Buying a Field from Prison

And just as the Lord had said, my cousin Hanamel showed up at the prison quarters and told me, “Buy my field in Anathoth in the land of Benjamin, for you are next in line and have a family obligation to purchase it.” Then I was sure this was the Lord’s doing. So I bought the field in Anathoth from my cousin Hanamel, and weighed out for him seventeen shekels of silver.  I signed the deed, sealed it, had it witnessed, and weighed out the silver on the scales. (Jeremiah 32:8-10, CEB translation)

(This blog is in the series covering the pastoral transition in 2020).

The Babylonian army had surrounded Jerusalem. Fall was inevitable. Jeremiah was in prison, basically for warning everyone this was going to happen. And while he is in prison, he has this chance to buy a relative’s field. In a land that is about to be taken over by another kingdom. A land he cannot see. A land that he hopes he will get to… one day.

I think of this passage as I am about to sign a lease on an apartment in the town where I will begin living in a month. The town where I will begin serving in two months. A land I will see and serve. One day.

And I am signing a lease for an apartment I have never seen. I can’t see it. The quarantine prevents me from seeing it. Sure, I have seen pictures online. But nothing in person. I have heard about it. But I won’t get to go in until it is mine and I am released to go there.

I am not unique this year. Many of my friends who are in pastoral transitions are confronting realities like this when it comes to where they will live. Some have had Facetime tours of parsonages or homes that they are buying. Several of us have signed leases based on pictures. Some of us have at least seen the outsides of where we are going, and a few have taken masked and gloved tours. But these are all strange leaps of faith we are taking.

I add to my journey that my husband and son are staying in our house (we didn’t want to uproot our son for his senior year). So I am setting up a new household. We have a second set of furniture in storage for just such a reality as this, as my husband and son live in the home that was going to be our retirement home, but then I got appointed close to it, so we moved in and stored our parsonage furniture. So I have that. What I do not have is a sufficient amount of household goods. So I find myself possibly facing setting up an apartment without cleaning supplies, toilet paper, and meat. In some ways it feels like being forced into the exile, grabbing what I have on hand (which admittedly is a couch) and scrambling into a new life.

Some of the old timers tell of the days when congregations did what was called a pounding. They brought pounds of flour, and sugar, and other goods to welcome the new pastor. I have always had congregations show up in some capacity, like with cookies or sandwiches or something. But I wonder what happens this year? Can anyone show up? If they can, what can they bring? Is it weird to really want to skip the homemade baked goods and just pray a couple people show up with paper towels, Lysol, and rolls of toilet paper? But I also realize what I will need will not be what others moving will need. My guess is they need something, though. And we need the guidance from our new communities about how to go about getting that. But to ask outright seems… greedy. Or at the very least, unusual.

But this move will be unusual, to say the least. And can we just be honest? None of us know how to do it. It seems like it is a good year to talk about it though. It seems like it is a good year to share stories with each other. It seems like this year it is not so much about being cordial. It is really about being present in each other’s lives, even as real presence is somewhat restricted. And it seems like the earlier those conversations begin, the better.

But it also seems like a good time to remember Jeremiah. Jeremiah’s purchase of the field… as far as I am concerned, it is one of the greatest moments of faith and hope in the whole Bible. At the worst time to make an investment in land, Jeremiah does it anyway. Jeremiah has faith that no matter how twisty and turny the journey is before him, he will one day find himself living again in the Promised Land.

Despite all the weirdness of this year, I am excited about the future. Nervous, so very nervous, but also excited. I am so excited I am buying a field!  For I know that the plans God has for me, and for the people I will serve, are plans for hope and a future.

Photo by Federico Respini on Unsplash