It was supposed to be a routine pastoral visit, you know: a pre-surgery prayer, a brief discussion about what was expected on the other side of the procedure. A: “When do they say you get to go home?” or “Will you have to do rehab?” It was questionable as to whether or not a visit was even warranted. This wasn’t a church member who expected a lot of attention, a phone call that afternoon would have been sufficient, but this was a ruling elder I’d grown close to over the years so I decided to go and let her know I’d be thinking about her, fully expecting she’d be back in the pew soon and in attendance at the next session meeting.

She was one of my outspoken elders around the table. She was more evangelical than most of that flock and she talked in terms that made some buttoned up Presbyteria…