Just Beyond the Horizon

A friend of mine loves the ocean, but lives in the Midwest. Not being able to frequently visit the ocean, she instead imagines that over each horizon is the ocean. She knows it isn’t there. However, imagining the sand and the waves brings her joy and peace. 

There is hope in believing that just beyond the horizon is something better. There is faith in believing that things will get better, even if circumstances state otherwise. There is faith in believing there is something better over a familiar horizon, even when you have been over that hill before.

As we approach the month of November, we turn our minds to Thanksgiving. A time of year where we pause to be grateful for what we have in our present, recall the goodness of God in the past, and find the faith to believe God’s goodness will continue into our futures.

Being thankful can be difficult. Many people will tell you the best way to be thankful is to focus on what you have. And this can be helpful. Perspective is a good tool. However, it is also possible for perspective to skew our outlook. 

The well worn adage of “I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a man with no feet” can give us perspective, but it can also lead us to minimize our own problems. Having no shoes exposes your feet to the elements. Exposure to the elements may cause the development of frostbite. Frostbite left untreated can lead to the loss of ones feet. Soon enough, the one with no shoes can find themselves in the same position as the one with no feet.

This Thanksgiving each of us have something to be grateful for. This Thanksgiving each of us have something we wish were better. As we prepare for Thanksgiving, I pray that we can all find what we have to be grateful for. I pray that we have the faith to believe that what comes next will be even better. I pray that we all may know that the sand and waves of peace and joy are just over the horizon.

Serving God alongside all of you, just from further away

Jesse Letourneau

FEB 10 AGAIN

I haven't been feeling well lately. There are some immediate reasons for that. But those wounds are beginning to heal.

But there are also some historical reasons. Or at least reasons from my personal history.

Here is a little context

The Song Goes On

Same Song Next Verse

Feb 10

Feb 10 Showed up on my Facebook Feed again, and I realized why I had not been feeling well. Even though I wasn't aware of the date, my body was remembering the loss and pushing me to grieve.

Last time I wrote about Feb 10, I wrote that I had found "Home".

It was a year later that I found out I would be leaving that place.

That news came after a weekend full of ministry that spoke to my soul in ways that ministry rarely does, and in ways that only ministry can.

One of my best memories of Florida, followed by one of my least favorite memories of my ministry from Florida.

The simple story would be to say that I was meant to be here all along. But that simply isn't true. I wouldn't be able to do the work I am doing now if not for my time in Florida. For that matter, I wouldn't be able to do it as well as I am without the phone calls with JD Rose while at the church in Southern California. Or without the lessons learned in the place before that. And really when you think about it, my time in seminary prepared me....

My story is not a straight path. It never has been. 

While this week holds the memories of finding two things that I was so certain of not being what I thought they would be. It also holds plenty of joy. Some of them are mentioned in the blogs above. Some have happened in the three years since I wrote that blog.

This is my fourth church since the "first" Feb 10, and my fifth home.

Each place feels like I was there for a life time. Some were comfortable, some were much less so. Some I am proud at what I accomplished. Some I have taken lessons from those places and worked to become a better person and a better minister. Some held a little of column A and a little of column B.

The start of February has held for me

Starting a job search

Receiving a Scout Patch for a Pinewood Derby (all I did was unlock the doors)

A winter retreat with some of the best youth around

A trip to Universal with more of the same

Delivering meds to a snow bound friend

Taking 5th and 6th graders on a hike at night in the rain (way more fun than it seems)

One of my favorite nights serving at Trinity UMC

Meeting Popeye

and continuing my song. 

--Serving God alongside all of you, just from further away

--Jesse Letourneau

A little bit of Gonzo in the new office just for good measure

The Desk Chronicles: Part Three: Beginning Again

In September of 2018, I wrote about placing a toy car on my desk in Florida. The link below will take you to that story.

The Desk Chronicles: Part One: Roots

This week I added a paper weight to my new desk, where I now serve as the pastor of Salem UCC, Westphalia, Indiana. The paper weight was a gift from a congregant who attended Salem in years past. It marks the 125th anniversary of this congregation.  Our 175th is right around the corner. 

I have only been here seven weeks, and yet it feels like home. It is smaller and quieter than any place I have ever been.  Yet it feels like home. Before I arrived here, I only encountered lightning bugs like twice in my lifetime. Now they are out my back porch most every night. The rain comes differently here too. Some times suddenly, some times you can see the storm roll on. Sometimes it passes by all together. And that smell after the rain? It is unique in each place I have lived.  And now, only a month and a half later, the air after a rain is the scent of home. 

Though if I am honest, the smell of pine trees will always be home. But I was near pines for the first quarter century of my life. I still miss pine trees. I still miss mountains. But now, oak trees and corn fields are home. I still miss Target and Trader Joe's, and the burger place that was a short walk from work. But Westphalia is home. And not just because my stuff is here. (Though that was a whole other ordeal.)

I am home because I am here. I have found the way to be comfortable and at ease with myself no matter where I am. Some say Home is where the Heart is. Some say Home is where you Hang your Hat. I think home is where you find peace. And I have found peace in myself. But I did not do that alone.

I found peace in the friends in college who drove to Vegas for no good reason (and without enough seat belts). I found peace in the friends who made sure I got to private movie screenings. I found peace in the Bible study where we learned that God isn't shocked by your sin. I found peace in learning that being an Eagles fan, even if only for the cheesestakes is an emotional roller coaster. I found peace on zip line platforms, caves, and ski mountains with amazing people who saw in me, what I couldn't yet see. I found peace talking to Sven and Ollie. I found peace in Baby Shark (before it was a lifestyle brand). I found peace folding way too many origami flowers for an Easter service. I found peace in ordering the Fish Sandwich every Thursday for a semester. I found peace in soda, "make it fancy", and home made cookies. I found peace in gathering at the table for board games and Seders, but truly in the people gathered around said table. I found peace in the Purple Room struggling to cobble together translations from the Greek or watching The Guardians of the Galaxy bring peace through friendship. I found peace being chased by zombies on our way to ride the Viper. I found peace in being let into the lives of some truly remarkable people. I found peace meeting the real Santa Claus (he lives in Gainesville). I found peace on the steps of the chancel with a lion puppet on my hand and their eyes glued to said puppet. I found peace on the Ichetucknee River. I found peace in the insanity that was Wizarding School. I even found peace reading books online and having amazing food brought to my door.

I found peace in the eyes, in the smiles, the words, and the souls of too many to list here. Though if you are reading this, there is a very good chance you are one of them.


--Serving God alongside all of you, just from further away

--Jesse Letourneau

The Desk Chronicles: Part Two: Leaving Well

Leaving Well

Today is the three year anniversary of my first day on staff at California Heights United Methodist Church.

I held that position for 364 days. That year (rounding up) was full of lessons, heartbreaks, and joys like I had never truly known before. Yet it is just my last couple of days there, that I want to mention here.

Before I left, a friend who knew about some of the heartbreak of that year, encouraged me to leave some small item on my desk at the church. He encouraged me to "imagine that item as all of the frustration and pain from this year. As you drive away from it, imagine yourself driving away from all of that to your new start in Florida." I was encouraged to think of the distance between myself and the totem as the distance between myself and those wounds.

I left a pencil adorned with a pink puff on top on my desk. And drove to Florida.

Two years later (again rounding up) I would be driving away from another church, another family, and another desk. This time however, while there certainly was frustration and pain in that time, there was also joy and growth. I wanted to leave a token behind. This time as a symbol of the good will I found there.


This plastic top appeared one day in one of the Worship Bags we hand out to our kids to give them something to focus on during the service.

However, it didn't come from us. It was left behind. It found its way into my office. I would spin it or just fiddle with it while I was on the phone, or needing a kinetic outlet when I was problem solving. It also saw use when our office email decided to run particularly slowly.

As I waited for the owner to claim it. It quickly became "my top." One of the many items on my desk that were all a part of my time at First UMC in Florida.

As my time in Florida drew to a close, I reflected on my time in California. It was a comfort to see the marked difference between the two experiences. Not just in the day to day of ministry, but in the person I was entering the Sunshine State, and who I was as I prepared to leave.
So, I thought up this little ritual.

One item left behind as a reminder of the new beginning I was about to embark on. Another item left behind as a reminder of the joy brought to me by that place.

--Serving God alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

And Then...

So, 2020 has been a year.

Worldwide pandemic.
The impact of that upon the US.
The shifting ground of that impact that shifted the ground exposing truths to others who hadn't seen/hadn't cared.
The politicization and sniping that we took from these lessons.

Due to the last part of that recap, I don't think I want to rehash the larger issues here on this site.
But if you have my contact info. Would love to have those conversations with you.


2020 has been quite the year for me personally as well.

Learned on Super Bowl Sunday, that May 31, would be my last day at FUMC.
Began online interviews via ZOOM as I searched for a new home for ministry. (Before ZOOM was the cool new thing)
Found a really cool daily rhythm reading to the children of FUMC online. (I suspect there were as many adults as there were kids that enjoyed them.)
Became sick of ZOOM as it was the only way to have interviews for new positions, staff meetings, etc.
Was literally fed by a family at First who "made too much" and "just had to share." Despite strong evidence to the contrary, I still believe it was a magical food fair that exchanged home cooked meals for offerings of tupperwear.
Learned that I might have gifts and talents that were being hidden under several different bushels.
Accepted a job in rural Indiana as solo pastor.
Waited two plus weeks for my furniture to arrive.
Served at a Funeral before my second Sunday as pastor.
And have been so blessed to reconnect with friends from Chicago and Houston via this thing called ZOOM.

And that is just the list. The fear, the anger, joy, sadness, hope, confidence, disbelief, ease, comfort, panic, discipline, sloth, waiting, expecting, receiving, leaving, and arriving could each fill a blog on their own.

But for now, the list will have to do.

--Serving God alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

Next time: Highly symbolic stolen plastic tops

Day 690

I haven't updated this blog since August.
A few things have happened since then. Both globally and personally.

Where I would like to start is with is some highlights from my second year of ministry. When I began this entry, I was expecting to write about the two or three fundamentally grandiose events that radically changed the direction of my ministry.

But looking back, they weren't there. I assumed they would be. My heart is so full of joy and pride that there must be some grand events that created these feelings. Rather, I noticed countless small events. Little things like trips to serve and trips to play. Participating in you all's lives through stage plays,  band performances, baseball games, and of course movies at Celebration Pointe. I found the peace of God on lazy rivers and inflatable water slides. I had the privilege of standing with teachers and scout masters. I had the privilege of sitting in pews and waiting rooms. I got to speak from the pulpit and from the steps of our altar. I got to listen. Oh, and I got to meet Popeye.

In June, I got to experience Georgia. And more importantly I got to experience God moving through middle school students through service and bonding with each other. Through youth soccer campuses and community gardens as well as games of Sardines and Moose Moose (Hot Dog).

In October, we were asked to help out with the Fall Fun on Metcalfe Street event by being a part of the Trunk or Treat area. Turns out we were three of the four vehicles there. It was great to have been asked to partner with this amazing school.

October was also when I got to serve with these weirdos.

In December, I got to hand these off to brighten the holidays for a few families here in Gainesville.

January was when I met Popeye.

In February, we celebrated with Zeke, remembered Reggie and Malia. As a wise man once said, "Ice Cream Breakfast forever:"

In March there was Pancake Dinners, Ash Wednesday, and Scout's Blue and Gold Banquet.
Then things changed just a little. More on that next time.

--Serving God alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

Day 366

In ministry value and worth are often considered in relationship to the size and number of buildings, money, and people involved. That is to say a successful ministry is measured in bucks, butts, and buildings.

The more you have the better you are doing. However, attraction is not service and numbers do not dictate quality. McDonald's and Coca-Cola are in more places than any world religion has even dared to dream.

Now, this is not about mega churches being bad, or small Bible Study being good. This is about taking a moment to notice the little things.

I believe the little things count. I believe the little things add up. I believe sometimes the little things are really the big things.

Over the last year, I have been compiling a list of the moments in my ministry here at First that may appear to be the little things, but are the seeds that grow, the buds that blossom. They are the bedrock that demonstrate to me that my God is at work here in Gainesville.

Below I have shared some of those with you:

2018 
7/23 I walk into my office to find a bouquet of balloons. One of them reads "Welcome Home"

9/19 Before Chapel, the Pre-School children sing "Happy Birthday" to me

9/24 During Communion, myself and the pastor receive the compliment, "You spittin"

10/7 A visitor who had come with one of our youth families and I had a conversation after church about who we were as a congregation. One of those "Oh, I didn't know Christians believed that" kind of conversations

10/7 Having the privilege to sit next to one of our youth at a worship service at Gator Wesley's (campus ministry) service

10/22 A proud parent sharing opening night video of their actor

11/1 Learning the story of a Saint, whose walk with Jesus was longer than my time here on earth thus far

11/1 Linda looses her head over her boyfriend (Evil Dead Musical)

11/1 Watching one of our youth win the championship game, followed by the end of the year ceremony celebrating both teams

12/10 Discussing the depth of Shalom with a Jewish congregant

12/16 The Sunday where every congregant under the age of eighteen was involved in playing, singing, reading, or acolyting during the service

12/16 Having two youth represented at the District Wide Science Fair Award Ceremony, and them giving each other a high-five as they waited for the other names to be called

2019
1/27 The night where one of the youth, who normally wouldn't give me the time of day, excitedly sharing with me what she knew from the topic we mentioned for next week

2/10 A youth stopping me in the halls to tell me they enjoyed Sunday School

2/27 Being ministered to and encouraged by Scout parents after a particularly rough week (and it was only Wednesday)

3/20 A Scout saying they have something that will make me happy. Followed by the announcement that they had made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to give those experiencing homelessness

4/6 Watching a child's face light up when they hear the inflatable slide at the Art Fair is free to ride

4/7 Watching the youth spend time with each other and work together at the Art Fair

4/10 In the middle of our Chapel unit on the life of Jesus, one of the Pre-School Teachers walked her children into the chapel past the stained glass windows (that we had been using as visual aids) and points out the stories we had done thus far

4/19 A youth flipping through Bible to follow along with the reading at the Good Friday Service

5/4 and 5/5 Watching our church come together to reach out to our community with a crazy Harry Potter themed "Wizard Training" Event 5/5 Watching two youth groups work together to make day two of Harry Potter happen 5/5 Connecting with a (third) youth group at the Harry Potter Event

6/19 When the Director of Music walked into my office and said, "So, I was downloading panels of Spider-Man comics" (y'know for work)

7/10 While teaching the Pre-Schoolers the story of Adam and Eve, and asking "What do you think God did next?" "There is nothing you can do to make God stop loving you" was the reply. (Which is the line we end with every week)

7/13 At the Youth Families Retreat seeing one of the Youth wearing their shirt from the Middle School Mission Trip

7/13 Having a Youth ask me to watch her summer production of Mama Mia

7/14 A parent sending a picture of their first grader reading their new Bible on the way home from service

7/21 A Octogenarian and a three year old playing with an over-sized soccer ball after our Simple Sunday Lunch

7/24 Day 366 of working in the place where all are welcomed (even Harry Potter), and the place that has become HOME

The Friends You Take with You

I moved a lot.
Like three jobs in the last three years a lot.
Like living in four states in the last five years a lot.
Like I have down sized more times than Marie Kondo a lot.
Like even then, I haven't completely unpacked in over a decade a lot.

There are places and people that I love dearly spread across this country. Some of those people are still in the cities where we met, others have gone off on their own adventures having moved since our paths first crossed.

And the reality is, no matter how deep the connection or how many suitcases you own, not everything, not everyone can come with you when you move.

So, instead things come to be reminders of the places you once lived. Physical items become totems of the people who were once near.

Chicago 2011
Bob, Mooby, and Cookie get displayed even before I have any furniture

Over the years, I have accrued a handful of these totems. And they all fit into a single box. A single box that is always made accessible whether the rest of my things are in storage or not. A single box that is always unpacked and its items displayed regardless of where I am.

While it may appear that this box is nothing more than a box of toys, each item carries significance for me.

In the photo on the right, the anthropomorphic tomato, Bob (far left), is progenitor of this tradition of hanging onto items that take on a greater meaning. Bob and I first met in college. Bob survived a mission trip in 1998 to Australia. He beyond being rescued from the more curious among our team, carries with him not just the memories of that trip, but the memories of my four years of college. He holds not only the memories of dorm rooms, study sessions, bad cafeteria food, finals weeks and missions trips, but the memory of everyone I met, everyone who broke my heart, and everyone who loved me in spite of my flaws for those four years in Redding, CA.

Copperopolis 2017
More shelves lead to more of the box unpacked

After college, I spent nine years living in Southern California. It was then I met Mooby. Mooby is the cow (really a golden calf) on Bob's left in the pic above, and on Bob's right in the pic below. Mooby represents a unique group of friends unlike any I have had before. It was becoming a part of this group that allowed me to attend private screenings of small documentaries, wide release studio films, and private indy films that never sought distribution. It is the reason I have the autograph of Johnny Depp's daughter and once had to help a Hollywood director shoo a group of drunk fans out of his bedroom. But it isn't these memories that ensure Mooby a place on the shelf. Rather, it is the friends who saw past my own doubts and insecurities and made me feel welcomed and accepted without having to change anything about myself.

Gainesville 2019
Albert joins Bob, Larry, and Mooby
(apologies to Pastor Beth)

Each of these plush toys and souvenirs that have accumulated over the years represent not only the people and places where they come from, they have come to represent parts of myself. My past and my present. My joys and failures, my pain and my victories. Little slices of my story that add up to where I am today. Parts of my identity reflected in the people and places that shaped them.

Most all of them were gifts, and most came about toward the end or ever after the experiences whose memories they hold. Today, I added a new "friend" to the shelf.

This new friend, Albert (the green one wearing the tee) is different. Albert is on the shelf not just as a totem for what has been, but as a totem for what can be. He represents not only this last year in Gainesville, but my future here. Albert represents the piece of myself that has found a home here in Gainesville.

Albert holds the hope and the faith this place will have many more memories to come.





--Serving God alongside all of you, just from further away
 --Jesse Letourneau

Feb 10th

February 10th has been a date of significance for me the last few years.

In 2016, my world was shaken. In 2018, a muppet hued sunset gave me assurance.

I have already written about the journey I have traveled the last decade, and how my hope is that FUMC is my last stop.

The last two years, February 10th has been a date where I take a moment to stop and take stock of where I am. This year, I didn't even realize it was the 10th until I logged into Facebook and checked my Memories for that day.

I am beginning to focus not what could have been, rather, I am looking at what is. Instead of obsessing about what I have learned and how to use it, I am simply using those lessons in this new setting, and in this new calling.

This year the significance is that the date held no significance. No major revelations. No major moments of clarity.

And maybe that is a good thing.

--Serving God alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

The Curated Life

It is often noted that what we see on social media isn’t reality: that each of us is putting on a brave face and presenting a false narrative of positivity.

It is true that social media is full of filters (and not simply the ones we use for our photos).  We filter our thoughts and our emotions on social media.

Social Media is a public place. I do my very best to treat it as such. What you see on my Facebook page is (or at least should be) what I would be comfortable shouting from a street corner. The local passerby may not care I am excited about the latest sci-fi offering on Amazon or that I got to hang out with preschoolers and talk about Jesus with a lion puppet (by the way, I am pretty sure they know the script/routine better than I do now), but I wouldn't be embarrassed for the hypothetical passer-by to know that.

But those filters are not there so that you all will think I am a good person or that I have it all together. I do that for myself. I do my very best to create a place where I can look back and see the good things that I do have. I can look and see the opportunities that I have been given.

It is easy for me to feel lonely. To feel forgotten. To feel useless and unable. I think it easy for all of us to feel that way. Facebook is one of the places I can look to remind myself that none of those things are true.

Back in my day we had physical photo albums and those were full of pictures of birthdays, vacations, and candid holiday snaps. Seldom if ever, did my mom whip out a camera to take pics to show off our bumps and bruises, our tantrums, or when the house looked like a family of four lived there.

Back in my day Facebook was called photo albums.

Photo albums are curated. They are carefully chosen to present a particular story.

The most intentional way I curate my online presence is through my (not so perfect) daily picture photo albums.  Just under five years ago, I began a project to catalogue one thing from my day. One part of my routine, one place I went, one thing I saw, one thing that marked the day.  One thing to remind me that when I feel isolated or limited or even just stuck that the total picture of my day, week, month, year is larger than what I can see in those moments. These albums balance somewhere between a journal, spiritual exercise, art project, and time capsule.

Those that follow this blog will know that there have been some rough times, and more transitions than I really care to count in the last few years.  However, just because something ends, doesn’t mean the good times of the past didn’t happen. Certainly our present colors our past, but it shouldn’t completely rewrite it.

My pictures don’t always reflect the fondest of memories. Amidst the board games in Chicago, the Middle School Concerts in Florida, and the blue purple-ish sunsets in California are photos marking auto collisions, hospital visits (unrelated), and braces for busted elbows.

As noted above, these photo albums are put together for me to look back upon. However, I am grateful for all of you have come along with me on this journey. 

Nine years ago, I started this blog when I moved away from my home and my friends in Southern California. It was a simple way to keep those who I served with, those I loved, and those who loved me included in what I was doing.

Today, this blog serves to help keep in touch with those I have served and loved, and those who have loved me along my travels.

From Long Beach to Occidental, to Chicago, to Houston, to Copperopolis, back to Long Beach, and now out in Gainseville. I am privileged to be able to continue to curate memories and then be able to share them all with you.

 --Serving God alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

Deadites, D-Day, and Departures part 3

When I started this series of posts. It was intended to be just one post.

As I began to share about my All Saints Day (part 1), it quickly became evident that the follow up on Caroll Spinney was going to be its own post (part 2 naturally).  The day I posted part 2, there was another notable departure.

Stan Lee left the mortal coil on November 12, 2018.

Since then, there has already been plenty shared about his contributions to the field of comic books. Personally, my exposure to his impact was felt second hand. My introduction to Stan Lee came not through the books he wrote, rather it came through "Stan's Soapbox".

Stan's Soapbox was a column written by Lee that ran in every book published by Marvel. So no matter which book you picked up that month, you were guaranteed to get a dose of Mr. Lee. The Soapbox was part advertisement, part life advice, and part behind the curtain peek at the inner workings of the Marvel office. But it was so much more than that.

The Soapbox was the front door into the world of Marvel Comics. The Soapbox was the way in. It was where the inside jokes and announcements of upcoming projects were found. It was the place where the reader went from passive observer to an active participant. The amazing thing is that this was all done with plain text. 

There were the more interactive ways to participate in Marvel. There were letter pages and the fan clubs, and of course the famous "No Prize" (just an empty envelope sent to a reader who sent in an explanation for an apparent mistake). And while these things created actual interaction and sometimes meaningful dialogue, I never delved that deeply. (I do remember sending a letter to the editors of Captain America once, but I wasn't picked for publication.)

Despite my lack of formal interaction, I always felt the comics with the Marvel logo were more than just stories. They became more than stories tucked away in plastic bags and cardboard boxes. Through Stan's Soapbox, I came to see myself as a part of something bigger than just me.

Through those Soapboxes, Stan reached through the page and spoke directly to the reader. Addressing the reader directly, allowing us access to the process of creation, and treating the stories as seriously as we did were the tools found up Stan's sleeve that allowed him to turn a simple column into the gateway for a larger world. A larger world not just of tights and capes, but a world where everyone was welcomed.

The greatest trick, and really his greatest gift, was Stan's ability to create a sense of identity in those columns. We were not mere "readers", no in Stan's world we were all "True Believers". Stan didn't simply sign his name at the end of column, rather he signed off with the now oft-repeated, "Excelsior!". 

Stan created a world where all you had to do to belong was to show up.

My introduction to Stan was not through the comics he created, rather it was through his continual support and praise of the works that followed him. For many who have never picked up a comic the same is true. Stan is known to many through his cameo appearances on film and television. In what might be described as the third wave of his career, Stan continued to find ways to support and praise the stories told with the characters that he helped create.

Like Carroll Spinney, Stan lived long enough to see his characters passed onto other creators. He lived long enough to see them recognized by fans born long after the characters were created.

Yet, Stan was much more than the co-creator of much of Marvel Comics. He was more than an ambassador for the MCU. Anyone who has seen Stan in an interview knows that his enthusiasm extended far beyond comics. Stan was an ambassador of kindness, sacrifice, and optimism.

So all that is left to say is simply, Godspeed and of course “Excelsior!”

Jason Lee and Stan Lee (no relation) in Stan's greatest cameo

--Serving God alongside all of you, just from further away
-Jesse Letourneau

Deadties, D-Day and Departures (Part Two) aka Follow that Bird

Last time we spoke of Deadites, D-Day, and duality (more or less). Today, I want to carry on that theme of duality as we look at two departures from the world of Sesame Street. The first is Big Bird. Big Bird reflects unbridled curiosity, unfettered optimism, and unquestioned loyalty. The second departure is Oscar the Grouch. Reveling in the discomfort of others and interested only in being left alone, Oscar may just be the anti-thesis of Big Bird. The man who has performed Big Bird for fifty years is retiring. And at the same time the performer who brought Oscar the Grouch to life these last fifty years is also retiring.

As you may know (or even may have learned if you watched the video above), the performer of Big Bird and of Oscar is one and the same. Caroll Spinney is finally stepping down from his dual role on the Street. Thankfully Matt Vogel will carry on as Big Bird and Eric Jacobson will perform Oscar.

I am truly excited by this news. Not because I wish to see Caroll leave behind these characters, but because the characters he played are being handed down thoughtfully and intentionally. Too often in the world of a Muppet fan the news of recasting is due to the death of a performer or a messy firing. Even in cases where the characters were being shared before the loss of the original performer, death still seems to mark the passing of generations within the world of Muppets. But not this time. This time we can celebrate the work that has been done with the celebrant joining in the festivities.

Serving God along side all of you, 

Just from further away

Jesse Letourneau

Deadites, D-Day, and Departures (Part One) aka A Romans 12:15 Kinda Day

Those of you who read my facebook wall, may have seen the occasional “a Romans 12:15 kinda day” posts. The idea behind those comes from the Bible verse Romans 12:15: “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” This verse has been a part of how I approach life and ministry for a number of years now.

At first, it was simply an admonishment to be present with those who are near. If they are grieving, it is right that we grieve with them. If they are celebrating, it is right that we celebrate with them. Then I saw those ancient words as permission to both rejoice and weep. If someone has sorrow, I can enter their sorrow. If someone else has joy, I can enter their joy and not belittle or betray the sorrow of the other. Both are possible to hold.

This is where the idea of a Romans 12:15 kinda day came from. It is a day where social media, ministry, or life itself brings me moments of great sorrow and of great joy. I am always privileged to enter into those spaces and grateful for the opportunity to reflect on the complexity of our time here. The Romans 12:15 days that get posted are the ones that are easy to define. A day with preschool chapel and a funeral, a day of floods and fires contrasted with weddings and graduations, a day of funeral and a high school play. Funerals tend to remind me of Romans 12:15.

Because funerals are more than just a day of simple grieving. They add to how I understand what it means to rejoice and to weep with those who do the same. In a funeral service there is joy, there is hope. It is not just a day of the past, but one of the future as well. And while certainly each funeral has these pieces in differing percentages, I recently attended a funeral that masterfully carried the balance of these things.

The funeral was for a man I never had the privilege of meeting. His name is Donald Rothwell. He was on the beaches of Normandy. That isn’t the most interesting thing about him, but I needed to mention it to tie it into the title. Don was a man by all accounts who brought joy with him into every space he encountered. He taught, he volunteered, he loved well, he was a tea teetotaler, and the north star to an amazing family. He served in the church where I now serve for nearly twice as long as I have been alive. When we remember a long life, lived well, it is easier to see lost as bitter sweet; as a time of weeping and rejoicing; as a Romans 12:15 kinda day.

That evening I found myself in high school auditorium anticipating a musical based on the Evil Dead films. If you are not familiar with the Evil Dead franchise the short version is this: five high school students go to a remote cabin in the woods where cultist, trees, and zombies (aka the Evil Dead aka Deadites (again see title) attack. Then of course hilarity ensues. At least in the musical version.

That evening was absolutely a celebration of the hard work of the cast and crew as well as celebration of unbridled silliness. It was also a celebration of the macabre. Laughing in the face of death is another way to rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep. In the play no one really dies, they come back as the aforementioned Evil Dead. While the majority of the cast end the play covered in blood, it is stage blood. The audience is in on the joke. We know this all done tongue in cheek. Death has lost both its power and its sting.

That day I attended two services, heard two stories. One was a formal service with the story of Don Rothwell told by those whose lives he impacted. The other was an informal service dressed as a high school play where the story included a singing moose. A mixture of tears and laughter, grief and joy, celebration and remembrance. Certainly in different percentages, but there none the less.

A Romans 12:15 kinda day.

--Serving God alongside all of you, just from further away

--Jesse Letourneau

Me, "Linda", her mom, and a family friend

Roots

Journey, Packing, Unpacking, Quests, Beginnings, Endings, even a Thai String Ceremony or two. I have gone through quite a few metaphors to try and describe the journey I have been on the last nine and a half years. At each stop I learned. At each stop I grew. At each stop there was a time to move on. Some I was ready for, while others took me by surprise.

Last time I wrote about being in between. What I have come to realize is that I am also on the verge of. I am on the verge of staying in one place. I am on the verge of putting down roots.

At my interview with First United Methodist, they asked about my resume. They asked why I hadn't stayed in any one place for very long. It is a fair question. Seven Churches in nine and a half years is great experience, but it makes one wonder if that person has plans to stick around. I described the reason that each stop had come to an end. I let them know that I have always planned to stick around. Yet somehow each place simply didn't have a place to stick. Some places, like seminary, were designed to be liminal. Other places simply weren't the place where I was meant to land. And so they asked if I were to be given the job if I would want to stay.

I want to stay. I want to lay down roots.

The Bible says that since we don't control tomorrow, we are not to declare what tomorrow will hold. But, we are allowed to dream. to desire. We are allowed to want to stay in one place. We are allowed to want our roots to run deep.

Now, don't misunderstand me. I love that my roots run wide. I cherish each person, each memory, each lesson. But my dream, my desire is to stay in one place. To grow roots that run deep.

All of this moving means that I don't own any furniture (who wants to move a couch that many times), and that many of the physical items that hold memories for me have been tucked away in boxes, some for years at a time.

One of these items is a simple metal toy car. This car sat on father's desk. I don't know where he got the car or if it had any significance for him. When he died, it was one of the totems that I took for my own. It has lived on shelves and been tucked away in plastic tubs. It has traveled with me not just these last nine and half years, but has journeyed with me the last twenty-eight years.

Tubs and timing have kept it from being on my desk. That is until now.

Today it sits on my desk.

Placing that small car on my desk at First United Methodist is a small gesture. Yet, that small gesture has, for me, great significance. It states that here is where I wish to stay. It is here I wish for my roots to grow deep.

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

In Between

In between boxes.
In between learning a town and a church.
In between between thoughts.

To end my last Youth Group at Cal Heights, the pastor and the youth laid hands on me, and four high school boys prayed aloud.

In between packing offices, and houses, unpacking storage units, and then packing all of that into a Hyundai Sonata, there was plenty left behind. Some of which I will miss. Some of which needed to stay in the past.

The timing of all this meant I left on my mom's birthday. It was a bitter sweet morning of waffles and good-byes.

Another farewell service, and more hands, and more prayers. And tears and laughter. I was sent from Cal Heights with blessings and resources, both physical and spiritual.
(And Doug don't think I didn't notice the prayers and hymns spoke of journey that morning. Thank you for that service.)

Then the drive began. The drive in between California and Florida.

From palm trees to desert to the home of friends. Late night reminiscence and news of a new pastorate. A morning of eggs, bacon, and theology.

Then onto the orange and blue that I have every only seen in New Mexico, along with a flash rainstorm, a rainbow at the check point, and the beginning of Texas.

From a Holiday Inn to a home. My home. The place that sheltered me for a year. The place where my family lives. Like actual blood relation family. That I like being around. I don't take that lightly.

I got to re-meet my nieces, both of whom give fantastic hugs and pick out the best books.

Breakfast and a coffee with colleagues. Each a reminder of how much I am loved.

More time with family, more hugs, and a breakfast.

Then back on the road.
Texas, Louisiana, Alabama, Florida, and a Holiday Inn.

From there to an office where I picked up keys and unpacked my car.
Still unpacking the boxes, but slowly the apartment is becoming a home.

A home.

I have called so many places a home.
Cities like Auburn.
Like Occidental.
Long Beach.
Chicago.
Houston.
and now Gainesville.

So many churches have been home.
EV Free.
Neighborhood.
Calvary.
Immanuel.
CCP.
CANVAS.
Kindred.
Cal Heights.
and now First UMC.

So many people have been home for me.
Greg and Meredith.
Sean and Becky.
Adam Kline.
Bret.
Adam and Sara.
My mom and dad.
And then just my mom.
Jeff, J.P., other Jeff, and the Breakfast Crew.
J.R., Julie, Joe, and the Underground.
Doug, Kathy, and Owen.
and now.

Now is the in-between. That isn't to say that I haven't been welcomed. That isn't to say I don't have some likely suspects. But people who become family, faces that become home, those take time.

To change your address is simple. It is done online.
To change a church is harder, but I have been very fortunate in that regard.
To change your family. Well, you don't do that. It just kinda happens.

You find yourself posing for pictures on an Easter morning, with people you aren't related to.
You find yourself asking what time we are leaving for the Super Bowl Party, before you even ask for a ride to the Super Bowl Party.
You find yourself at a Seder Meal with your board gaming group.
You find yourself at a coffee, where you assume the questions will revolve around your new responsibilities, and instead you find yourself being asked about your soul.

And honestly, you find your self.

Starting a new gig, in a new place it is easy to look back, to take stock. When you have been to so many places it is easy to think that maybe it is you and not them.

But, as I take stock, I remember each place, each person, each home. I see what I gave. I see what I gained. I am excited to take all of that and bring it to this new home. I am excited to see what I will gain here. I am excited to see what I will give here. I am excited to learn how I will grow.

I am excited to learn in what ways, this new place will become my new home.

My new home

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away,
--Jesse Letourneau

Transitions part 2 aka Apple Tree

The idea for my last blog had been kicking around my mind for a few weeks. Then I received some news that made the topic of transitions germane to my current situation.

In May, I was told that my current position of Coordinator of Children's and Youth Ministries was to be eliminated here at Cal Heights, in order to make room for an Associate Pastorate position to be filled through the placement process of the United Methodist Church. Thus I began a search for a new calling.

Resumes went out, "not an interview" (but really an interview) conversations with pastors were had, Skype interviews were held, and offers to fly out and visit churches were extended.

June rolled around and change continued. I spent a weekend in Gainesville, Florida falling in love with a church and its surrounding community, the Associate Pastorate position was no longer going to be placed at Cal Heights this summer, and the church in Gainesville offered me the position of Director of Children, Youth, and Family Ministries.  That all took place over the course of nine days.

So where does that leave us? The United Methodist District here in California is still looking to place an Associate Pastorate sometime in the future. Which means I have two positions available to me. One that is open ended and one that quite possibly may end in a year's time.

I have accepted the position at First United Methodist of Gainseville. I will end my time at Cal Heights on Sunday, July 15.

There is much to grieve, and there is much to celebrate.

And there is the great task of finishing well.

Central to my philosophy of Children's Ministry, and really central to my life is the idea of paying attention to what is in front of me; paying attention to what I have to accomplish today. Being present to what God has for me. Being present to what God has for others that I am to be a part of.

Luther is quoted as saying that if he knew tomorrow was his last day he would still "plant (his) apple tree today."






Luther's quote speaks of duty and commitment. Worrying not about the future but caring for the needs of today. The quote also speaks of hope. For this allegorical apple tree will grow, it will bloom, and it will nourish others long after Luther is gone. The work of today impacts the growth of tomorrow. Even when we are not there to see it.

I know that my time left at Cal Heights (and for that matter my time already spent here) will plant seeds. Seeds that others will water, and still others will harvest.

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

Transitions

Top Left July 16, 2017; Top Right Jan. 24, 2018
Bottom Right Feb. 27, 2017:; Bottom Left: May 15, 2017

During my second year of seminary in Chicago, I took a (nearly) weekly picture of the view from my front door. At the end of the year I turned these photos into a time lapsed video. It is still one of my favorite projects I have ever done.

Video

I tried to repeat the idea during my last semester of seminary. This time the bridge over a tiny tributary of the Chicago River was the subject.

Video

I don't think it turned out as well as the first one, but it was an exercise that kept me present during that semester of transition. Even as I rewatch the video today, I am reminded of that bridge, the housing it led to and the campus it lead away from. Memories across my four years at North Park flood my mind. That small space in Chicago is filled with laughter and tears, joy, doubt, fear, certainty, rejection, acceptance, and so much more.

In times of change, I believe it is important to look ahead, to plan ahead, to ready oneself for what is next. Like the titular ant of the Aesop Fable, it is good in the summer to plan for the winter.

In times of change, I believe it is important to stay grounded and present. To leave the worry of tomorrow for tomorrow and participate in the joy of today. Like the titular Grasshopper, it is important to run, sing, and dance while the sun still shines.

In January of 2017, I began a brand new adventure in Copperopolis, CA (Yes it is a real city, and no it is not home to "Copper Man"). I also began taking pictures for a new video. Those of you who follow me on Facebook may remember all the pictures I kept posting of that "same" sandwich.

The goal was to make a video where the tree in the background exhibited the changing seasons. I arrived in Copper after the leaves had fallen, and my journey took me away from that tree (and those sandwiches) just as the foliage of new life had begun to appear. I decided not to cut that video together.

In July of 2017, I began a new adventure in Long Beach, CA. Those of you who follow me on Facebook may have noticed I have been posting the "same" picture of the steeple of my new church. Peeking into the frame of those photos is a tree who I hoped would tell the story of the passage of time through the colors adorning its branches.

As I watched the branches of that tree transitioned from green, to pink, to bare, to green again, I thought this video project just might work out. Then the city, for completely legitimate safety reasons, removed that tree. And while my project stopped there. I have continued to take (nearly) weekly pictures of the steeple, because this church and my role in it are important to me.

These reflections of where I have been and where I am, serve as personal reminders that we can borrow from the past, but never repeat it. We can notice the patterns of what has come before, but they serve only as clues, not certainties of what lies ahead.

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

It is all a matter of where you focus

To be honest the last five or six weeks I have been focusing on the darkness. The darkness of evil, sin, sickness, human unkindness. I have been preoccupied with the needs of my family, my friends, my neighborhood, my church. I have been enveloped by the darkness of my own soul.

I have looked at the problems without looking at the solutions. I have seen only the shadows while denying the existence of the light.

Today, when I woke up, the weather matched my heart. Cloudy, cold, and rainy.


As the day went on, the rain broke, and sun arrived for just a few brief moments. Inspired by these fleeting rays, I grabbed my camera and headed out to catch the first hints of spring struggling to be seen despite the gloom. By the time I stepped outside, the sun was once again hidden, but the evidence of spring was still evident, if I would just look for it.

As I searched for color and light, I found that I was soon relying on the macro setting and zoom to frame my shots so that only the water drops and traces of color from the first blooms of the season were in focus, while denying the context of what was just out of frame.

My attention swung from preoccupation with darkness to a preoccupation of light. Extremes are seldom healthy. So I took a step back. I took shots of things "as they were". Then I used the zoom to draw attention to color that might go unnoticed.

These blooms were there yesterday, but I didn't noticed them. Hope was there yesterday, but I didn't stop to notice it.

This exercise in photography was an exercise in paying attention. To notice what is around me. To notice the joy that I often ignore.

A selection of this exercise can be found here.

--Serving Him alongside all of you, Just from farther away
--Jesse Letourneau

Same Song Next Verse

In 2016, I received a call that shook my understanding of who I was called to be.
In 2017, I had regained a sense of my calling and thought I had found the place where it was to be fulfilled.

I was wrong.

When I moved to northern California, in January of last year I believed I was beginning a journey of change for myself and for the church that had hired me. I believed that my vision and strengths had been sought out and understood to be the compliment needed to help that congregation stretch and grow.

I was wrong.

The easiest narrative is to understand those six months as a waste of time or at best a mistake. It would be easy to simply write that time off as a loss and plow ahead.

But then, I would be wrong.

A friend of mine once kindly summarized one of my blogs (the one I wrote after taking the job in Copperopolis) this way: We often have no idea why we are where we are, but we may be finding things we wouldn't find anywhere else.

The phone call that rocked my world took place on Feb 10. In less than a year, I was working in Copper. In less than six months, that was no longer true. And now February 10 of 2018 has come and gone, and I find myself in yet a new context.

I realize I have yet to mentioned on this blog that I am now the full time Coordinator for Children's, Family, and Youth Ministry at Cal Heights United Methodist Church. What I do know is the lessons I learned during those six months, I use on a daily basis now.

There is much to write about this new context, but I want to spend some time on Feb 10 of this year. The picture posted at the top of this blog was taken Feb 10, 2018.

I was in Angelus Oaks, CA on retreat. But I wasn't there on retreat for myself (though I returned home having received gifts I didn't even know I needed). I was there for a youth group retreat hosted by three other local UMC churches from the area. We had forty kids in attendance, four from Cal Heights. In those three short days, I learned about my kids, how they see each other, the world around them, and even a little about how they see God. (I would also note that I learned a little about how they see me, but since they might be reading this, I won't include that bit).

I have found a church where who I was made to be is welcomed. This new context is one of Trust, Support, Encouragement, and Challenge. I feel like myself when I wake up each day.

In 2016, I needed hope and looked to a simple painting of a blue-purple-ish weirdo to hold that hope for me.

In 2017, I was grateful to be in a better place, and that a simple painting of a blue-purple-ish weirdo could remind me of that fact.

In 2018, I am fulfilled to know that I am in an even better place, and that a simple photo of a blue-purple-ish sunset reminds of that fact.


--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

The good news I am staying busy. The bad news is I don't have the time to update the blog as often as I would like. Hoping to figure out a schedule that rectifies that.

Recasting

1955-1990                                                          1990-2017

It has been a while since we talked Muppets on the site. And it just so happens there is Muppet news that I have thoughts on. It was announced on July 10th of this year that the current performer for Kermit the Frog, Steve Whitmire, would be stepping down.

Much of the noise around this announcement as boiled down to age old troupes of Creator vs. Corporation. And in my humble opinion there is no clear good guy in this announcement.  From what I have heard and read I believe both parties actions led to this divorce of artist from the business of the Muppets. And I am not really interested in declaring a winner. What follows are just some of my thoughts and reflections on the news.

Muppet performers are more than voice actors. While there are times where one person will puppeteer and a voice is dubbed over, the standard for the Muppets has long been that movement and voice originate from the same performer. This marriage of movement and sound leads to character. More than that it leads to a character. Fans of the Muppets often refer to the performer as the soul of the character. So when these characters change hands, they do more than change voice actors. A recasting for the Muppets isn't simply a matter of inflection or pitch that is changed, the character themselves undergo a change.

And yes, I did just use the words character, soul, and self to describe two half ping pong balls glued onto a scrap of green fabric. But that is what makes the Muppets so great. At there core the Muppets are a magic trick. I know that they are felt and foam. I know that there is a rod holding their arms up, and a human being manipulating all of it just below frame. However, like with all good magic, it is not a matter of suspension of disbelief or nostalgia or even a sense of imagination that causes me to care about these characters. It is the fact that I forget that they are just foam and felt. I forget that they aren't real. My mind is taken to a place where reality is bent and pigs can sing, bears tell jokes, and frogs can dance.

The first time Kermit was recast was in 1990 following the death of Jim Henson. Jim's death led to questions about the future of the Muppets. News then came out that the Muppets would continue. This led to the question whether the character of Kermit would continue. News then came out that Kermit would be recast. This led to the question of whether Kermit would be the same if someone else preformed him.

Now various Muppets have changed performers in the past. And for the most part, even when it is different, the trick is still pretty good. But this news in not merely about a new performer hoping to recreate the same magic. This is about Kermit.

If the performer is the soul of the character, then Kermit is the soul of the Muppets. And this reason is simple. Kermit was created whole cloth (if you will excuse the pun) by the man who created the Muppets. I am referring of course to Jim Henson. And to many fans, Kermit wasn't just a creation of Jim, but a reflection. Jim didn't find the character of Kermit. Rather Kermit reflected the character of Jim.

Steve's interpretation of Kermit was rocky at first. And fan debates about the quality of "Jim's Kermit" vs. "Steve's Kermit" continued for many years.  (and still do). For me personally, Steve's Kermit recently became simply Kermit. Character and performer had found their groove. In the midst of the changes brought to these characters over the last two plus decades, Kermit was just finally Kermit again.

And now we move to a new era of the Muppets. Soon we will see the third version of Kermit.

This transition in many ways mirrors my own. I too am stepping into a new role.

I am five weeks into my role as Coordinator of Ministries to Children, Youth and Families at California Heights United Methodist Church.

I am also stepping into the role of caretaker for my mother (her doctor is still trying to find the right balance of meds to keep her heart rate, heart rhythm, and blood pressure all in working order, while also working to maintain blood flow through the stint in her right artery.)

And like Steve, I step into these roles not as originator but as follower. At Cal Heights I follow the person who held the position before me. And in my role with my mother I follow myself. For once my role as son was to be cared for, and now it is to care for.

Next time I will reflect on where I have been and how I got here.

--Serving Him alongside all of you, just from further away
--Jesse Letourneau

Recasting Jim's charcters