Out of Place

I feel out of place. I’m not where I should be.

Each year for the past 14 years I have gathered in Medora with all the pastors, deacons, and synodically-authorized ministers (known as rostered leaders) from the Western North Dakota Synod for a three-day retreat.

Because pastors are creatures of habit and this retreat has been around a long time, I can tell you precisely where I would be at this early hour in Medora: the Little Missouri Saloon. Before you assume we begin the day in the bar, hear me out. Each Monday morning, a couple dozen people meet at the saloon not to wait for the doors to open, but for the fun 5K to begin! There is a chill in the air as people bounce around to stay warm, or drag their feet wondering why they abandoned their cozy beds. (There are a few who may have left that very saloon not too many hours before.)

We meet annually in Medora to worship, learn something new, complain when the Roughrider Hotel can’t keep up with our unreasonable demands for coffee, and most importantly to sit at circle tables together.

And so we have arrived at my out-of-place feeling. I’m not going to sit at a circle table today. If I run out of coffee it’s my own dang fault. And I won’t sit in a pub with some of my favorite people later this evening.

This year, some rostered leaders are in Medora and some of us will Zoom in. From my home, I will join colleagues from my desk and not a table where the shape tells the story of what we’re doing. We are part of this never-ending work to tell an old, old story of God gathering ordinary people. The work goes on and on from generation to generation with no end in sight. None of us will complete the work of proclaiming hope, but we will continue it. We will push through political divisions under the leadership of a narcissistic and vainglorious president. We will cry for justice when people are dehumanized simply for being black and Native American. We will not stop believing God gathers us to do something about the unjust lives of the poor.

Bishop Craig Schweitzer preached last night about our time before Covid, during Covid, and at some point after Covid. It was an encouraging proclamation that we are not stuck for ever in the during part of Covid. There was a time before and of course the circle of time will continue and we will find ourselves on the other side, persisting in the same work.

Although I won’t be at a circle table with them, I give thanks for my colleagues today. I wish we were all in Medora (and so does the Little Missouri Saloon), but more importantly, I know we will gather there again because circles have no end.