From Virginia to Coastal Carolina

After Wednesday, May 15, a pause in weekly gatherings

A parishioner’s garden in Bremo Bluff, Virginia

After this Wednesday, May 15, we’ll take a break from our weekly Contemplative Chapel gatherings on Zoom, because I will be preparing for a new role as Interim Rector of a small Episcopal church in Wilmington, North Carolina: St. Andrew’s On-the-Sound.

The church is a stone’s throw from Wrightsville Beach where my family vacationed every summer when I was a little boy - I have happy memories. My mother had vacationed there with her family when she was young. Later in life, my mother often struggled emotionally, but my siblings and I remember how Mom came alive and was unfailingly happy whenever we returned to Wrightsville Beach.

My mother (center, in black bathing suit) with her family at Wrightsville Beach. L-R: My Uncle Jim, Aunt Muriel, Mom, Grandmother and Grandfather Hendrix

So, yes, there’s something nostalgic about returning to that part of the world. Also, Cherry and I have very good friends in Wilmington, and it’s wonderful that the church is only four hours from Richmond. But nostalgia, convenience, and the presence of friends are not sufficient reasons to take a position as Interim Rector. Instead, what made the position especially compelling was the lay leadership at the church.

Like most vestry people I’ve met, the vestry at St. Andrew’s On-the-Sound is concerned about the future of their church in this time of general church stagnation or decline. But what makes these leaders different is that they genuinely seem to believe that all of this is in God’s hands. Go figure.

These vestry members see that their job is to remain faithful and humble, while they invite and graciously welcome all who come to their church, as if they are welcoming Christ himself (which, of course, is exactly what we are doing when we welcome and care for each other). During the interim, these leaders want to give renewed attention to their spiritual lives, because they know that their chief witness will not be a slick parish profile with impressive financials. Rather, their chief witness will be their own lives of faith and caring. “By this, everyone will know that you are my disciples.”

They’ve had a fine rector who nurtured them for 22 years, and this is not the time these leaders want to become clever strategists for the institutional church.

St. Andrew’s On-the-Sound, Wilmington, NC

While meeting with the vestry by the beach one evening, with takeout pizza, I thought of all the times I have been greeted in North Carolina at a convenience store, a gas station, or a barbecue restaurant, “Hello, Sugar. How are you today?” And when I’ve left, “Travel safely, Darlin’; thank you for coming in, and please come back soon.” The vestry welcomed me like that.

And it’s not as if they didn’t have anything to brag about. Far from it.

A few of the vestry from St. Andrew’s are retired international business people; one is current head of the main Wilmington art museum; there are prominent attorneys; several are experienced world travelers; one is an engineer who guides a division of General Electric in building small nuclear reactors for domestic energy…. These are all sophisticated church leaders, and I’m sure I don’t know half of their accomplishments.

But their sense of identity seems to come not from their education, awards, or accomplishments; rather, their sense of self seems to rest in something gentle, unassuming, and kind. There was a sense of presence among them, something that made me pause with gratitude.

It reminded of the old saying, “North Carolina is a vale of humility between two mountains of conceit” (with apologies to SC and VA). I mentioned that old saying to the vestry of St. Andrew’s On-the-Sound that evening when we picnicked by the beach. Only one of vestry members had ever heard it.

As compelling as the call to St. Andrew’s On-the-Sound has felt, this was an excruciating decision for me, mostly because of my deep, spiritual connection to the small congregation at Grace Church, Bremo Bluff here in Virginia. For a couple of years now (before and after my blessed experience in Houston), on any given Sunday, we usually have about 10 people in church at Grace, Bremo Bluff (we had 20 this past Easter, though). And when Jesus talks about “worshiping God in spirit and in truth” (John 4), this small congregation is a good example of what Jesus meant.

The loving faithfulness of the people at Bremo Buff has been life-giving for me. They are people who are pure in heart and unfailingly kind, and when I am among them, I frequently find myself thinking, “Surely, the presence of the Lord is in this place.” May 12 and 19 are my last Sundays at Bremo Bluff, and I’ll be savoring them.

Top row L-R: Some of the regulars; an old chapel that was moved to Bremo Bluff; the brick church and graveyard. Bottom row: interior of Grace Church.

So, it’s a bittersweet time, but mostly I’m excited, in large part because the people at Grace have been, well, graceful about it all. One member reminded me that I promised to help plant jonquil bulbs on the church property this fall, so I have at least one trip to Virginia I need to plan.

I intend to post articles here from time to time, as Rafa and I make our way to Coastal Carolina, and I’ll remember you in my daily contemplative practice. So, I look forward to staying in touch with you all, and I appreciate your patience as we pause our weekly Contemplative Chapel gatherings on Zoom. I’ll miss you.