Pastor Appreciation Month
Since October is Pastor Appreciation Month, I thought I would spend just a few moments in gratitude, reflecting on a few of the ministers who have greatly influenced my life. God could not have given me better ministers to shepherd me through adolescence than the ones I grew up with at Bedford Presbyterian Church.
Joseph Gaston was our Pastor/Head of Staff. Joseph calls himself the “farm boy pastor” and that fits him just about perfectly. With his South Carolina drawl he taught me from an early age the importance of humor and laughter from the pulpit and in ministry. He also taught me the vital role of presence in difficult moments. He and his wife Karen woke up and drove to Roanoke in the middle of the night to sit with my family after my parents’ car accident. A lot of that night is a blur, but their solid strength remains crystal clear.
Bill Buchanan was our Associate Pastor, and he oversaw our youth ministry program. Bill taught me that you’re never too young to use your gifts to serve the Lord. He had an incredible way of recognizing each person’s gifts and finding a way for them to use it at church. He baptized me, introduced me to Montreat, and trusted me with his children. He taught me that the way you walk in your daily life is your witness to Jesus. And ministry is just about loving people and meeting them where they are.
Bill’s wife Aimee was…well…incredible. That word doesn’t even do her justice. She invited me to a girl’s teen bible study in her home (which they opened often to us) and the personal note is what made me feel welcome. Aimee sought justice for all people, and she wasn’t afraid to be in the trenches with them. In church, she and Bill encouraged creativity and gave us space to lead worship. Even when she wasn’t on staff at our church, she was often in various leadership roles. And she wasn’t afraid to be in the pulpit with a Bible in one hand, and one of her children on her hip. Illuminating that it is in fact possible to be both pastor and mother.
Kevin Brunk came to BPC after Bill and Aimee moved to Asheville, he was the Associate Pastor while I was in college. Kevin had a very unique youth group which at its core was all boys with maybe one or two girls (who held their own with the best of them). I remember a lock-in where I served as a chaperone, and he stayed up half the night playing video games with them. Kevin was humble and loving in every encounter. He could be silly and turn serious on a dime, which is what those boys needed. This served me well when I was involved in youth ministry in Richmond. I never understood when I was young and Kevin told me after Sunday worship he went home and crashed, he was just so drained after Sunday worship. Now, I get it. Sorry, I doubted you, Kevin!
And I must tell you about Brenda Halbrooks. Brenda was the pastor at Three Chopt Presbyterian in Richmond where I served during seminary. Brenda was the first pastor I had watched preaching in a church setting without a manuscript. What on earth!? She would write little sermon points on her fingers. Brenda also led with humor, and once called my office in Appomattox shortly after I arrived pretending to be asking for outrageous financial assistance. Unfortunately for her, I knew the number on the caller ID. Brenda was a steady voice of guidance to the church in those years. I don’t remember ever seeing her feathers ruffled. She was always calm and not afraid to say, ‘let’s revisit this later.’ Brenda was the same pastor whether she was participating in the Women’s Bible Study, moderating a session meeting, or chaperoning teenagers on a retreat. She loved us well.
I would be remiss not to mention my father-in-law Bass Mitchell in this list. Michael likes to remind me how thankful he is that his dad now has someone with whom he can share his craft. The most important thing I’ve learned from “Papa Bass” is the power of simple, authentic delivery—whether that be in sermons or pastoral interactions. People don’t need flowery words, and they don’t need perfection, they just need to see your honesty and your integrity. The Bass that might hold your hand as you take your last breath is the same Bass that gives kids high fives as he walks down the aisle before church. The same Bass who now teaches inmates classes to get their GED in his “retirement.”
Without these individuals (and many others) I would not be where I am today. I wouldn’t have this same appreciation for intergenerational or rural ministry. I wouldn’t know the power of self-deprecating humor to the same extent. I might not have witnessed pastors striving to create healthy patterns and sabbath. It might not have occurred to me to let kids be kids in the pews or allow teenagers to have a voice in all aspects of church life. I may not have recognized that the church isn’t the walls, it’s the people. I wouldn’t have believed “church” can look like serving popsicles to the homeless on hot days and playing board games with veterans. And I probably wouldn’t have been brave enough to write skits for Youth Sunday sermons or read my poetry on the Montreat auditorium stage in front of a thousand peers. It is quite possible that I would never have considered ministry at all. God is, indeed, good.