A Long Goodbye
Published by Korey Buchanek under on 10:52 AM
July 8, 2010
Eight years. Eight years ago I joined hands with Justin and Melissa West, Suzie Kramer and my bride to embark on the greatest journey of our lives. This journey took us into the community of Green Valley Ranch to pour our hearts and souls into the lives of a people that would bless us abundantly. This journey to plant a new church in Denver, CO would at times wreck me with conviction and bring tears of joy as we witnessed the victory of fathers and mothers coming to know Christ intimately. The countless hours of pouring our lives into the people of HVC and this community have left an indelible mark on my soul. Yet, God has once again moved and with a sovereign and divine hand He calls our family to say goodbye.
I never thought for a second that my heart and future would not be consumed by the life of this precious body of believers. I’ve cried with couples in their homes as they fought for their marriages. I’ve prayed over countless individuals that have stepped out in faith to step onto the mission field as they shared the love of Christ. I’ve counseled people through addiction and hopelessness to see the Holy Spirit move them into a season of freedom and joy. I have been blessed to see the work of a big God take hold of the hearts of mothers and fathers to now see Him ushering their children into the Kingdom of God. We’ve witnessed over a hundred precious souls walk through the waters of baptism. Hope Valley has touched the soils of places such as Fiji, Belarus, Brazil, Mexico, Slovakia, Iraq, and the Samoan Islands. We washed clothes and cooked meals in the heart of New Orleans after tragedy struck. We gave sacrificially when the call came to work with teachers in our schools and families without food. We gave our time every year to take breakfast to the street corners and gifts to the doorsteps of our neighborhoods. Whether it was Christmas or Thanksgiving we saw the smiles of hurting families receive food or gifts when they that thought the holiday would bring hopelessness and fear. Whether it was a free car wash or a simple conversation over coffee God left His fingerprints on one life after another with His grace.
Today as I pack boxes to prepare for the movers that arrive in two days I struggle to really believe this is happening. The question of why has definitely plagued me. I don’t want to go, yet I’m aware of His call that resounds in my soul. My time here is complete yet my heart rests with the friends and families of this dear place. The voices of this place have shaped me and taught me immeasurable principles of truth and love. I’ve learned through countless mistakes what grace looks like by my God and his people. This has been my home. These have been my people. This has been my life.
There is understanding in His Word that proclaims that His ways are not our ways. His desires are not always my desires, yet my heart longs to make His desires my own. I have to grasp the reality that to be called a child of the King means I have to willing to follow Him. I struggle with obedience being greater than sacrifice. I wish my excuses carried more weight, but they simply fall short as they did with Moses standing in the presence of a burning bush. Some might find it trivial that I’m struggling to move to Hawaii to start over with a new people and culture, but those people don’t understand the depth of relationship that I’ve been blessed with. The children that I’ve come to love and see as precious to my own family will grow up with another a pastor. There will be weddings; there will be funerals of people that have been part of my family and my life. Soon there will be another voice speaking into the lives of people that I, like Paul, call spiritual children of mine. They are true trophies of the ministry that God has blessed me with. There are many pastors that have never had the opportunity to truly be loved by their people, I have.
I don’t know who convinced me to give a six week resignation, but I’m now wondering if they had any idea how hard it is to have a long goodbye. Each day holds a different conversation or a moment that speaks to me. I’m thankful for each one, but each one is hard. I wonder how Paul felt each time he left a group of believers that he had pour his life into wondering if he would ever see them again? His letters take on new meaning to me as he wrote to people that he cared so deeply about. I truly believe this is what ministry is all about. This is supposed to be hard. For the pastors out there that leave church after church I’m sad they don’t understand a sadness that should come from their time with a people. My dear friend and co-pastor Kevin Miller has stated several times he’s just sad. Well, I can truly say I understand his heart. Grief is a funny thing. You want to avoid it, but you know deep down you can’t. I don’t want to, but at the same time I do.
Today I write for me, not you the reader. This is part of my grief. As well, part of my joy. I know that what awaits me will bring great hope in who He is and all the while a struggle in the journey itslef. It will be different and I’m thankful for that. I don’t want to replace anything. I want to experience the newness of my God with a new people. People that will have new journey's and yet people that will see a hope renewed in glorious ways. I’m thankful that my God considers me faithful enough to take what I’ve learned here and impart that to a people that are wanting more out of church and life. I’m ready for a new season of life and ministry, but first I must say goodbye….
Eight years. Eight years ago I joined hands with Justin and Melissa West, Suzie Kramer and my bride to embark on the greatest journey of our lives. This journey took us into the community of Green Valley Ranch to pour our hearts and souls into the lives of a people that would bless us abundantly. This journey to plant a new church in Denver, CO would at times wreck me with conviction and bring tears of joy as we witnessed the victory of fathers and mothers coming to know Christ intimately. The countless hours of pouring our lives into the people of HVC and this community have left an indelible mark on my soul. Yet, God has once again moved and with a sovereign and divine hand He calls our family to say goodbye.
I never thought for a second that my heart and future would not be consumed by the life of this precious body of believers. I’ve cried with couples in their homes as they fought for their marriages. I’ve prayed over countless individuals that have stepped out in faith to step onto the mission field as they shared the love of Christ. I’ve counseled people through addiction and hopelessness to see the Holy Spirit move them into a season of freedom and joy. I have been blessed to see the work of a big God take hold of the hearts of mothers and fathers to now see Him ushering their children into the Kingdom of God. We’ve witnessed over a hundred precious souls walk through the waters of baptism. Hope Valley has touched the soils of places such as Fiji, Belarus, Brazil, Mexico, Slovakia, Iraq, and the Samoan Islands. We washed clothes and cooked meals in the heart of New Orleans after tragedy struck. We gave sacrificially when the call came to work with teachers in our schools and families without food. We gave our time every year to take breakfast to the street corners and gifts to the doorsteps of our neighborhoods. Whether it was Christmas or Thanksgiving we saw the smiles of hurting families receive food or gifts when they that thought the holiday would bring hopelessness and fear. Whether it was a free car wash or a simple conversation over coffee God left His fingerprints on one life after another with His grace.
Today as I pack boxes to prepare for the movers that arrive in two days I struggle to really believe this is happening. The question of why has definitely plagued me. I don’t want to go, yet I’m aware of His call that resounds in my soul. My time here is complete yet my heart rests with the friends and families of this dear place. The voices of this place have shaped me and taught me immeasurable principles of truth and love. I’ve learned through countless mistakes what grace looks like by my God and his people. This has been my home. These have been my people. This has been my life.
There is understanding in His Word that proclaims that His ways are not our ways. His desires are not always my desires, yet my heart longs to make His desires my own. I have to grasp the reality that to be called a child of the King means I have to willing to follow Him. I struggle with obedience being greater than sacrifice. I wish my excuses carried more weight, but they simply fall short as they did with Moses standing in the presence of a burning bush. Some might find it trivial that I’m struggling to move to Hawaii to start over with a new people and culture, but those people don’t understand the depth of relationship that I’ve been blessed with. The children that I’ve come to love and see as precious to my own family will grow up with another a pastor. There will be weddings; there will be funerals of people that have been part of my family and my life. Soon there will be another voice speaking into the lives of people that I, like Paul, call spiritual children of mine. They are true trophies of the ministry that God has blessed me with. There are many pastors that have never had the opportunity to truly be loved by their people, I have.
I don’t know who convinced me to give a six week resignation, but I’m now wondering if they had any idea how hard it is to have a long goodbye. Each day holds a different conversation or a moment that speaks to me. I’m thankful for each one, but each one is hard. I wonder how Paul felt each time he left a group of believers that he had pour his life into wondering if he would ever see them again? His letters take on new meaning to me as he wrote to people that he cared so deeply about. I truly believe this is what ministry is all about. This is supposed to be hard. For the pastors out there that leave church after church I’m sad they don’t understand a sadness that should come from their time with a people. My dear friend and co-pastor Kevin Miller has stated several times he’s just sad. Well, I can truly say I understand his heart. Grief is a funny thing. You want to avoid it, but you know deep down you can’t. I don’t want to, but at the same time I do.
Today I write for me, not you the reader. This is part of my grief. As well, part of my joy. I know that what awaits me will bring great hope in who He is and all the while a struggle in the journey itslef. It will be different and I’m thankful for that. I don’t want to replace anything. I want to experience the newness of my God with a new people. People that will have new journey's and yet people that will see a hope renewed in glorious ways. I’m thankful that my God considers me faithful enough to take what I’ve learned here and impart that to a people that are wanting more out of church and life. I’m ready for a new season of life and ministry, but first I must say goodbye….
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