The First Service

Well, I survived my first Sunday in the parish. The first service was a bit touch and go from the sharing of the peace forward, between typos and me not knowing their communion style while the communion assistant didn't know mine, but we all bumbled along and made it through. I think I rocked the sensibilities of some of the old guard by sitting in the front row instead of in the holier-than-thou seating (no offense intended to you who prefer the up-front style - my take on it stems from childhood garbage). I also prayed from among the congregation rather than from a position apart. All intentional moves that were met with acceptance...at least so far. I thought if there was anytime to put my style and stamp on the place, why not do so off the bat? I'm fortunate in that each time I suggest something, the congregation seems very amenable. Is this what they mean about the honeymoon period? Funny enough, some folks even asked why I hadn't changed more. I'm sure they'll let me know if/when I've gone too far.
In my sermon, I shared the highlights from my week (see previous post). If they aren't clear that I'm human, flawed and anyone other than a messiah, they weren't listening. I also joked about the buzz around our small town: what's the new pastor like? I heard she bought a new desk. Have you seen her house? Why does she sit in the front row at worship? Naming the realities seemed to cut any tension that might have been lingering under the surface.
I come to love and treasure this place more and more each day. In those rare moments when God's calling is so clear, it's worth pausing to dwell in that realization. Installation is next week. My advisor from the Castle will preach. I'm hoping the weather doesn't give us any trouble and that all goes off without any glaring hitches.