliver another sermon. Yet, for most pastors, the feelings of loss and ambivalence are tremendous because, despite the challenges of ministry, most pastors see a close relationship between what has been described as “soul and role.” They do not simply do ministry, they are ministers 24/7. Their vocation is a matter of character, lifestyle, and self-definition, even if they have healthy family lives, relationships outside the church, and interests outside ministry. Healthy preretirement pastors remind themselves that their choice to respond to God’s call to a lifetime of ministry has enabled God to be present in their lives and the lives of their congregants in unique and surprising ways, and they remember that God is still calling them toward faithful discipleship, albeit in yet unknown forms beyond congregational ministry.
Faith and vocation are profoundly defined and shaped by relationships. With retirement from full-time ministry, most pastors note that their relational world suddenly shrinks. Happily, phone calls no longer disturb family meals. But, sadly, days and weeks may go by without a phone call from persons who were once former colleagues or congregants. With no church office filled with congregational staff and volunteers to go to each morning, recent retirees often make visits to the coffee shop or corner restaurant to fill their days. As one suburban pastor noted, “My husband and I decided to retire in the home where we’d lived for two decades. Our children and grandchildren all lived within half an hour of home and the church we’d served for twenty years. I’m glad to be near family, but it’s painful to remain so near my old congregation. Sometimes it hurts to see former parishioners sharing lunch with the interim pastor at places that we once shared meals. As I pick up an afternoon coffee at Starbucks, I encounter my successor, former colleagues, and former parishioners, and while I’m tempted to sit down beside them, I know I have to wave and take my coffee on the road. I’ve had to let go of a congregation when I moved to another, but leaving my job and not having to go to another is heart wrenching. It’s difficult even to find a place to eat where I won’t encounter someone from the church.” With retirement from full-time congregational ministry, one pathway of life comes to an end, and developing new pathways and possibilities takes considerable effort.
The “lasts” of ministry’s winter season reminds us of the importance of work in shaping our personal identity prior to retirement and after it. According to students of the psychology of retirement, a person’s work serves a variety of psychological and structural functions in her or his life, including a sense of personal worth and accomplishment, relationships and friendships, prestige and recognition, novelty and creativity, service to the larger community, and the passing of time. From a holistic perspective on ministerial vocation in which being and doing are intimately related, the high degree of unsettledness pastors experience as they contemplate their retirement is normal, especially during the first months following their departure from full-time ministry. Even pastors well-versed in boundary training are tempted to quite innocently violate boundaries in order to hang on to some sense of their old identity. There are great temptations to drop in at the office on the way to the market or stop by the women’s or men’s fellowship group during its monthly meeting in the social hall. But after a few minutes of mutual awkwardness, the retired pastor and his former colleagues and parishioners know that it is time to go. As one recently retired United Church of Christ pastor noted, “It’s a humbling and somewhat alienating experience to know that you no longer belong in a place where you were once the center of action and the primary actor. More than that, your presence in the area may be seen by judicatory officials and the new pastor as an intrusion, undermining the authority of your successor. When judicatory officials ask how I’m doing, I feel the underlying message is ‘Are you behaving yourself? Are you staying away from the church?'”
Like a flowing stream, life goes on, and our accomplishments, at best, become the foundation upon which other pastors will build in their ministerial adventure. Even those pastors who have prepared well for retirement may experience some wistfulness as they admit that life is progressing well in the office and in the congregation now that they are gone.
“For everything there is a season.” Transformation from which new life springs is bought at the price of abandonment of old routines and letting go of old ways of self-definition. The leaves must fall from the tree to create mulch to support springtime’s renewal of life. Springtime’s new blooms eventually rise but not without the death of the old self and its habitual patterns. In such transitional moments, a pastor’s calling is to claim kairos time amid the fifty or more unstructured hours of chronos time that once defined each week’s tasks. What initially seems like a void in the few weeks following retirement may shortly thereafter become the womb of new possibilities for those who awaken to new pathways of spirituality, vocation, and relationship. What the psalmist described as numbering our days will mean embracing the joy of new adventures and new talents, rather than simply passing time in preoccupation with the past.
In Madeleine L’Engle’s A Ring of Endless Light, Grandfather Austin, a retired Episcopalian priest who is now debilitated and facing immanent death, notes that at this time of his life his vocation is simply to pray for the world. When pastors retire, they do not lose their pastoral identity or their calling to serve God, but their vocation is transformed. Their calling is to discern what new creation God is beckoning them toward now that they no longer have the role of public religious figure. Just as a person’s earlier callings have many possible shapes, so, too, God’s call in retirement encompasses many paths and possibilities in one’s particular time and place.
Comments welcome on the Alban Roundtable blog
____________________________________________
Adapted from Four Seasons of Ministry: Gathering a Harvest of Righteousness by Bruce G. Epperly and Katherine Gould Epperly, copyright © 2008 by the Alban Institute. All rights reserved.
Read more from Bruce Epperly and Katherine Gould Epperly »
Continuing the call
Our call makes life meaningful, and I believe that our calling extends into our retirement years. But people make many assumptions about what a call is, and many of those assumptions do not help us respond faithfully to our callings. Here are four assumptions that need to be challenged at the outset.
Continuing the Call
All transitions require saying goodbye, but some farewells are heart wrenching. When an elderly widow, whom a retiring pastor has visited week after week for more than a decade, asks, “Will you come back again next week to see me?” even the most self-differentiated and intentional pastor is tempted to reply, “Of course, I’ll be back next week.” When a pastor celebrates his last nursing home service and announces that he won’t be back again, the anguished looks from the residents are heartbreaking.
The caretaking and wisdom-giving void that follows these pastoral lasts is accompanied by a wide variety of feelings: For some, the feeling of relief at never having to chair another church session meeting or endure the petty conflicts of the church board triumphs over the void and its related grief. Others experience a new freedom at not having to prepare or deliver another sermon. Yet, for most pastors, the feelings of loss and ambivalence are tremendous because, despite the challenges of ministry, most pastors see a close relationship between what has been described as “soul and role.” They do not simply do ministry, they are ministers 24/7. Their vocation is a matter of character, lifestyle, and self-definition, even if they have healthy family lives, relationships outside the church, and interests outside ministry. Healthy preretirement pastors remind themselves that their choice to respond to God’s call to a lifetime of ministry has enabled God to be present in their lives and the lives of their congregants in unique and surprising ways, and they remember that God is still calling them toward faithful discipleship, albeit in yet unknown forms beyond congregational ministry.
Faith and vocation are profoundly defined and shaped by relationships. With retirement from full-time ministry, most pastors note that their relational world suddenly shrinks. Happily, phone calls no longer disturb family meals. But, sadly, days and weeks may go by without a phone call from persons who were once former colleagues or congregants. With no church office filled with congregational staff and volunteers to go to each morning, recent retirees often make visits to the coffee shop or corner restaurant to fill their days. As one suburban pastor noted, “My husband and I decided to retire in the home where we’d lived for two decades. Our children and grandchildren all lived within half an hour of home and the church we’d served for twenty years. I’m glad to be near family, but it’s painful to remain so near my old congregation. Sometimes it hurts to see former parishioners sharing lunch with the interim pastor at places that we once shared meals. As I pick up an afternoon coffee at Starbucks, I encounter my successor, former colleagues, and former parishioners, and while I’m tempted to sit down beside them, I know I have to wave and take my coffee on the road. I’ve had to let go of a congregation when I moved to another, but leaving my job and not having to go to another is heart wrenching. It’s difficult even to find a place to eat where I won’t encounter someone from the church.” With retirement from full-time congregational ministry, one pathway of life comes to an end, and developing new pathways and possibilities takes considerable effort.
The “lasts” of ministry’s winter season reminds us of the importance of work in shaping our personal identity prior to retirement and after it. According to students of the psychology of retirement, a person’s work serves a variety of psychological and structural functions in her or his life, including a sense of personal worth and accomplishment, relationships and friendships, prestige and recognition, novelty and creativity, service to the larger community, and the passing of time. From a holistic perspective on ministerial vocation in which being and doing are intimately related, the high degree of unsettledness pastors experience as they contemplate their retirement is normal, especially during the first months following their departure from full-time ministry. Even pastors well-versed in boundary training are tempted to quite innocently violate boundaries in order to hang on to some sense of their old identity. There are great temptations to drop in at the office on the way to the market or stop by the women’s or men’s fellowship group during its monthly meeting in the social hall. But after a few minutes of mutual awkwardness, the retired pastor and his former colleagues and parishioners know that it is time to go. As one recently retired United Church of Christ pastor noted, “It’s a humbling and somewhat alienating experience to know that you no longer belong in a place where you were once the center of action and the primary actor. More than that, your presence in the area may be seen by judicatory officials and the new pastor as an intrusion, undermining the authority of your successor. When judicatory officials ask how I’m doing, I feel the underlying message is ‘Are you behaving yourself? Are you staying away from the church?'”
Like a flowing stream, life goes on, and our accomplishments, at best, become the foundation upon which other pastors will build in their ministerial adventure. Even those pastors who have prepared well for retirement may experience some wistfulness as they admit that life is progressing well in the office and in the congregation now that they are gone.
“For everything there is a season.” Transformation from which new life springs is bought at the price of abandonment of old routines and letting go of old ways of self-definition. The leaves must fall from the tree to create mulch to support springtime’s renewal of life. Springtime’s new blooms eventually rise but not without the death of the old self and its habitual patterns. In such transitional moments, a pastor’s calling is to claim kairos time amid the fifty or more unstructured hours of chronos time that once defined each week’s tasks. What initially seems like a void in the few weeks following retirement may shortly thereafter become the womb of new possibilities for those who awaken to new pathways of spirituality, vocation, and relationship. What the psalmist described as numbering our days will mean embracing the joy of new adventures and new talents, rather than simply passing time in preoccupation with the past.
In Madeleine L’Engle’s A Ring of Endless Light, Grandfather Austin, a retired Episcopalian priest who is now debilitated and facing immanent death, notes that at this time of his life his vocation is simply to pray for the world. When pastors retire, they do not lose their pastoral identity or their calling to serve God, but their vocation is transformed. Their calling is to discern what new creation God is beckoning them toward now that they no longer have the role of public religious figure. Just as a person’s earlier callings have many possible shapes, so, too, God’s call in retirement encompasses many paths and possibilities in one’s particular time and place.
Comments welcome on the Alban Roundtable blog
____________________________________________
Adapted from Four Seasons of Ministry: Gathering a Harvest of Righteousness by Bruce G. Epperly and Katherine Gould Epperly, copyright © 2008 by the Alban Institute. All rights reserved.
Read more from Bruce Epperly and Katherine Gould Epperly »
Continuing the call
Our call makes life meaningful, and I believe that our calling extends into our retirement years. But people make many assumptions about what a call is, and many of those assumptions do not help us respond faithfully to our callings. Here are four assumptions that need to be challenged at the outset.
Continuing the Call
A colleague, Kim, and I fell into conversation over a cup of coffee. Kim had just retired after decades of hard work and profound growth. It had become clear in the past year that the time had come to retire. At 65, Kim’s pension was adequate, and colleagues had agreed that this was the time to step aside. The previous week, a farewell banquet had been held. “So what do I do now?” was the urgent question. “I no longer have a call from God, a meaningful vocation, an identity.”
From my viewpoint, our call makes life meaningful, and I believe that our calling extends into our retirement years. We are all called—clergy, laity, the faithful, and the people on the fringe of a religious life. But people make many assumptions about what a call is, and many of those assumptions do not help us respond faithfully to our callings. Here are four assumptions that need to be challenged at the outset.
Assumption 1
To be called is to be employed. Many are called to be pastors, firefighters, business executives, or plumbers. That is why Kim was so concerned: if there was no job, there would be no calling. Discerning our call in retirement is not a job-placement process. Although we are called to an occupation, our calling is larger than a job. The word “vocation” comes from the Latin vocare, which in Latin means “to call.” In the New Testament, Jesus called his disciples to follow. He promised no employment, no occupation, no clear task; they were invited simply to be disciples, learners. Over the centuries the meaning of the word “vocation” changed. The church linked the calling of the disciples to the role of clergy, to the extent that eventually the only people who were understood to be called were ordained people. The original meaning of the word “vocation” was changed by common usage over the years so that most people came to equate “calling” with “employment.” “Don’t worry, Kim,” is my advice. “Look for the original meaning of the phrase ‘called by God.’” To be called is to follow in the way, not to have a specific profession.
Assumption 2
To be called is to have had a spiritual experience. While it is often true that a calling involves a spiritual experience, two underlying assumptions need to be addressed. First, if we are called, does that mean we have heard the voice of God Almighty? Perhaps, but it might also be that God called us as he called the Twelve: through the voice of Jesus the carpenter. Many are called by God’s speaking through an aunt, a teacher, a pastor, a friend, or a parent. Second, if we are called, does that mean God is now in charge of our lives? God is God. But that doesn’t mean we are puppets at the end of a string. God created the world and calls us to follow by empowering us to make choices, to envision goals, and to take responsibility for our actions.
Assumption 3
To be called is to have one single direction in life. Many people feel locked for life into one task. But the disciples were called first to be followers and learners. Then, with the death and resurrection of Christ, they were to be leaders, healers, the embodiment of Christ himself. Although some encountered the risen Christ again before their change from disciple to apostle, even then it is clear that the original call to follow was part of the subsequent call to lead. Within our calling is the requirement to be open to change.
Assumption 4
To be called is to have a God-given map of life’s journey. Not only do we who are called need to be flexible; we need also to be able to grope our way through chaos with no guide. Look at the book of Acts. The apostles had no advance notice of what was to happen next. Like us, they stumbled along, praying to God that they were going the right way. “Praying to God” is the point here. Being called meant that they had to stay tuned to the Spirit’s leading; they had to be tuned to prayer as Jesus had been, day by day.
A New Definition of Calling
Three components are included in our calling: our identity; our gifts; and our occupation.
Identity
Our identity is a set of characteristics that make us recognizable, by which we are known, that make us unique. Each of us is recognized by our uniqueness and by our link to family, region, ethnicity, and nationality. Our identity—the way we answer the question “Who am I?”—is part of our calling. Our identity is a significant part of what we have to offer. Our identity is shaped by our life experiences. Characteristics of our identity change as we mature. Amid our growing, developing, and shifting, however, we maintain a stable personality. God called Jeremiah, saying, “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations” (Jer. 1:5). Our calling includes the whole of life, all that we have been, all that we are, all that we will become.
Gifts
By gift, I mean a talent, an endowment, an aptitude, or a natural ability. These capabilities are bestowed upon us by God, and no compensation is expected from us. Even if we ignore the gift, it is still there and often comes alive much later in our lives. The link between identity and gift is clear. Both are bestowed upon us by God’s grace; both grow and develop; both are ingredients of our calling. But they are also distinct from each other. Identity is that which makes one recognizable as a unique person and as one who shares a common heritage with a larger community. Our gift is the talent, aptitude, or ability that was bestowed upon us from the beginning and in the course of life. Thanks be to God for both identity and gifts!
Occupation
Occupation has several definitions. We occupy a dwelling, a residence, a workplace. “To occupy” is also to seize control, to maintain the land. Still again, one can occupy an office or position. All these definitions focus on place. Our calling is also about a place in the world—not in the geographical but in the theological sense of the word. God makes room for us on the ground, a place for us in history, a role for us in the community. Our occupation might include several places, churches, positions, or careers, from childhood through retirement. Our occupation might evolve from student, to employee, to parent, to volunteer. Our call might include two or more occupations at the same time. The call is not to a specific occupation but to a pilgrimage in which one venture may lead to another.
An Authentic Calling
Identity, giftedness, and occupation are ingredients of a calling. But how do we know when a call is really of God and not something we created on our own? The call of God is always consistent with God’s saving purpose. Is this an authentic call? If this pilgrimage means that we are to share in the saving work of God that began with Noah, that we are to share in the saving work of Christ described in the New Testament, then the call is authentic indeed. The distinctive mark of a calling is not the nature of the work but the purpose of the worker.
The most remarkable sentence in the Bible is found in the Genesis story of Abraham and Sarah. God called Abram to go from Haran “to a land that I will show you.” I’ve been to Haran. It was a terrifying move God was asking of Abram and Sarai. The ruins indicate that Haran was a large and sophisticated city on the edge of a desert. God’s call to Abram and Sarai went against their identity as a wealthy urban couple. That call to a new occupation in an unknown place was outrageous. That call to live a gypsy life in the desert was unthinkable.
Abraham and Sarah were the first people to understand that there was one God; they were the first to be called by this God, called to be a blessing to all the families of the earth. Abraham and Sarah represent a new beginning for all of us in the traditions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. We are indeed blessed by those first pioneers. In a sense our call is part of their call, to go “to the land that I will show you” (Gen. 12:1). The most remarkable sentence in the Bible begins this way, “So Abram
went . . .” (Gen. 12:4). As a result, we are all blessed and called to be a blessing.
Adapted from Called for Life: Finding Meaning in Retirement, copyright © 2008 by the Alban Institute. All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2008, the Alban Institute. All rights reserved. We encourage you to share Alban Weekly articles with your congregation. We gladly allow permission to reprint articles from the Alban Weekly for one-time use by congregations and their leaders when the material is offered free of charge. All we ask is that you write to us at alban@div.duke.edu and let us know how Alban Weekly is making an impact in your congregation. If you would like to use any other Alban material, or if your intended use of Alban Weekly does not fall within this scope, please submit our reprint permission request form.
Read more from Paul Clayton »
Coming full circle: Starting over at retirement
Retirement is a season that differs from all others. In this season we are free to determine both the pace of life and many of its dimensions. Now-retired pastor Al Bamsey says that he feels a bit like he did when he first started out as a pastor -- he's a novice at this "retirement thing."
Coming Full Circle: Starting Over at Retirement
For a number of months I wondered how I would know when it was time to retire. I took a couple of months off two summers before I did retire, hoping that an extended vacation and time for reflection would bring clarity. But no such luck. I went back to work refreshed, with my question unanswered.From my viewpoint, our call makes life meaningful, and I believe that our calling extends into our retirement years. We are all called—clergy, laity, the faithful, and the people on the fringe of a religious life. But people make many assumptions about what a call is, and many of those assumptions do not help us respond faithfully to our callings. Here are four assumptions that need to be challenged at the outset.
Assumption 1
To be called is to be employed. Many are called to be pastors, firefighters, business executives, or plumbers. That is why Kim was so concerned: if there was no job, there would be no calling. Discerning our call in retirement is not a job-placement process. Although we are called to an occupation, our calling is larger than a job. The word “vocation” comes from the Latin vocare, which in Latin means “to call.” In the New Testament, Jesus called his disciples to follow. He promised no employment, no occupation, no clear task; they were invited simply to be disciples, learners. Over the centuries the meaning of the word “vocation” changed. The church linked the calling of the disciples to the role of clergy, to the extent that eventually the only people who were understood to be called were ordained people. The original meaning of the word “vocation” was changed by common usage over the years so that most people came to equate “calling” with “employment.” “Don’t worry, Kim,” is my advice. “Look for the original meaning of the phrase ‘called by God.’” To be called is to follow in the way, not to have a specific profession.
Assumption 2
To be called is to have had a spiritual experience. While it is often true that a calling involves a spiritual experience, two underlying assumptions need to be addressed. First, if we are called, does that mean we have heard the voice of God Almighty? Perhaps, but it might also be that God called us as he called the Twelve: through the voice of Jesus the carpenter. Many are called by God’s speaking through an aunt, a teacher, a pastor, a friend, or a parent. Second, if we are called, does that mean God is now in charge of our lives? God is God. But that doesn’t mean we are puppets at the end of a string. God created the world and calls us to follow by empowering us to make choices, to envision goals, and to take responsibility for our actions.
Assumption 3
To be called is to have one single direction in life. Many people feel locked for life into one task. But the disciples were called first to be followers and learners. Then, with the death and resurrection of Christ, they were to be leaders, healers, the embodiment of Christ himself. Although some encountered the risen Christ again before their change from disciple to apostle, even then it is clear that the original call to follow was part of the subsequent call to lead. Within our calling is the requirement to be open to change.
Assumption 4
To be called is to have a God-given map of life’s journey. Not only do we who are called need to be flexible; we need also to be able to grope our way through chaos with no guide. Look at the book of Acts. The apostles had no advance notice of what was to happen next. Like us, they stumbled along, praying to God that they were going the right way. “Praying to God” is the point here. Being called meant that they had to stay tuned to the Spirit’s leading; they had to be tuned to prayer as Jesus had been, day by day.
A New Definition of Calling
Three components are included in our calling: our identity; our gifts; and our occupation.
Identity
Our identity is a set of characteristics that make us recognizable, by which we are known, that make us unique. Each of us is recognized by our uniqueness and by our link to family, region, ethnicity, and nationality. Our identity—the way we answer the question “Who am I?”—is part of our calling. Our identity is a significant part of what we have to offer. Our identity is shaped by our life experiences. Characteristics of our identity change as we mature. Amid our growing, developing, and shifting, however, we maintain a stable personality. God called Jeremiah, saying, “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations” (Jer. 1:5). Our calling includes the whole of life, all that we have been, all that we are, all that we will become.
Gifts
By gift, I mean a talent, an endowment, an aptitude, or a natural ability. These capabilities are bestowed upon us by God, and no compensation is expected from us. Even if we ignore the gift, it is still there and often comes alive much later in our lives. The link between identity and gift is clear. Both are bestowed upon us by God’s grace; both grow and develop; both are ingredients of our calling. But they are also distinct from each other. Identity is that which makes one recognizable as a unique person and as one who shares a common heritage with a larger community. Our gift is the talent, aptitude, or ability that was bestowed upon us from the beginning and in the course of life. Thanks be to God for both identity and gifts!
Occupation
Occupation has several definitions. We occupy a dwelling, a residence, a workplace. “To occupy” is also to seize control, to maintain the land. Still again, one can occupy an office or position. All these definitions focus on place. Our calling is also about a place in the world—not in the geographical but in the theological sense of the word. God makes room for us on the ground, a place for us in history, a role for us in the community. Our occupation might include several places, churches, positions, or careers, from childhood through retirement. Our occupation might evolve from student, to employee, to parent, to volunteer. Our call might include two or more occupations at the same time. The call is not to a specific occupation but to a pilgrimage in which one venture may lead to another.
An Authentic Calling
Identity, giftedness, and occupation are ingredients of a calling. But how do we know when a call is really of God and not something we created on our own? The call of God is always consistent with God’s saving purpose. Is this an authentic call? If this pilgrimage means that we are to share in the saving work of God that began with Noah, that we are to share in the saving work of Christ described in the New Testament, then the call is authentic indeed. The distinctive mark of a calling is not the nature of the work but the purpose of the worker.
The most remarkable sentence in the Bible is found in the Genesis story of Abraham and Sarah. God called Abram to go from Haran “to a land that I will show you.” I’ve been to Haran. It was a terrifying move God was asking of Abram and Sarai. The ruins indicate that Haran was a large and sophisticated city on the edge of a desert. God’s call to Abram and Sarai went against their identity as a wealthy urban couple. That call to a new occupation in an unknown place was outrageous. That call to live a gypsy life in the desert was unthinkable.
Abraham and Sarah were the first people to understand that there was one God; they were the first to be called by this God, called to be a blessing to all the families of the earth. Abraham and Sarah represent a new beginning for all of us in the traditions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. We are indeed blessed by those first pioneers. In a sense our call is part of their call, to go “to the land that I will show you” (Gen. 12:1). The most remarkable sentence in the Bible begins this way, “So Abram
went . . .” (Gen. 12:4). As a result, we are all blessed and called to be a blessing.
Adapted from Called for Life: Finding Meaning in Retirement, copyright © 2008 by the Alban Institute. All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2008, the Alban Institute. All rights reserved. We encourage you to share Alban Weekly articles with your congregation. We gladly allow permission to reprint articles from the Alban Weekly for one-time use by congregations and their leaders when the material is offered free of charge. All we ask is that you write to us at alban@div.duke.edu and let us know how Alban Weekly is making an impact in your congregation. If you would like to use any other Alban material, or if your intended use of Alban Weekly does not fall within this scope, please submit our reprint permission request form.
Read more from Paul Clayton »
Coming full circle: Starting over at retirement
Retirement is a season that differs from all others. In this season we are free to determine both the pace of life and many of its dimensions. Now-retired pastor Al Bamsey says that he feels a bit like he did when he first started out as a pastor -- he's a novice at this "retirement thing."
Coming Full Circle: Starting Over at Retirement
Then one day the following spring, I awoke knowing that it was time. I had only a couple of clues. One was the recognition that I had become restless about meetings. There is a gestation period for new ideas to take hold in churches, and my patience was wearing thin at the long wait from conception to acceptance. I also found myself feeling angry at small things that happened or did not—something so unlike me that I knew it was time.
But then retirement angst set in. What would I do with all the unstructured time? And what would I do for the daily interaction that was a staple of church life? Wouldn’t I miss the joy of preparing sermons and preaching them? There were also other big questions: Where would we live? How would we buy a house? And would my retirement income be adequate for the lifestyle that we had created for ourselves?
Finding My Way
Because I gave myself 15 months until retirement was to begin, I approached the process in a way that is typical for me. I addressed issues that could be dealt with ahead of time. My wife and I decided to buy a house in the town where I had pastored for 10 years, even though it would mean having to find a new place to worship. Then I called my friends at the Alban Institute, which has for many years provided consulting and educational services for pastors and local churches. I had once done some consulting for them—and wondered if they might be interested in having me do some part-time work again. Fortunately, Alban was glad to have me back. That settled two of my worries: I would have remuneration to supplement my retirement benefits, and I now had some structured time.
But I wasn’t prepared for the changes that were related to my personal identity. Who would I be if not a pastor? With retirement I no longer had a meaningful title. Outside church circles it made no difference that I was a clergyperson. In retirement there were no daily reminders that my words and behavior counted in any venue beyond my family and friends.
Even attending church brought unexpected reactions. Early on I found myself crying as I sang one of the great hymns. When I heard others preach I found myself wishing that I could preach again. I even had feelings of surprise as I observed from the pew. I would marvel at the importance of some rituals and say to myself, “So that’s why people attend church.”
I sometimes had notions of serving as a pastor again, but not in a church. I imagined starting a small congregation in my own living room when I heard pastors peddling what I considered to be shallow or wrong. I reminded myself that other pastors were doing their best, but it has been tough to endure what I have perceived as mediocrity and emptiness in some churches.
My first year of retirement was full of new discoveries as well. I spent time in hardware and home maintenance stores learning how to care for a new home. I took an art class to reclaim an interest that had lagged after college, and I attended free afternoon lectures and made impromptu trips to the movies. I discovered that I really liked grandchildren—and that I still had a zest for golf. And I could read all of The New York Times every day, a treat for a newspaper junkie like me.
In the fall the practice of consulting took hold. I liked the slow feel of it, which was akin to walking gingerly into a spring-fed lake on a nippy morning. I reluctantly said yes when my bishop called to ask if I would take on the job of interim conference director for five months. I knew that this would structure too much of my time, but it would be for a short period, and then my life could return to its new, slower pace.
That interim period has passed, and life has slowed somewhat. But the consulting has grown, and much of it is in areas that were not central to my prior expertise—requiring more “prep” time than I had anticipated. As I write this I am still sorting through how much I want to work or explore other venues. I question how well I am using my free time as I continue to search for meaningful “work” and an adequate number of friends to share time with. And I have not yet made the fundamental choices that will define the next 5, 10, or 20 years of my life. Recently I noted inwardly that not until the tragedies of September 11 did I, for the first time since retiring, feel that I should be serving as pastor of a church. For a week I felt intensely that I should—but the urgency lasted for only a week.
Other Pathways to Retirement
I recently spoke with three colleagues, who retired a year or two ahead of me, to compare our experiences. None of them has sought out formal ministry in retirement, though one briefly served as an interim district superintendent. All three cut their professional ties, and only one is now exploring options in that arena by looking at publishing a book that he wrote while working as a staffer for an annual conference.
These three pastors retired for common reasons. Each sensed that he was physically tired of full-time pastoring. Two retired, in part, because they felt that their churches needed leadership styles that were different from the ones they knew. None of them regrets his years of ministry. All three are financially secure. They miss regular interaction with the people that pastoral ministry afforded—but they do not miss the interminable meetings. And like my wife and I, two of them continue to struggle in their search for a meaningful faith community. All three rejoice in the freedom to shape their daily lives, and all now pay more attention to health concerns than ever before.
Finding One’s Pace—or God’s Grace?
These three retirees’ lack of interest in doing ministry caused me to wonder if I was odd and insecure in the freedom that retirement brings. Unlike them, did I have a need to hold on to some kind of structured ministry? I do fear that if I give up work my mind will atrophy and I will become irrelevant. By turns I feel glad to have some schedule and focus for my life—but then feel anxious about my unwillingness to allow God’s grace to direct my life.
I am glad not to be pastoring any more. But I want to share in the wisdom that comes from interacting with pastors and church leaders who are striving to lead meaningful lives in local congregations. I also relish time with my children and grandchildren, look forward to more travel when my spouse retires, and hope to deepen friendships that have developed along the way.
Retirement is a season that differs from all others. In this season we are free to determine both the pace of life and many of its dimensions. And for now I feel a bit like I did when I first started out as a pastor. I am a novice with a lot to learn. But I needed the change—and I am glad I retired.
Read more from Al Bamsey »
CONTINUE YOUR LEARNING: UPCOMING WEBINAR
WRITING FROM YOUR LIFE OF FAITH
A Webinar from Leadership Education at Duke Divinity
March 29 | 1 - 2 p.m. EDT
This one-hour webinar will give you the skills you need to write a theologically rich personal essay. Our focus will be on writing an essay of 800 to 1,000 words aimed at an audience of Christians who are theologically curious but not necessarily theologically educated. The session will teach you how to sharpen the focus of your writing; develop a personal voice and present your work professionally for publication.
Instructor Sally Hicks is the editor of Faith & Leadership, the award-winning online magazine published by Leadership Education at Duke Divinity. Before that, she was a senior writer in Duke University's Office of News & Communications as well as a reporter, writer, editorial writer and editor for several newspapers. Hicks also has published personal essays and is currently a student in the certificate program at Duke's Center for Documentary Studies.
Learn more and register »
Develop leaders with a $50,000 grant
Leadership Development Grants from Leadership Education at Duke Divinity nurture an institution's strengths and cultivate innovative leadership development practices. Apply by March 31, 2017, for up to $50,000 to fund a yearlong project to develop your staff and volunteers.
Learn more and apply
THE CHURCH AND MENTAL HEALTH:
The Reimagining Health Collaborative at Duke Divinity School
Do you feel called to work for the health and wellness of your community? Does your church have health ministries in place, but long to do more? Does your church want to work with other congregations and organizations to develop theologically-based wellness programs in your community?
The Reimagining Health Collaborative invites churches and Christian communities to engage more fully in God's healing and restoring work through innovative and faithful practices of health and health care. This year's cohort will focus on the church and mental health.
Approximately 45% of Americans will develop some form of mental illness - especially depression, anxiety, and substance use. Suicide is a leading cause of death among adolescents and adults. Living with mental illness, particularly serious mental illnesses like schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, is filled with both challenges and opportunities. The church must be equipped and energized to respond faithfully.
Your congregation is a great fit for RHC 2017: The Church and Mental Health if:
Your congregation feels called to learn from and to walk faithfully with persons with mental illness in your congregation and community.
Your congregation wants to explore and discover new models of ministry, and develop a lasting relationship with another organization within your community.
You believe God is at work healing and restoring the world in Jesus Christ, and want to participate in this healing work.
To learn more, please see the program page. Applications must be submitted to DukeTMC@div.duke.edu by April 15th, 2017.
FROM THE ALBAN LIBRARY
Called for Life: Finding Meaning in Retirementby Paul C. Clayton
This book reflects on our calling to serve God and neighbor in the context of retirement. People facing retirement ask a variety of questions, each framed by a different perspective. "Will I ever be interested in retiring?" some baby boomers ask. "Who am I now?" newly retired clergy ask. "What, if anything, is God calling me to do and be after retirement?" all inquire. This book is built on the assumption that most people don't want to spend the last third of their lives doing nothing. What they want is a life that is worth living, an occupation that will help others, and a retirement in which they can continue to exercise their calling. Clayton uses examples from his own experience and from others, laity and clergy, to explore retirement and the three components of our calling: our identity, our gifts, and our occupation. He also examines the role of community in our calling and retirement, the challenges of the transition into retirement, options for meaningful activity, the importance of identifying our purpose, doing and being in retirement, and the final call to death. Readers will be encouraged to see retirement as an opportunity to do what they have always wanted to do and to become the kind of person they have wanted to be.
Learn more and order the book »
CONTINUE YOUR LEARNING: UPCOMING WEBINAR
WRITING FROM YOUR LIFE OF FAITHA Webinar from Leadership Education at Duke Divinity
March 29 | 1 - 2 p.m. EDT
This one-hour webinar will give you the skills you need to write a theologically rich personal essay. Our focus will be on writing an essay of 800 to 1,000 words aimed at an audience of Christians who are theologically curious but not necessarily theologically educated. The session will teach you how to sharpen the focus of your writing; develop a personal voice and present your work professionally for publication.
Instructor Sally Hicks is the editor of Faith & Leadership, the award-winning online magazine published by Leadership Education at Duke Divinity. Before that, she was a senior writer in Duke University's Office of News & Communications as well as a reporter, writer, editorial writer and editor for several newspapers. Hicks also has published personal essays and is currently a student in the certificate program at Duke's Center for Documentary Studies.
Learn more and register »
Develop leaders with a $50,000 grantLeadership Development Grants from Leadership Education at Duke Divinity nurture an institution's strengths and cultivate innovative leadership development practices. Apply by March 31, 2017, for up to $50,000 to fund a yearlong project to develop your staff and volunteers.
Learn more and apply
THE CHURCH AND MENTAL HEALTH:
The Reimagining Health Collaborative at Duke Divinity School
Do you feel called to work for the health and wellness of your community? Does your church have health ministries in place, but long to do more? Does your church want to work with other congregations and organizations to develop theologically-based wellness programs in your community?
The Reimagining Health Collaborative invites churches and Christian communities to engage more fully in God's healing and restoring work through innovative and faithful practices of health and health care. This year's cohort will focus on the church and mental health.
Approximately 45% of Americans will develop some form of mental illness - especially depression, anxiety, and substance use. Suicide is a leading cause of death among adolescents and adults. Living with mental illness, particularly serious mental illnesses like schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, is filled with both challenges and opportunities. The church must be equipped and energized to respond faithfully.
Your congregation is a great fit for RHC 2017: The Church and Mental Health if:
Your congregation feels called to learn from and to walk faithfully with persons with mental illness in your congregation and community.
Your congregation wants to explore and discover new models of ministry, and develop a lasting relationship with another organization within your community.
You believe God is at work healing and restoring the world in Jesus Christ, and want to participate in this healing work.
To learn more, please see the program page. Applications must be submitted to DukeTMC@div.duke.edu by April 15th, 2017.
FROM THE ALBAN LIBRARY
Called for Life: Finding Meaning in Retirementby Paul C. ClaytonThis book reflects on our calling to serve God and neighbor in the context of retirement. People facing retirement ask a variety of questions, each framed by a different perspective. "Will I ever be interested in retiring?" some baby boomers ask. "Who am I now?" newly retired clergy ask. "What, if anything, is God calling me to do and be after retirement?" all inquire. This book is built on the assumption that most people don't want to spend the last third of their lives doing nothing. What they want is a life that is worth living, an occupation that will help others, and a retirement in which they can continue to exercise their calling. Clayton uses examples from his own experience and from others, laity and clergy, to explore retirement and the three components of our calling: our identity, our gifts, and our occupation. He also examines the role of community in our calling and retirement, the challenges of the transition into retirement, options for meaningful activity, the importance of identifying our purpose, doing and being in retirement, and the final call to death. Readers will be encouraged to see retirement as an opportunity to do what they have always wanted to do and to become the kind of person they have wanted to be.
Learn more and order the book »
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Alban at Duke Divinity School
1121 West Chapel Hill Street, Suite 101
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VISIT OUR WEBSITE
Alban at Duke Divinity School
1121 West Chapel Hill Street, Suite 101
Durham, North Carolina 27701, United States
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