Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
There’s a saying, “If you want to make God laugh, tell her your plans.” And if anyone knows how true that is, it’s me. I went to school at ETSU hoping to become a professional musician, and then, in my final year, I converted to Christianity, got involved in campus ministry, with UKirk, and even preached for the very first time right here in this church in this very pulpit. I decided to go to seminary school, and I thought that I’d like to be a chaplain. I felt, too, that as a Catholic, God was also calling me into ordained ministry, to the priesthood. What some of you may not know, is that I worked very briefly in a church before this one. My five year plan, and ten year plan, was to work in an independent Catholic Church in Philadelphia, become an assistant priest and then a parish priest and take over the church when the current parish priest retired. I quit my job, let go of the lease on my apartment, said goodbye to my friends and family and moved to Philadelphia. Right now, I think back to my first two weeks there, and about the first person at that church who showed me genuine kindness, the music minister, Charlie. If you were present for my diaconate ordination, you may have seen our picture together on the organ. One of the first conversations we had took place over breakfast and coffee, and it was like a meeting of two old friends. It was “an answered prayer” as I described it in a journal entry describing that day. He said me during that conversation, “So, tell me about your goals. What are your dreams?” I told him, “Well, my dream is to become a priest. Maybe to be a chaplain someday, too, and maybe in Chicago. It’s like a second home to me.” Charlie smiled. “I think that’s a wonderful dream. And I know in my heart that you’ll make it.” As simple of a dream as it was, even at the time, it felt like a pretty lofty goal. Long story short, I obviously did not last five years in that church, let alone ten. I didn’t even last five months.
I think that I speak for a lot of people in this room when I say that sometimes churches are places of hurt, instead of hope. They shouldn’t be, but sometimes they are.
And making the choice to leave was the hardest decision I ever had to make. In my mind, I believed that my life was over. Leaving that church meant I had to start over completely, which is exactly what I did. And it was the biggest leap of faith I’ve ever dared to take.
When left I had very little hope left in those dreams at all. I was a full year behind in school, I had to move back in with my parents, I had no job, no money, no connections, no plan, no future, it seemed, and debilitating health issues. I was told by some very powerful and scary people that I would never become a priest. For a long time, it seemed that that church had succeeded in stealing my dignity, my health, my self-esteem, my sense of self, my trust in the Church, and my full faith and confidence in God. After I left, I did the only thing I could do, which was stay the course, keep going, and hope and pray and trust, that even though I didn’t know where I was going, what I was doing, and had no idea what would happen, that God was still here, still with me every step of the way. I would wake up in the morning and say, “Here I am, Lord. I’m still here, if you are. Now what?”
And God said, “I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
Yeah, well. Easy for you to say.
And although it was hard, and it was, it really, really, was, and still is, I kept my faith. I kept the light, kept it shining. My faith was the light I needed when I couldn’t see the way out of the darkness. As you heard in your readings this morning, Faith is confidence in what we hope for and reassurance in what we do not see.
I waited a full year before I decided that it was time to try again. Which was easier said than done. As I’m sure you all know, There are painfully few churches within 50 miles of here who would take in a gay, transgender, Catholic, let alone pay him money and let him preach. So, Whether it was by pure coincidence or divine intervention, I found myself in this church, in the same exact place that I started my journey 7 years ago. 7 years ago! Think about that for a second. I came here, thinking I would find a short-term, four month ministry placement where I could serve others, get some good experience, learn a few things, and hopefully survive. But, what I never expected was to find a church I could call a home. What I didn’t expect was to be so incredibly blessed to be here.
Now, this isn’t one of those sermons where I tell you that “God has a plan, just be patient, everything happens for a reason,” and other platitudes that some pastors like to give.
It wasn’t part of God’s plan, but it did serve a purpose. God never plans for any of us to get hurt, but he does have a plan for what happens when we do. As it says in Genesis 50:20, “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today.”
So, while I would have never chosen to go through what I went through, I wouldn’t give it up for the world. Had I not “failed,” had I not left that church, had I not “given up” on my dreams, let go and trusted that God would lead me to something better, I wouldn’t be here today. I would have missed out on the abundance of blessings both present and future. I wouldn’t be able to stand here and say that in less than two months from now, two years to the exact day that I started at the church, that I will be ordained as a priest on my own terms, that as of last week, I’ve accepted a job offer as a chaplain at the University of Illinois, Chicago and this will be my last time preaching in front of you all.
All of this to say, don’t try to force your blessings. Anything that God has meant for you will happen in due time. Be patient, be still, let go of your attachments to the things you think you need to be happy, and you’ll find an abundance of unexpected blessings.
I hope that I have been a blessing to you, as you all have certainly been a blessing to me. And until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of her hands.
Our Lady of Light 