My 20th college reunion is coming up in June. Reunions often cause a flood of memories and a reason for reflection on one’s life. For me, the first thoughts are of the very superficial: yes, I’m a lot bigger now than I was then. Alas. But, then, thoughts turn to all the things that have happened in my life in the past twenty years.

One of my most prominent memories of my graduation from Colby College is actually from the day after graduation. I was stretched out on a lawn chair in the backyard of my parents’ house—without the faintest notion of what I was going to do with my life. I had been so focused on graduating that I failed to consider the aftermath. I remember thinking that I had never had such an experience. When I was in high school, I was determined to get into a good college. When I was in college, I focused on graduating. Once I graduated, I found myself without a goal and I remember how unsettling that experience was.

So, I focused at first on my most immediate needs. I knew that I would need to make some money, so I called the restaurant where I had waited on tables during my college summers, Hilltop Steak House (maybe some of you have been there; it’s the big restaurant on Route 1 in Saugus, Mass. with all of the plastic cows out front). As summer moved into fall and I was still working there, some of the long-time waitresses started to get on my case. They were concerned that I would get trapped by the lure of the steady stream of tips and that I wouldn’t make something with my life. And, then my college advisor got in touch with me, also expressing concern that I was still waiting on tables. Like the waitresses, he too offered his unsolicited advice. “Go and DO something,” he told me. And then he added, “If it doesn’t work out, go DO something else.”

So, I tried a few things, all of which did not “work out,” until I finally came to grips with that lingering voice in the back of my head. After three years out of college, I finally enrolled in divinity school. It was a big leap of faith, but one that I am so grateful that I took.
The road since then has been anything but smooth and predictable, but it has been rewarding. And, perhaps, that is one of the significant lessons of our reflections when we face a reunion. So many of the most rewarding aspects of life begin with taking a risk, taking a leap of faith.

The last time I took a leap of faith was on March 12, 2006. I suspect it was the last time that Old South took a leap as well. It was the day of my candidate sermon and the vote of the congregation to call me as Old South’s settled pastor.

Now, I’m looking forward to our next great leap of faith together. I hope you are too.
I’m not sure when or where it will happen, but I am sure that it will. I’m also sure that there may be some missteps along the way, places where our risk-taking doesn’t “work out.” But, even there, the advice of my college professor is still helpful: “If it doesn’t work, go do something else.”

May we be so bold in our faith that we continue to take great leaps of faith, to resist the temptation of sticking with the comfortable and safe.
May God continue to be with us, calling us to new places and new life. Amen!