NEWS | A Letter from Lucas Jones
To the wonderful people of DOWNTOWN CHURCH,
It is with an imperfect faith in an awesome God that I announce that Sunday May 7th will be my final Sunday serving as the Associate Pastor of DOWNTOWN CHURCH. Gardner, Brooks, Jasper, and I will be moving to Brevard North Carolina where Gardner and I will begin the process of assuming leadership in a family business: Operating and directing a Christian Summer Camp for girls. I’ll be transitioning from pastoring 700 folks in Columbia to 1200 campers and counselors each summer in the mountains of North Carolina. It is an exciting move for us as a family, but one that is also filled with deep sadness as we leave a community and church that we love.
I’m sad because I love this church. I love you people and know that some of you love me. I’m sad because I will miss the times you have welcomed me into your holy spaces of grief and joy. I’ll miss the conversations, the crying, the laughing, the talks of theology over a coffee, and the wild stories told around campfires with bourbon. I’m sad because I will miss the early morning wake ups at Montreat, the evenings playing and learning with the confirmands, the ice-pops at Kindness Camps, the hours hiking in the rain on Cumberland Island, the sermons I fumbled through, the songs I sang out of key, and the many sacred moments we have had together. I’m sad because we will miss Columbia, DOWNTOWN CHURCH, and the people here.
However, within my sadness, I am hopeful.
I’m hopeful because this church is full of love and made up of people who are overflowing with creativity and energy. I’m hopeful because you are the church, and the church will continue to do God’s work. I’m hopeful in what is ahead for our family, and the awesome opportunity we have in continuing our love and call for ministry, young people, and the outdoors as camp directors. Ultimately, I’m hopeful because I believe in a God who will continue to walk alongside this place and these people as you love God and love your neighbors.
So, if you’re sad, or hopeful, or anywhere in between know that I feel with you. If you’re angry, or feel betrayed, I get that too, and I am sorry.
For the past three years I have served as your Associate Pastor: Fully imperfect and opinionated. Fully frustrated that we never start church on time, fully able to make any baby who is about to be baptized cry, and in full belief that some of the greatest answers to our hardest questions can come from the voice of the child. You have let me act a fool with your kids, go backpacking with the adults, speak challenging words from the pulpit, and not once have I had to hide who I am and who I feel God has called me to be. Thank you. Thank you.
Know that I feel nothing but love and infinite gratitude to this church, the pastor nominating committee that hired me, the session, this staff, and my amazing boss, friend, and mentor, Dawn. Y’all took a chance on a fresh seminary graduate during a global pandemic. You showed up as our family grew and did so with radical love and unending support. As Fred Rogers once said, “there are many people that love us into being,” and you all have loved me into being: As a pastor, a friend, a teacher, a leader, and a father. I have learned much, and I hope that in this time, that I gave more than I took.
I’m not great at goodbyes. So, like a pastor should, I turned to scripture to figure out how to do it. In John 14, as Jesus is preemptively saying goodbye to his buddies, and he says, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”
How nice it would be if I were as elegant with my words as Jesus?? But I’m not.
And the more I thought about it, it’s not entirely proper for me to say those words to you, but rather you to me.
For you are the body of Christ. The incarnation of Jesus is an affirmation that you, yes YOU, the church are the hands, feet, ears, and eyes of the risen Christ. You will continue to love this community. You will continue to welcome in the stranger, help heal the wounded, and nurture the baptized. You will continue to sing beautiful songs blurring any line between the secular and the sacred, and YOU will continue to worship this mysterious, awesome, and unfathomable God… and most likely not start church on time.
So, thank you for giving me peace. Thank you for being the church. Thank you for allowing me the privilege of serving you.
With so much love,
Rev. Lucas Jones