Deacon Reflection: From the Organ Loft to the Altar

By The Rev. David Lynch

We never know where life is going to take us.

As a preacher’s kid living next door to the First Baptist Church in a small town, I knew that I was supposed to grow up to be a pastor like my father, whom I loved and admired deeply. And I loved the church — practically lived in it — became an avid R.A. (Royal Ambassador), dutifully attended Sunday School and B.T.U. (Baptist Training Union), learned to type, cut the stencil for the Sunday bulletin, run the mimeograph machine, fold the bulletins — all those things that the oldest son of the local minister could do. I even operated the remote console for the local radio station broadcast of the 11a.m. service.

But what really called to me was the music, especially the majestic sounds of the mighty organ which set the tone for the morning and evening worship services. I had begun piano lessons when I was eight, and at age 13 my parents asked if I would like to learn to play the organ. The answer was YES! From that day on, I was in love with the organ, its expansive literature, its infinite colors, and, most of all, its spiritual connection to the faith that I professed with all my heart. One day, as I was learning a piece by César Franck, I was moved to tears, convinced that only the hand of God could conceive a work of such beauty and perfection. From then on, my passion was the organ and its music, and any thoughts of pulpit ministry were relegated to the far corners of my unconscious. Little did I know that those suppressed impulses would emerge much later.

For me, the course was set, and my parents, though disappointed, were completely supportive. I was one of the privileged ones, receiving scholarships and fellowships through three degrees from prestigious music schools and going on to realize my dream of becoming a college professor, department head and organist-choirmaster of a major church.

I loved each of my activities — teaching, advising, administering, consulting, directing a church music program — and I understood them as ministry, but something was still missing in my life. Searching to find that missing element, I took a one-year sabbatical at Duke Divinity School as a visiting scholar and drank deeply from the well of that fine institution. I tucked that experience away for future reference, inspired to continue my work at Meredith College and Christ Church for another fifteen years. I returned to Duke for a second sabbatical and, after two more years, retired from full-time teaching at Meredith. Meanwhile, I entered the discernment process, including conferences with then-the Rt. Rev. Michael Curry, regular spiritual direction, an internship, interviews with the Commission on Ministry and, finally, ordination.

During that transition, I spent four years at Rex Hospital as an intern and resident in the Clinical Pastoral Education program. To my surprise, I discovered a deep passion for hospital chaplaincy and learned so very much about ministry and about myself. Although the structure of CPE does not permit long-term continuation, I still cherish the opportunity to share God’s love with parishioners and friends in the hospital setting. Pastoral care, whether at home, in the hospital, in counseling, even in the hospice, feeds me at least as much as I am able to care for others.

So now, seven years after ordination, I find my life to be in a wonderful balance. My beloved wife (of 52 years), children and grandchildren understand and affirm my call to diaconal service. At the Church of the Nativity, I feel fully supported as I continue to exercise my passion for pastoral care, worship, teaching, preaching and outreach. After all those years of providing musical leadership, it is deeply moving to administer the bread and the wine and to assist in the liturgy from the altar instead of the choir loft. At Nativity, lay involvement in outreach is powerful; often I find myself in a supportive, rather than leadership, role. I am fortunate to remain involved in music, as an adjunct professor at Meredith and an instructor in the N. C. State lifelong learning program (OLLI); but other work now feeds my soul. And I never cease to be surprised by the varied ways in which God calls me to service.

In the last four years, I have discovered urban ministry. As chaplain for St. Saviour’s Outreach Center in downtown Raleigh, I have joined a community of folks of limited resources, racially and ethnically diverse, many of them physically challenged, who depend on Meals on Wheels and subsidized housing — a completely different group from the church and collegiate populations whom I have served for most of my life. Together we talk, pray, join in hymn sings, take morning group walks and field trips to local museums, and share in occasional services of remembrance and healing. These dear souls accept me as a fellow member of the community who cares about them. To them, I am just “David,” not “Dr. Lynch,” and we walk the path of love together as we continue to learn from each other. We are all God’s beloved children — all ages, all races, all economic and social groups — and it is fulfilling to share in God’s work with all of them.

One of the most deeply touching encounters I had was during a memorial/healing service at Carriage House, a subsidized living facility served by St. Saviour’s, last month. A resident who had recently lost her adult daughter came for anointing and healing prayers. As I prayed with her, she sobbed and we hugged each other, sharing her grief and God’s love and compassion. She has no idea how much she ministered to me as I comforted her.

I am so grateful for all these life experiences, and for the privilege of continuing to carry out my ministry in each of these roles. Who knows what God may yet have in store for me?