Searching for Elisha
Maybe it's you?
It was early autumn 2023 and no one had signed up for Stepping Into the Story, so I decided to host a series of standalone spiritual practice workshops. In one of them we were contemplating the story of Elijah in the cave. I had invited everyone to listen in the silence after the story, to see if God was inviting them into something new, or back to something. In the silence that I assumed was for everyone else, suddenly I heard an invitation myself: “Now you may start praying for Elisha.”
Elisha is the name of Elijah’s apprentice and later successor.
What I thought and hoped that meant was that even though I am a part-time pastor of a very small church that sometimes struggles to pay me, God would be sending to us what I had long wanted here: a part-time colleague I could mentor for ministry in this particular church, who could become the next lead pastor after I left, which Paul and I were already discerning would be in less than three years from that time.
Had we met and hired this mysterious “Elisha” person prior to last Sunday, likely the timeline I had in my head where I put Pilgrimage work on pause for a semester or two while I start a DMin, and keep pastoring Central Baptist until after Easter 2026, would have played out just as I envisioned. But I never do guess the story God’s telling quite right. I still think I was right to start praying for Elisha. I just guessed wrong that there would be overlap between us. As it has become clearer that my “overlap” assumptions weren’t being realized, meanwhile the Pilgrimage has been ramping up instead of winding down and, as I said to the deacons in our meeting last week,
“I guess it doesn’t make sense to shut down the thing I’m moving towards doing more of, to keep doing the thing I’m leaving.”
On Sunday at church I preached on the story of Elijah in the cave. And then, while apparently one of our elder members was taking notes, suddenly she was surprised when the sermon turned into me announcing to the whole congregation that my last Sunday as their pastor will be August 10, 2025. Without an Elisha to take the reins.
There has been a lot to contend with at this church over the last six and a half years, but right now, pending the resolution of one or two things, we’re in a really healthy place, and I like the feeling that I’ve done the best I can here, and that I’m not leaving because of a fight, and that we all might be sad to say goodbye to each other instead of relieved or something. Although the timing feels sudden even to me, and I wish I knew who was going to pick up the baton next, I do feel assured that, as I said the congregation, for me and Paul specifically, the pillar of cloud and fire (to reference a different Hebrew Bible story) is moving, and when it does it’s time to follow it, and it will be good for both us and the congregation if we all continue paying attention to the Spirit of God.
Then today I was driving home from dropping off some copies of Follower at a different church and saw a panhandler in a median where often people stand in hopes passing drivers will give them a hand. I had some fast-food I had just bought and extended definitely not enough of it out the window to him. He took it and said, “Thanks. No one else is trying to help out.”
I had to keep driving because the light was green, but I began to wonder about his story. And I thought about how, until I got to Central Baptist, this kind of thing—handing over a packet of french fries, say, or even a couple of bucks—was the most contact I ever had with unhoused people and I didn’t even always take the opportunity.
But a pretty high proportion of our small congregation is or has faced housing insecurity, food insecurity, joblessness, debilitating disability, lack of education and other resources. We’re trying to figure out how best to sustainably help one of these members right now, and there are no easy answers. A whole bunch of us, including the pastor (so far still me), contend with mental illness. There is a new influx of people in active recovery from addiction…and sometimes recovery means relapse. And I have never been anywhere else on the planet where I’ve encountered more blatant and relentless spiritual opposition.
This assignment is not for the faint of heart, but it is really meaningful, front-lines work, and I admit when I handed the fries to that guy I didn’t know in the median, I had a moment of pause. It’s not like everyone I know through the Pilgrimage is healthy or whole or well-resourced either, but the work itself feels more “privileged,” somehow, and I thought, “Do you really want to give up this work on the ground with ‘the least of these’ to go spend money on something like a doctorate to help you fix the ‘haves’?”
Okay, look—when the Holy Spirit challenges me, the Spirit doesn’t demean anyone, so I don’t think it was necessarily God asking me that question—God cares about everyone’s well-being and oneness with Him, so I don’t really think that “privilege” is a category for God the way it is for us. But I do think it was worth asking myself the question, and my answer to it as asked (“Do you really want…?”) is…I don’t know.
I do know I’m tired. Much of this work has been one long hard battle after another, in one realm or another. But also, I’ve seen God work in ways that before I’ve only ever read about, and I’ve seen both this church and me (each of whom have been wounded by other pastors and congregations) heal and grow tremendously, even if we haven’t fully “arrived.” I don’t actually feel any doubt about the direction God is leading me or that I have reached the end of what God has equipped me to do at Central Baptist, but I sure care a whole lot about what happens next, including that they really find Elisha. I think—have always thought, ever since I set foot in that church—that God has a special affection for this congregation, and intends to keep surprising the principalities and powers, and probably also the humans around it, through it for years to come. I’m looking forward to seeing it, even if it’s from afar.
In the Bible, Elijah was the person that the kingdom of Israel needed, and Elisha was the person they needed next, after Elijah prepared them. For all my faults and lacks, I believe I (and my Paul, frankly, because humanly speaking, I could not have done this without him) was the person Central Baptist needed for the last sevenish years, and I’m hoping God’s invitation to me to pray for “Elisha” means that there’s someone specific God has in mind to follow after me into the pastorate of this church in the manner for which I have prepared it.
Love this friend.
Thank you for sharing this, Jenn. It's both vulnerable and encouraging.