My View From the Pulpit

This past Sunday I participated in worship at the Georgetown Presbyterian Church. I donned my robe, processed with the clergy, and sat behind the pulpit. I normally lead worship at small churches as a guest pastor, where I juggle many responsibilities by myself and hope that nothing gets forgotten. But this time, I only spoke briefly alongside three other pastors which gave me the chance to take in the view from the pulpit.

As I sat facing the congregation I remembered the summer of 2017 when I was a Wall Street intern attending the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church in New York City. I remember slumping in my pew each Sunday after 80-hour weeks crunching numbers. One Sunday after a particularly draining week, I looked up at the Princeton Seminary intern sitting behind the pulpit and thought: “I’d rather have his job.” The realization both surprised me and confirmed what had long been stirring in me: I needed to change course and attend seminary.

So there I sat this past Sunday–almost 7 years later–behind the pulpit in my robe. I looked out and saw people of all ages looking up at us. Some were listening intently with closed eyes, some were entertaining small children, some looked weary. I knew that there were stories and dreams and disappointments that each person was holding. It was beautiful to see so much life!

And then I looked in front of me and saw what I’ve seen in every pulpit: a mysterious collection of junk. Pulpits look stately from the front, but are undoubtedly filled with an eclectic assortment of junk that only the pastor can see: a stray battery, wadded tissue, burned out lightbulb, a sermon prop long abandoned, a fire extinguisher, disinfecting wipes. This always makes me laugh! The Reformed Tradition teaches that pastors are not called to live exemplary lives that the congregation ought to mirror, but to faithfully walk alongside the people through life’s twists and turns. We too keep junk we don’t need in places that ought to be holy. I have a hunch, though, that a pristine pulpit is not the goal. The junk reminds us of the messy reality of life and ministry alive in the church.

I felt immense gratitude as I reflected on my path from the summer of 2017 to where I now sat. This is certainly the seat to which I am called.

Text copyright © 2024 Grace Woodward. All rights reserved.