Christmas is fast approaching and I have 5 Christmas Eve services planned. 1 for kids, 1 Contemporary, and 3 Traditional. Truthfully, it is way more services than we probably need. Each service can hold 250 people – we have 600 members and average 330 people in worship per Sunday. Last year, Christmas Eve attendance was around 350 people.
All month, I have been distributing cards with service times to every person I meet – delivery guys at the church, counter clerks in overcrowded retail centers, dropping them along with extravagant tips for waitresses; I’ve gone on the radio and announced the services; shared at our local elementary school Christmas program; we have put them up on are marquise; have e-vites from our all new website (www.stjohnsumccc.com) being sent; the congregation has been urged to invite anyone they know, don’t know, or see from across a busy street; and I’ve been fasting and praying.
At the end of the day, I would rather have way too many services planned – work myself to the end of my strength – and stand with confidence before the Lord and declare that I have done everything I could think of to share the Gospel message – the Good News that is for ALL people: Jesus Christ, the One and Only, the son of God and the Savior of man has been born.
I cannot be still, I cannot be silent. I cannot take it easy.
Next month Christmas will be over, but the message rolls on.
I think in January, I’ll go door to door.
There are a great many reasons why the good people of the Southwest Texas Conference should be grateful for our brothers and sisters in the Rio Grande Conference, but these days one reasons stands above the rest.
We owe our colleagues in ministry a debt of gratitude for their nomination of Rev. Eradio Valverde to the Episcopacy of the South Central Jurisdiction.
Rev. Valverde represents the best of our connectional system. He has shown great success in the local church, connectional ministry, and is frankly a gifted superintendent of the Corpus Christi area. As we face a probable unification between our two conferences, the Rio Grande showed a depth of leadership that our united annual conference will need.
In a time that so many people are intent on dividing our connection, Rio Grande has nominated a uniter. In Rev. Valverde we find someone who has demonstrated excellence in leadership in a primarily Spanish speaking conference and in a primarily Anglo conference. In this, he is a rare individual.
Beyond the list of his many accomplishments found on his resume, I submit to you a few very personal interactions with my District Superintendent, Rev. Eradio Valverde.
On the day I moved into the district, he arrived on my front porch with breakfast tacos for me, my family, and our movers. A few days later, he was back with a small ivy plant with a note inviting me to “Grow with the Corpus Christi” by focusing on the power of prayer, putting passion into the pulpit, and purpose in the pews. That ivy has grown to be a huge plant – one that I take clippings of to deliver to new home owners in our church’s area; inviting them to, you guessed it, “come grow with us.” His leadership works because he leads by example.
Finally, I sent Rev. Valverde a text message asking if he would let me know the next time he would be at my church. My wife wanted to join the church and she and I wanted for me to be able to stand next to her as her husband rather than before her as her pastor. Rev. Valverde immediately responded, “I’ll be at your first service Sunday morning.”
He has the institutional know how, the experience of leading in multicultural, multigenerational ministry settings, and the personal character and love for the church to make an exemplary bishop.
So, thank you Rio Grande Conference. Thank you for your inspirational leadership. I join with the Southwest Texas Conference delegation in celebrating your endorsement of our colleague in ministry and brother in Christ.
I have a ranking system for friendships. It is a tried and true system which was greatly enhanced by a particular episode of Seinfeld. For years I have had four classes of friends: “yes, I know you†class; “friend†class; “airport†class; and “moving†class.
To be in the “yes, I know you†class requires very little effort on anyone’s part. Generally speaking, if we are able to get through an initial introduction without overtly insulting one another you are now a “yes, I know you†friend. Entering the “friend†class requires a lot more effort on everyone’s part. This level of friendship means that I trust you to be loyal and honest. Someone inhabiting the “friend†class will find my feet under their dining room table or theirs under mine.
“Airport†class friends are rare. These are people who you allow to see you very early in the morning on your way to the airport or very late at night when you come stumbling out of the airport looking and smelling like every minute of your travel time. Likewise, it is a special friend for whom you will rise early or stay up late to shuttle back and forth to the airport. My highest class of friend has for years been: “moving†class. These are people you are willing to help wrap dishes, move sofas, and pour sweat. On the other side, these are the people who you are willing to let help you move – to see what is under the bed, in the drawers, and behind the fridge; all without judging you.
This class system of friendship has served me well through the years until just recently. A couple of weeks ago, I had to add a friend class to my system.
When he stepped off the plane in Kigali, Rwanda Mitch McManus defined a new class of friend in Ryan’s world: “Africa Class.â€
It is one thing to give someone a ride to the airport or even labor the day away carrying appliances from one residence to another. It is a completely other level of friendship that propels you to board an airplane for over 30 hours of travel (one way) to spend a week in a developing nation just to spend time with your friends. Mitch came visited us in Africa – not that he visited Africa with us, he visited US in AFRICA!
Kim & I had such an amazing time with our good friend. We spent time on adventures and just hanging out. Mitch and I scaled a volcano together and sat with the last of the great Mountain Gorillas. We shared meals. We shared our favorite joke about whether something we are eating is ok to eat: “Well, we will know in 12 hours.â€
We played cards in an edenaic setting while Adrian Peterson, Roy Williams, and a number of other NFL pros were being interviewed about their medical mission in Rwanda. We ate at Heaven (and Mitch is still regretting not ordering that banana split!). Kim & I were treated to breakfasts that Mitch cooked up for us.
I watched as Mitch walked hand in hand with one of Rwanda’s greatest spiritual leaders and possibly the most respected man in the nation: Bishop John Rucyahana. He was here with us when the call came in that I was being appointed to St. John’s UMC in Corpus Christi. Throughout it all, it was clear that Mitch’s favorite part of Rwanda was spending time with Kim & me.
“Africa Class Friend†is defined by its charter member and I can’t think of a better man to give meaning to the truest level of friendship.
I learn new things about my friend Nathan every time we get together. The depth of his love and compassion continue to take me by surprise. On this trip, Nathan introduced me to his son, Latimer. Having met Nathan & Esther’s three children – Jonathan, Elizabeth, & Joshua, I was confused by who Latimer might be.
Latimer’s mom was a Rwandese woman who married a Ugandan man. She was his youngest wife (of four). Latimer is one of the sons of the youngest wife of an African polygamist. His youngest siblings are twins – which in Ugandan culture is a special blessing. Fearing that Latimer’s mom would receive undo attention and fortune because of her twins, one of his other wives poisoned Latimer’s father. At the time, Latimer was very young, though he does have some memories of a loving man who would entertain his children with small games.
Fearing for her young family, Latimer’s mom took her children to the city of Kampala, Uganda where she met a young Rwandese pastor named, Nathan Amooti. Nathan helped Latimer receive a sponsorship from Compassion International which allowed him to begin his schooling. His Compassion International sponsorship would pay for his primary and secondary school education. Latimer’s mom went to work for Nathan at one of his schools – working in administration.
While Latimer was away at secondary school, his mom died of AIDS. Before she died, Nathan promised to help look out for her children. Latimer was 16 years old when his mom passed. He went home, buried her on a Friday, and returned to school to sit for National Exams on Monday.
Shortly after he became an orphan, Latimer discovered that there were two paths available to him in life. He began drinking alcohol and smoking marijuana with some of his peers at school. After a particularly scary night of over-indulgence, Latimer found himself sitting in chapel as a call to renewing yourself in Christ came. He stood up and went to the front. Latimer recalls, “I wanted to make a new start, but I knew that required repentance. At the time the school was being very tough on alcohol and drug use. I thought they would probably expel me when they found out about my activities. Still, I wanted to be a new creation, so I stood at the front of chapel and confessed my sins and asked for new life in Christ.â€
Latimer was called to the headmaster’s office. He suspected that this would be the end of his education. Instead, the headmaster commended Latimer for making a new start. He asked him to promise that he would never participate in those things again. He also asked Latimer for the names of the boys who also needed help. Latimer didn’t hesitate in giving up his friends. Having looked down a dark road, Latimer was happy to help his friends discover the joy he had found in coming clean. His friends were called in and also confessed, making a new start of their lives. Latimer reports, “They were really grateful that I helped give them a push to Christ.â€
At the time, Latimer was unsure about his future. Compassion International sponsorships end at age 18. Wanting to move forward with his education, Latimer once again received an answer to prayer through the church. A Dutch woman of some acquaintance of his mom offered to personally sponsor Latimer through his University years. With her support he began his years of higher education.
Though he was interested in the arts, Latimer chose to study Business Finance & Administration as it held more promising opportunities to support himself. After he graduated, he realized that the kinds of opportunities available to him in Uganda were limited. He called his adopted father, Nathan and asked for guidance. Nathan invited him to come to Rwanda and stay with him. For the last two years, Latimer has lived with Nathan & his “auntie Esther,†while working as the Financial Director for the Star School (one of Nathan’s schools outside of Kigali). This is a similar post that his mom held with Nathan all those years before.
Today, Latimer is a well spoken and bright young man. His future and potential are unlimited.
Latimer and I had the opportunity to share a boys night out at the Hotel Mill Collines recently. We sat by the pool sipping Fantas and talking about life. I asked Latimer what he wants to do with his life. His response is indicative of the man he has become. He wants to do something to serve his community – to help lift others up out of difficult circumstances. He spoke of what his Compassion International sponsorship & the generosity of the Dutch lady meant to him. He wants to be in a position to similarly help young people rise.
Latimer currently serves as the Financial Director of a growing school. Soon he will give senior leadership to another secondary school here in Kigali. He teaches students about how to appreciate the gifts they have been given. He reminds them that education is a gift and an opportunity not to be wasted. He also offers second chances to those who need them. Latimer is a living example of the grace and mercy of Jesus Christ. He reminds us all of the power of generosity and how helping to change a single life can radically change an entire community.
This is Part 2 of Kim’s blog: Part 1: It’s ok to pick up hitchhikers in Africa … right?  If you haven’t yet read it, you need to go to www.kimbarnettpac.blogspot.com and do that first, then come back here for the rest of the story!
Ok, got it so far? Good.
We are on our way back from Butare rolling down the rural road toward Kigali. Kim is at the wheel and I am enjoying the scenery and happily snapping pictures.
As we approached a village center, I spotted the two policemen who stand at the roadside and provide for law and order on the streets. As the one who drives most frequently, I have picked up a few tricks to successfully navigating police checkpoints. Ok, I have one trick: I stick my arm out the window so that they can see that I am white. I have found that this typically prevents my detainment. Actually, it saves us all the embarrassment of me getting pulled over for a driver’s license check only to discover my Texas Driver’s License is illegible to the Rwandese Police. When our car gets flagged and I pull over, they look inside, pause, and then 50% of the time they just smile and waive me on. During that pause, I see the “uh oh†look just before they either waive me through or decide to “inspect†my permits.
So, when Kim failed to stick her arm out the window and we got flagged over, I had a nice little giggle.
Kim pulled the car to a stop. The policeman came around the car, looked in, paused as “uh oh†spread across his face and then decided to proceed with his business.
Cop: Muraho (hello).
Kim: Muraho (hello).
Cop: Amakuru (how are things?)
Kim: Ne Meza (things are good).
Cop: Mweialdh tdkhdsfsdifhajsdofhasdoifhd ofitohohtapohofjoemrosht htpiuohueinnadsg thbatubghptwireub ndklfnasd btwetbiwu. (???????????)
Kim: uhhhh
Cop: uhhhh
Kim: Icyongereza? (English?)
Cop: English? (icyongereza?)
Kim: Yes, English.
Cop: oh. Give ride?
Kim: (Looking at me) What?
Ryan: I think he wants a ride.
Kim: uh.
Cop: (Smiling).
Kim: uh.
Cop: (More smiling).
Kim: (quietly to me) I mean, we kind of have to right?
Ryan: Yep.
Cop: (Even more smiling).
Kim: uh. Ok.
So, I start throwing all of our packages (snack bag, back pack, rain jackets, souvenirs) over the back seat into the boot. In retrospect, I can see how quickly shoveling brown paper bags out of view of the police before letting them into the car might seem shady, but sincerely, I was just trying to make room.
I finished clearing them a space and Kim signaled it was ok for them to enter. So, in crawled two very tall, very serious looking Rwandan police men. The older cop was wearing the requisite reflective green vest. The younger cop was carrying the requisite Kalashnikov rifle. Yep, two armed African men and their rifle in the back of our SUV. Just like home, really.
The older cop did all the talking, though the younger one seemed to know more English. I introduced myself and Kim did likewise. After introducing themselves, the spokesman asked if Kim & I were together. I told him she was my wife. They both smiled and nodded affirmatively.
Cop: She is very beautiful.
Ryan: uh.
Cop: Oh, perhaps I should not say this?
Ryan: No, you are right – she is beautiful. I say it all the time!
It turns out that the policeman was a former RPF officer who fought for the liberation of his nation and worked to stop the genocide. Kim and I were both wearing purple and he asked if we were wearing the color to show that we were with the people of Rwanda during this hard time (we are currently in the period of mourning over the genocide and purple is the color of their remembrance). I assured him that Kim and I are both most definitely with them.
It wasn’t long before the policemen indicated that we had arrived where they needed to be let out. As they were getting out of the car, I asked if we could take a picture with them. No photo. These guys are security conscious. They do not allow pictures or frivolity of any kind.
With the two nice policemen in our rearview mirror Kim and I sped off toward Kigali, each and an arm stuck out the window.
There is a man who works at our house called, Pierre. It is difficult to assess his age. If you just looked at him, you would guess him to be somewhere between 17 – 35. He has worked for the owner of the home for 8 years.
Pierre speaks very little English and I speak even less Kinyarwandan. He will occasionally look at me and run off a string of words to which I will smile and respond, “If you say so, bro!†and we will both smile and laugh.
I enjoy watching Pierre go about the business of his day. He is busiest in the cool of the morning. His boss runs a used car business of sorts so our house has a pretty regular coming and going of vehicles. One of Pierre’s jobs is to keep them clean. In the morning, he washes the cars (some days he does ours too!), sweeps away the dust from the driveway, feeds the birds, and does anything else that requires attention.
He has a little concrete block hut that is next to the gate to our little compound. Most of his afternoon is spent in there laying on the ground listening to his radio. He has a little white handheld FM radio that he always has on him. It is his link to the world outside the walls of the house.
Pierre whistles as he works. I am told that all true Rwandans whistle. It is part of their ancestral heritage as cattle keepers. I have gathered that his number one job is keeping the house and cars secure. As far as I can tell, Pierre very rarely leaves this place – and when he does it is for very short bursts of time to sprint to the market and back. Just from watching, it is obvious that Pierre loves his work. He takes inordinate pride in making sure everything is just so in his little kingdom.
One night, we were sitting down for supper and we noticed that Pierre was perched in a large tree in the front yard. Evidentially, he likes to get up in the tree in the evenings and watch the cars and people go bye outside the wall. From that perch, he can occasionally catch a gust of cool wind. It is his place to think and pray.
It is strange to live in such close proximity to a person and know almost nothing about them personally. We know that he is a hard worker. He is gentle and patient. He is a teacher (always trying to expand our vocabulary). He is attentive – before we even can call for help with something, he is there doing it. He is also thoughtful, anticipating our needs and getting everything just so for us.
Still, these are just observations, but we really don’t know the man who lives in the compound with us.
We had a guest for dinner one night who speaks Kinyarwandan, so we were able to invite Pierre in for dinner with us. He seemed a bit uncomfortable at first, but he warmed up as the evening went on.
Pierre’s family was wiped out in the genocide. We had been wondering why he never went out to see them – family is so important here. He is married and his wife is pregnant with their second child. Her entire family was also killed in the genocide – only she and her mother survived. It is strange that you can totally forget where you are. 17 years after the genocide and things are remarkably changed. Rwanda is rising from the grave and you can almost forget their great national sorrow. Then you discover why it is that Pierre doesn’t leave to go see his family much.
I am always patting Pierre on the back or shaking his hand. I can’t express what’s in my heart with words so I try to make up for it with my hands. I’ve not been sure if Pierre appreciates my affection or if he would prefer me to just leave him alone. Rwandans can be remarkably stoic. When we left the house to take our dinner guest home, Pierre and I walked out together.
I patted him on the back and as I did so, he slid his arm around my waist. I let my arm rest across his shoulders and we walked out arm in arm.
With a little squeeze he let me go and skipped over to the gate and I went to the car. By far, it was one of the great moments of my life.
Sitting in our hotel room in Ruhengeri, I realize that I have left my parents gorilla trekking permits at the house in Kigali. This is a disaster. Ruhengeri is a 2 ½ hour drive north of Kigali. The road is narrow, potholed, subject to landslide, traveled by trucks, cars, semis, bikes, motorcycles, pedestrians, guys with wheelbarrows, guys walking goats, guys walking cows, guys walking pigs, children carrying water, children rolling tires, children eating sugar cane, and an occasional velvet monkey. It crisscrosses the ridges of the mountains with sheer drops on either side of the road deep enough to give a pilot vertigo.
When we left for the week on the road, I simply wasn’t thinking clearly. Ruhengeri was the last stop on the tour and obviously not at the forefront of my mind.
Kim was sick, Dad & Susan had to be up at the break of dawn to hike up a volcano to view the gorillas, so at 4:30 pm, I jumped in the car and sped down the mountains to Kigali. I arrived in the city at rush hour. It was well after dark when I rolled up to the compound. I blew the horn (a process of reaching under the steering column and jiggling the loose wire) and yelled, “John!â€
Pierre’s wife is having her baby, so he left to be with her. Our landlord introduced us to John, who would be taking over security duties.
I honked (jiggled the wire) and yelled, “John†over and over.
Finally, I shut off the Land Rover and started pressing the button that rings a bell in the back rooms of the compound. I continued yelling for John. It took me a while to decide that he simply wasn’t inside. I needed to get into the house to get the permits and drive all the way back up the mountains to deliver the permits.
I climbed on top of the Land Rover and looked into the compound in which our house sits. It was dark and quiet. I pull out my cell phone and dial my landlord. It rang and rang with no answer.
I knew that Pierre had friends up and down our street – and that one of them (Jason) spoke perfect English. I wasn’t sure exactly which house he worked in, so I just sort of meandered up the street shouting, “Jason. Jaaasssoooonnn!†I figured he could call Pierre and see if there was a secret way inside the gates that I didn’t know about. Please take a moment to appreciate this scene: A big white guy walking up our dirt road shouting “Jason†toward our neighbors’ homes.
Out of ideas, I walked down to a local hotel and ordered an orange Fanta, a sandwich, and some chips (French fries).
With my belly full and still out of ideas (my landlord still isn’t answering), I wandered back down to the house. I rang the bell some more and shouted for John at the top of my voice. Eventually one of my neighbor’s daughters came out. She spoke perfect English. The boy who works at their house came running out and I recognized him as another of Pierre’s good friends. He pointed at me and in Kinyarwandan said to her, “that’s Pierre’s white guy.†Through my helpful neighbor I explained to him that I was locked out of my house, Pierre was gone, and I didn’t know where John was. The boy told me that my guy was inside, he was just asleep. My neighbor advised me to just bang on the gate really hard.
I once again climbed on top of the Land Rover. I started whistling as loudly as I could and shouted, “JOHN, JOHN!!†The helpful boy next door starting pounding on the gates. We kept this up for several minutes, but to no avail. Finally, the boy offered to climb the wall and I readily agreed. He scaled over the wall topped with razor wire into a tree and disappeared into the darkness. A minute or two later, John emerged and opened the gates. He was flustered to say the least.
I ran inside the dark house, got the permits and was back at the gates where I had left the car parked. John was standing at the door with his phone in his hand. He showed me a phone number that I understood to be his own. Good idea – next time you are passed out asleep I will call you! I honestly thought the guy must be on drugs to have slept through me yelling his name all night.
Then I noticed him pointing at the name above the number he was showing me. Damascene. Then John pointed at the name and then at himself.
“Your name is Damascene?†A smile. “Not John?†A headshake.
It turns out the power was out, so the bell didn’t work. Damascene heard the hooting of the horn, but had no idea who John might be or where he was to be found so he just went back to sleep.
When I made it back to Ruhengeri, I told Kim, “His name isn’t John.â€
Last month, Kim and I went out for a Saturday morning brunch. It was really strange. I thought we were in an episode of the Twilight Zone or Left Behind. The streets were empty. No one was walking around and there were no vehicles on the road. Believe me when I tell you, this is a rare and strange occurrence particularly in Kigali.
We got pulled over three times on our way into town. Each time, the police would look in at us and wave us on down the road. The other drivers that day were being detained on the side of the road. The country was observing umuganda, but we had no idea!
Umuganda is observed on the fourth Saturday of every month. It is a community workday. People are expected to go out into their neighborhood and clean, cut grass, and generally beautify things.
Last Saturday was once again umuganda. I am fascinated by this idea of a national workday, so I decided that I would participate to learn more. After my morning coffee, I grabbed Pierre and said, “umuganda.†He smiled and repeated me. Together we went out into the street. I collected trash up and down the street while Pierre clipped the bushes. Soon, Pierre was pulling weeds and I was trimming hedges and sweeping up the trimmings.
As I was on the ground pulling weeds, an older man came by and introduced himself. I told him a little about myself and we shared a laugh and a smile. Then he told me, “we do umuganda together.†I smiled and said, “great.†“No, we do it together. You can clean up your own house anytime, today we are cutting grass together.â€
Pierre, John, & I headed around the block to where all our neighbors were gathered. Together, we cut grass, picked up trash, and visited. There was a lot of visiting. Men just took turns picking up a machete or a panga and cutting grass. Then some of the women would sweep things up. I helped pick up trash, haul grass, and even took a turn with a machete. It wasn’t long before I was looking for my John Deer.
Umuganda is an amazing event. Imagine and entire nation spending half a day beautifying their neighborhoods; working together to keep things ordered and beautiful. There are several positive outcomes from this practice.
First, there is great incentive to keep things looking good throughout the month. Any trash you throw out is trash you are going to pick up later! In addition, people in the neighborhood get to know each other as the work side by side. The close of the day often features a time for the community to air out minor grievances. People can weigh in on disputes and help bring resolution to any problems.
As they set fire to the pile of grass and debris, John looked at me and said, “I release you from umuganda. You may go.†Pierre and I joined hands and walked home together having completed our civic and community duty.
Below is a copy of my correspondence to the church of Jesus Christ at St. John’s UMC in Corpus Christi:
Grace and peace to you from the 1000 green hills of Rwanda. I greet you in the name of our Risen Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ!
I am so honored and humbled by my recent appointment to serve the city of Corpus Christi at St. John’s United Methodist Church. Your district superintendent, Rev. Eradio Valverde has told me what a special congregation you are and how blessed I will be serving as your senior minister. Having read your amazing 50 year history, I know he is right!
I grew up in Friendswood, Texas – just outside of Houston where I was baptized and confirmed into the United Methodist Church. I attended the University of Texas at Austin where I achieved a Bachelors of Arts in government with a minor in history.. I earned a Master of Divinity from Asbury Theological Seminary in Wilmore, Kentucky. In 2004 I was appointed to University United Methodist Church in San Antonio. I have served with great joy there for the last seven years.
During my tenure, I have been blessed to have preached over 800 sermons, baptized almost 300 souls, joined over 1500 people to the church – over 550 of them on first time profession of faith, married 17 couples, and buried 18 saints.
The best blessing I’ve ever received was given to me by God on May 22, 2010 when I married my best friend, Kim Brooks Barnett. Kim has recently graduated with a Masters of Physician Assistant Studies from the University of Texas Pan Am. She is an amazing woman of God who has a long ministry of healing before her. She is really looking forward to living and working as a Physician’s Assistant in Corpus Christi. I know that you will all come to respect and love her. Kim and I have two dogs – a lab/blue heeler mix and a great dane puppy.
We currently on a three month sabbatical serving in Rwanda. I have spent this time strengthening my marriage, renewing my spirit, sharpening my preaching skills, and being filled by the Holy Spirit. I believe that God has granted me new vision and fresh passion to use serving Corpus Christi at St. John’s UMC.
Feel free to look through the pages of my blog: www.pastorryan.com. You may also enjoy getting to know Kim through hers as well: www.kimbarnettpac.blogspot.com.
I will be praying for you and your great lay leaders during this time of transition. I ask that you celebrate your current pastor’s ministry among you and pray for his family and new congregation. Pray also for each other, letting no division or trick of the devil sow any evil among you. I ask that you pray for Kim and me. Finally, even as I invited them to pray for you during your pastoral transition, I ask you to pray for the people of University UMC as they go through theirs.
I look forward to knowing you and serving the coming Kingdom of Jesus Christ in the years to come. May God bless and keep you until we meet together face to face.
Blessings,
Rev. Ryan Barnett
Below is a copy of my correspondence to the church of Jesus Christ at University UMC in San Antonio:
Grace and peace from the 1000 green hills of Rwanda. I offer you my deep love and great affection as you receive this letter. With it, I send my prayers and hopes for all that God is seeking to do at University United Methodist Church.
It is with bittersweet purpose that I write.
After many months of prayer, I discerned that it was time for me to itinerate and leave University. I shared this with our Bishop, Jim Dorff.
The decision to leave has not been an easy one. I have enjoyed so much of my time at University. Together we have grown the church, families, disciples, and the Kingdom. During my seven years at University, I have been blessed to have preached over 800 sermons, baptized almost 300 souls, joined over 1500 people to the church – over 550 of them on first time profession of faith, married 17 couples, and buried 18 saints.
The relationship I have had with the church has been one of the greatest experiences in my life. We have experienced joy together. We have experienced pain together. We have been united at times and we have sadly been divided at times. Through it all though, Jesus Christ remained the head of our body.
I believe that God has opened up this time for me to move on from University UMC. We are experiencing a new day for our sweet church. With the opening of our third campus, Pastor Charles has taken strong measures to unite our church with common vision. He will be preaching at least three months on each campus and he has united the preaching calendar – so that each campus preacher will be preaching the same material. University UMC is poised to move forward under his continued strong leadership.
It also feels like a divinely inspired time for me to move forward as well. I have experienced a great deal of change in my life. I have discovered that my most important job is to be a good husband and to lead my little family well. I believe God has given me an opportunity to do this by moving to a place where Kim and I begin new together.
Most importantly, I believe that this is the best for the Kingdom of God. University has played a critical role in my formation as a minister and equipped me to lead a church. You have given me an opportunity to exercise senior leadership from an associate’s position. It is my great prayer that with these lessons learned, I will be able to grow other congregations in the likeness of Jesus Christ.
Recently, Bishop Jim Dorff, through the Corpus Christi District Superintendent, Rev. Eradio Valverde contacted me here in Rwanda. At that time, he offered me the opportunity to become the senior minister of St. John’s United Methodist Church in Corpus Christi. He invited me to pray about the opportunity and respond. I have let him know that I would accept the appointment.
I urge you to resist the devil and any attempt he makes to cause you to have unholy thoughts. Our system of itinerant ministry is a good one. For those who lament my departure – remember that it was the itinerancy that brought me to University. For those who lamented my ministry at University – remember that it is the itinerancy that moves me on now! In all things, God is faithful to those who keep Jesus Christ as the head of their lives.
As I close, there are a few important things I want to stress.
First, Bishop Dorff & Pastor Charles both said that I was welcome to stay at University UMC. No one is stealing me or forcing me to go. Pastor Charles has given me his blessing to stay or to go. I have consulted with my spiritual mentors and we have all mutually discerned that this is the right time for me to itinerate.
Second, I want to remind you that being a Methodist pastor appointed to St. John’s UMC means I can no longer relate to you as a pastor. I will always be your brother-in-Christ and friend, but I will be the pastor of another parish. This means it will be impossible for me to return to University UMC for any pastoral duties – including weddings, funerals, and baptisms. This is part of the cannon of ethics of a Methodist pastor.
Finally, this letter is not goodbye. We will have a few weeks to say goodbye and pray together upon my return from Rwanda in May. I ask for your prayers during this time of transition. Please pray for each other, for the University clergy team’s leadership, for Kim & me, and for the people of St. John’s UMC as they too experience the transition of a new pastor.
May God’s love hold you close until we stand face to face once again.
Blessings,
Rev. Ryan Barnett