Strange Days

The meeting with the Trinity Staff-Parish Relations Committee had a very odd feel to it. I’d gone through the process enough times before to discern that this was comparatively different. First, Nate didn’t even pretend to be recommending me as John Cox’s replacement. Instead, he was very matter-of-fact that if the S-PRC wanted Cox gone, I was the one who would replace him. Second, Don Smith was definitely not assuming the role of a senior pastor as he acquiesced to the goings-on. Paul Standish and Preston Howard (these are names to remember) essentially took on the role of speaking for the local congregation. Finally, it became very apparent before the meeting was finished that John Cox had no idea what was happening. It was peculiar that there was no mention made of walking through the parsonage (one of the indications of clergy status in the UMC is owning one’s home, which the Smith’s did; this is also another item for future reference), and I didn’t feel particularly comfortable with the line of questioning that was better suited to a senior pastor than an associate. Once my tentative appointment to Trinity was formalized, Nate, Don and I went to the Blueberry Hill restaurant on Decatur for an informal debriefing. Nate was the one who clarified that the chief complaint with Cox was that he never showed up for work; meaning, I guess, that he didn’t come to his office every day. Don was curiously ambiguous about anything and everything (I later learned the reason for his lack of interest in our working relationship), and spent the remainder of our time together going through the perfunctory niceties. Knowing that I was flying back to Nebraska the next day, I asked if it would be possible for me to see the parsonage before I left. Both Nate and Don hemmed and hawed, but finally agreed to tell John that Nate and I would be coming by the next morning. I didn’t sleep very well that night.