Category: retirement

Posted in retirement

Suddenly, life is full

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Kari Shea on Unsplash

We were both standing at the kitchen island, working on our latest baking projects. My wife was cutting out sugar cookies to be baked and decorated for a granddaughter’s preschool graduation and nascent cottage food business. I was giving my sourdough a final stretch in preparation for an overnight in the fridge.

I chuckled and asked, “We had no idea we’d be doing this six months ago, did we?”

I’m coming up on two years of retirement and my wife has been easing into hers over the past six months. I was never able to come up with a really good answer for the question, “So what are you going to do?” Or, “What’s retirement going to look like for you?” She didn’t many good answers, either.

I think that’s because you just don’t know. You don’t know what opportunities, challenges, or people will show up until they do. In addition to baking and decorating cookies, we’re raising a Great Dane puppy, working on a wellness newsletter, and considering leading a small group. I’m going to lead an online Bible Study Fellowship group in the fall and teach a middle school Sunday School class once a month. None of these things were on the table even six months ago.

Yesterday, the pastor was preaching on Genesis 12. As that chapter unfolds, God says to Abram, “Go,” and “Abram went.” Talk about a bold step of faith. God’s command prompts all sorts of questions, but the only answer is, “I will show you.”

  • “Go.” “Where?” “I will show you.”
  • “I will make of you a great nation.” “How?” “I will show you.”
  • “I will bless you and make your name great.” “How are you going to do that?” “I will show you.”
  • “I will bless those who bless you…in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” “What do you mean by that?” “I will show you.”

Over the next twenty-five years and eleven chapters of scripture, God does show Abram (Abraham) how he is able to do more than all we ask or imagine. In a lot of ways, the Lord has done the same thing for us. We’ve met great people, traveled to new places, and gotten involved in new ministries.

A lot of other people seemed to be concerned about our retirement life. I wasn’t. I kind of figured God would find a way to fill it up.

Posted in Life, retirement

Too much information?

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Roman Kraft on Unsplash

My life is so filled with information that I no longer know what to do.

It was a lot easier when I was young. I’d get up in the morning and look out the window. I either saw the sun or overcast skies. I could see if rain (or snow) falling. If I felt cold, I out on a jacket or coat. And then, regardless of the weather, I headed out the door and walked to school.

Now I check my phone to check the current temperature as well as predicted highs and lows. I look at the hour by hour prediction of rain. I watch a moving radar map to see if a storm is headed my way. I zoom out to see if there are any storms in other places where I might be going that day. Should I bring an umbrella? Will an event be cancelled? Should I hunker down at home? Am I feeling lucky, as if I’ll be on the sunny side of a fifty-percent chance of rain? Sometimes I don’t know what to do.

When we picked up our Great Dane puppy, the breeder gave us tips from her years of experience. She advised us on the kind of food to get and when to neuter our female. When we got home, we took her to the veterinarian for her next round of shots. He gave us completely different advice about food and age for spaying. Of course, when I got home, I got online and did some research, hoping to break the one to one tie. That didn’t help. I found plenty of expert advice to support either recommendation.

It was a lot easier when I was younger. I brought home my first pup with a bag of inexpensive food and we were both happy for his fifteen-year life.

I don’t find online reviews to be helpful for much of anything. There are just as many negative as positive reviews for products, physicians, restaurants and jobs. Are those reviews even legit? Or are some of them fake? Who knows?

It was much easier to walk in the store, pick up an item, and buy it if you liked it. Or if you enjoyed the meal, go back to that restaurant. If not, go somewhere else.

In the wake of my retirement nearly two years ago, I still get conflicting information. “So-and-so was still preaching well into his nineties.” Another person kept working, fell ill, and never got to enjoy their retirement years. “You know, the bible never speaks of leaving the workforce.” And, “I’ve been retired more years than I worked. I highly recommend it.”

It seems like there are many more experts in this world than there used to be. If I listen to all their advice, I might not do anything, paralyzed by too much information. So I think I’ll just look out the window, play with the dog, purchase what works for me, and daily learn first-hand about life, retirement, and purpose.

Posted in Ministry, pastor, retirement

Just a regular guy

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by cottonbro studio: https://www.pexels.com/photo/person-in-white-shirt-and-green-pants-4066296/

Somehow I managed to fly under the radar for about a year and a half. Rick was at my table at bible class last night, along with Dick, Michael, and Jay. The lesson that night, from John Stott’s book The Radical Disciple, was about nonconformity. Disciples of Jesus need regular reminders not to slip into ethical relativism (where the lines between right and wrong are blurred). Our standard is God’s Word.

I shared with the table that ninety-five percent of the weddings I’ve performed were for couples who were already living together. Counseling and marrying them was a step in the right direction.

Rick looked at me and said, “Wait a minute. You did weddings?”

“Sure, lots of them.”

He asked again, “Really? How could you do weddings?”

Dick, sitting to my left, chucked, “He was a pastor for twenty-six years just up the road before his retirement.”

Rick was incredulous. “You were a pastor? I thought you were just a regular guy!”

I assured Rick, “I am just a regular guy. That was my occupation for thirty-six years.”

Rick and I have been friends for about eighteen months. I guess my previous occupation just never came up. And that’s OK. I enjoy being a regular guy. It’s fun love flying under the radar.

Posted in retirement

Letting go, fading away, and free to be

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Richard Stachmann on Unsplash

In her Medium article “Retirement: The Benefit of Letting Go” Marlane Ainsworth wrote that in retirement, we start to fade away. No one waits for our arrival before things start happening. We are no longer needed for meetings, planning, permission, or consultation. Previous significance wanes with alarming speed.

I know, that sounds a little depressing. Until you consider the positive side. It’s freeing. In retirement, I’ve shed expectations, assumptions, and demands like a snake sloughing off its skin. Something happens when you are no long defined by a job description. When you are less insignificant in the work world, a different part of you emerges.

Anyway, her story made me think about things things I did as a pastor simply because they were part of the job description and expected of me. If that surprises you, let me assure you, it surprised me too. Yes, it’s a calling. But it’s also an occupation.

  • Going to visit the same homebound person for sixty months in a row gets old after a while. I think that was my record. One person was on my visiting list when I arrived at my church in Connecticut, and I was still going to their home when I took a call to the next church five years later.
  • No one explained how many meetings I would have to go to. My calendar was full of them. Few were short. Few were productive. No, I do not miss them, not even a little bit.
  • Conference and convention attendance was mandatory. While I enjoyed spending time with other clergy from around the country, the agendas were filled with boring speakers addressing irrelevant topics. When asked, “Why do you keep going to those things?” I had to confess, “I have no idea.”
  • The experts told us annual stewardship messages would increase giving. These were my least favorite sermons. No matter how you dress up the appeal, you aren’t fooling anyone. It’s the big yearly ask. I was so glad when each campaign was over.
  • Part of the job was tracking down people who hadn’t been coming to church. I hated that. For some reason I didn’t like seeking out unhappy people to find out why they were unhappy. And I couldn’t simply ask, “Where the h*** have you been?” I had to be nice to them. I just wasn’t very good at looking for wandering sheep.

Okay. Enough of that. Don’t get me wrong. I loved going to seminary and I loved being a pastor. I loved teaching, preaching, and leading worship. I loved the music, ancient and new. I loved holding the babies, sitting on the floor with children, and running around with the youth. The stuff I loved doing far outweighed the burdens. But to do the things you love, you have to do the other stuff, too.

But not anymore. Having stepped out of that world and into retirement, that part of me starts to fade and other parts of me surface. Ainsworth wrote, “Letting go of things lets a part of us out that we kept corralled for a long time.” Keep in mind, I’m only eighteen months into this, so I am still discovering those parts.

I write more, read more books (mostly mysteries), take more walks (usually with dogs), get to know more of my neighbors, bake sourdough bread, practice music, attend bible studies (as a student), take trips, do some yard work, and constantly work towards a minimal-ish life. Along the way, I often reflect on my years in the ministry as well as these away from it. I may be fading, but the memories aren’t. Not yet.

Posted in retirement, teaching

A chance to teach

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Kenny Eliason on Unsplash

It’s been eighteen months, but it felt just like yesterday. I haven’t taught a class since my retirement, but the scheduled teacher was sick, and they asked me to fill in. Why not?

Over the past year, I’ve gotten to know the couple of dozen men who meet to study the bible and pray each Wednesday night. A team of teachers has taken turns leading the group through books of the bible and a few books on prayer and leadership. We’re currently in the gospel of Mark, and my task would be to lead a discussion of chapters eleven and twelve.

That’s a lot of ground to cover. In those two chapters Mark takes the reader from Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday to the clearing of the temple to a widow giving her last two coins. Rejected by every religious leader, Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion is just around the corner. There is much to talk about in these few pages.

I promised myself I would take in the moment and reflect upon my ninety minutes in front of a bunch of guys who only know me as Bill. The class was great, with lots of participation, discussion, and questions. Though it’s nice to not have to prepare and teach several times a week year round, I enjoy teaching and am more than glad to fill in from time to time. It helps to know the group, what makes them tick, and what gets them going.

One of the things I’ve enjoyed in retirement is the transition from teacher to learner. True, you learn a lot when you teach. But there is also much to be learned from others equipped with a variety of training and experience.

Posted in retirement

First Sunday off

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I found this in my drafts. I wrote it eighteen months ago, in July 2022, right after I retired.

Photo by Adi Goldstein on Unsplash

The first page of a new journal happened on the same day as my first Sunday of retirement, that is, my first Sunday off from preaching.

Sure, I’ve had Sundays off before. Vacations. A few guest preachers. But this was real. This was retirement. This was the first day of the rest of my <retired> life.

This was different. I didn’t have to worry about what was happening in my absence. I didn’t have to anticipate a text like, “How do you reset the AC?” or “Where is the key for the other building?” All of that was someone else’s concern. No one could add anything to my plate. I had nothing to worry about.

If you are just tuning in, this was the first Sunday after thirty-six years of pastoral ministry when Sunday was actually a “Sabbath” for me. For me and other pastors, Sunday is ground zero. Even though I had plenty to do the rest of the week, everything pointed towards Sunday. Sunday is “showtime,” that day when you touch the most lives in the smallest amount of time. Some in person. Some online. Some for the first time. Some for the hundredth time.

Do you know what my wife and I did on the first Sunday of my retirement? I want to say, “Nothing.” Nada. Zip. Zilch.

That’s not quite accurate. We did not go to church. At least not in person. We watched my son’s worship service on YouTube from Dallas, TX. We went for a long bike ride. I wrote a bunch of thank you notes for retirement gifts. I made some of my special ceviche. I took a nap.

I had a Sabbath.

I had a day to rest. A day to relax. A day to re-create. A day to listen and reflect on God’s Word. A day to be still and know that He is God.

Here are a few thoughts from my first day off in retirement:

  • On this day, God was exalted. Too often, I am praised on a Sunday morning for an inspiring message, an appropriate prayer, or an appropriate illustration. Even though the kingdom, the power, and the glory are His, pastors get too much of that. I did not have to worry about that on this Sunday.
  • On this day, I was just Bill. I know that doesn’t impress most of you. But it’s been thirty-six years since I was just “Bill.” I remember the day after the call service at the Fort Wayne seminary when I called the president of the congregation. With a thick Brooklyn accent, Jim said, “Oh, hi, Pastor.” From that moment on, people called me Pastor, Pastor Douthwaite, Pastor Bill, and PB. Over the years some would call me “Bill,” but they were few and far between. Suddenly, that’s who I was. Bill. I had to think back to my pre-seminary days to remember who that was.
  • On this day, Sunday happened without me. For so many years, I unlocked the doors, turned on the lights, straightened the chairs (old sanctuary), cleaned up (old worship folders from last Sunday, put out the worship folders for this Sunday, filled the baptismal font, put out the Sunday School snacks, and made sure we had an appropriate banner displayed in the sanctuary. Someone else does all that now.

I thankful for all the Sunday “on,” when I got to preach. And I am grateful for all these Sundays when I don’t.

Posted in retirement

I am prepared to be humbled.

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

Since I am retiring from full-time pastoral ministry at the end of this coming July, a call committee at our church has begun the process of preparing to call the next pastor for our congregation. That process includes asking each member of the congregation what abilities, skills, strengths, experience and priorities they would like to see in their next pastor.

I am prepared to be humbled.

Why? First of all, because I’m human, a sinner, and nowhere close to being perfect. I know that either blatantly or subtly, my weaknesses will be highlighted in the responses to this survey. The members of the congregation will frankly tell the call committee what they would never say to my face. Their wishes for the next pastor will expose my weaknesses, failures and negligence.

I’m ready for that.

Trust me, I know my weaknesses. I am very aware of all the things I should have done over the past twenty-four years at this church. My insufficiencies haunt me daily. I did not study, pray, visit, administrate, evangelize, discipline, preach, teach, counsel, participate and celebrate like I should have or could have. I angered, frustrated, annoyed, irritated, insulted, ignored, and drove away many. I did it for the money, the notoriety and my ego.

I do not deny any of that.

When this church called me to be their pastor, they called a sinner. A sinner that deserves temporal and eternal punishment, a sinner redeemed by Christ, a sinner who squeaks into heaven by the grace of God. What did you expect? A saint? A super-hero? Someone you could look up to?

I never wanted you to look up to me. I wanted you to look to Christ. He’s the one who was obedient, he’s the one who was crucified and he’s the one who rose. He’s the one who will meet your hopes, expectations and dreams.

Me? I’m just me. And I am grateful I got to be your pastor for these last twenty-three or four years. What a gift.