There was also the day someone passed out in church. I like to say that my preaching almost killed somebody. It is not totally true. Ellen was only dehydrated and passed out in the middle of my sermon during a very warm Sunday in my non-air conditioned church. Alice sometimes falls asleep during my sermons. On this particular Sunday, she started leaning rather than sleeping straight up. Another woman who often helps Ellen was unable to wake her up.
I was about 2/3 of the way through my sermon (apparently a bad time in my sermon!). I simply stopped—noticing what was going on as everyone else did at that same moment. I was able to seem calm on the outside. I instantly thought of what Peter Steinke calls “a non-anxious presence.” On the inside I was freaking out. A few people laid her down in the pew. They called a person in the congregation who was a nurse and another who was a volunteer fireman to come and help.
I went over to my organist and asked her to play “Amazing Grace” or something that would break up the heavy silence. In hindsight, this was maybe not the best of moves. I was told later that people thought of that as a funeral song and that it made the mood for some even heavier. At least I found it calming.
My elders responded wonderfully. Two went to her to take care of her. One went and got a fan so that we could cool her down. The volunteer fireman called the ambulance. I came down to where she was, but I simply stood and waited as things played out. I felt that the elders were doing their job and that I was to tend to the congregation and simply be calm for them. Perhaps I should have said something. I had said nothing throughout this whole encounter, but I think that most people knew what was going on. I felt that I needed to pray, but I felt no rush to do so. God was well aware of what was going on. I was praying to myself as I let the situation unfold, standing over it and monitoring things.
After a span of time—I could not tell you how long—a woman in the congregation blurted out, “Jordan, I think we need to pray.”
In my head I thought, “Well, duh! Of course we need to pray. You think I do not know that we need to pray. I am waiting. I am trusting God that he already knows.” Out loud I simply said, “I will.” I was not trying to slam the door on this woman. I simply did not want to react out of panic. I did not want the panic in her voice to come out in mine. I paused for a few more moments, and then I did pray.
At the end of my prayer, she woke up. Right at the amen she came-to and looked at me. I am not sure that I raised her from the dead, but I am not sure that I did not either. My wife and I have fun private debates about what happened. She was praying and had her hand in Ellen’s direction as well. It is much contested which one of us brought her back from the other side, though I prayed out loud so I think the answer is pretty clear.
I announced to the congregation that Ellen was awake and that everything was ok. I checked with my clerk of session and suggested that we end worship at that time to get out of the way for the emergency medical technicians. Elders went to the doors with offering plates so that people could give if they had come prepared to do so. I then explained what was happening and dismissed the congregation. I simply said to “go in peace” rather than a full benediction. As people were leaving, the ambulance arrived. She did not go to the hospital, but instead someone drove her home.
After things had calmed down, Ellen apologized to me about interrupting my sermon. I somewhat jokingly said that it was alright because I had not written an ending for the sermon and was going to be ad-libbing my conclusion. We laughed.
The next day I called Ellen to check up with her. It turns out that she had gotten dehydrated and had overworked herself the day before. She again was apologetic but I felt it was more important that she be healthy than sorry. The next Sunday her son was in town and came to church with her. He thanked me for my care of his mother during this incident.
This is how life comes at us and at our parishioners. It comes in crises. It comes in waves of surprise. As a leader, the pastor must be able to lead for the long hall through vision, strategic planning, board room work and things like that. But the moments that people really remember are those moments when the leader has to step up. Those moments where no one knows what to say but something must be said and it falls to the leader to speak up.
I liked the idea of being a “non-anxious presence” in that moment. I truly believe that this phrase shot into my head by the power of the Holy Spirit. It would have been easy for me to get sucked into the emotions of the moment. Internally, I was. Externally, however, I was able to portray that trust that the congregation did not have at the time. I think this is a large part of pastoral leadership. When the people are short on faith and cannot find the strength to trust they look to the pastor. At least someone still believes. This shows that the character of the pastor is so important. The pastor can say a lot, but their behavior is an example for others.
What I find fascinating is that in her moment of panic the nervous church member did not stand up and pray. She wanted me to pray. I was not ordained yet and am less than half her age. I do not think I have magic prayers. I am not especially gifted with words in prayer. I do not think I have a direct line to the Big Guy that my church members do not. Still, she looked to me. Ever since I went to seminary I have been asked to pray at family meals and community gatherings. I remember at one family gathering when asked to pray I made a joke about “keeping work at work.” I meant it as a joke and was going to pray but it has made for awkward moments every since with that family. There is an expectation that I should pray but a question of if I really want to. I wish I had never made that joke.
The fact is, it is part of my calling and it is an honor to carry the needs of people before the throne of God almighty. I try with my congregation to emphasize that they have full access to God in Jesus Christ. He is the one mediator that they have and they need. Still, people find comfort in the prayers of a pastor.
So I keep learning stuff that there was no way they would or could cover in seminary. Like what to do on Monday mornings in my office with no deadlines and only me and my thoughts to guide me. Or like how to teach a Bible study so it is not a seminary class. Or how to emphasize that people would benefit from being in church and giving financially without sounding like the church police or a beggar. But most of all, over and over again and in deeper and deeper ways, I learn of the love of Jesus Christ. So…on to the next lesson.
By Jordan Rimmer ’12, MDiv grad, is a current pastor, husband, and father of four.