There are moments in the life of a pastor when the words thank you simply do not seem large enough.

As I prepare to begin my sabbatical on September 14, I find myself overwhelmed by gratitude. For the gift of these weeks. For the generosity of this congregation. For the trust that makes such a sabbatical possible. For the people who have encouraged it, planned for it, prayed for it, and made room for it. And, most of all, for the remarkable privilege of having spent these years serving as your pastor.

A sabbatical is, in some ways, an unusual thing to receive. Pastoral ministry is built around being present—answering the phone, sitting at bedsides, preaching the gospel, baptizing children, grieving at gravesides, celebrating marriages, listening to stories, sharing meals, and walking alongside people through the ordinary and extraordinary moments of their lives. To step away from that is no small thing.

But I am learning that sometimes faithfulness means stepping away long enough to remember why we walk in the first place.

My sabbatical will be a season of pilgrimage, study, hiking, reading, prayer, and paying attention. I hope to create enough quiet to listen again—to God, to creation, to my own soul, and to the still, small invitations of the Spirit. I hope to return not simply rested, but renewed: more attentive to God’s presence, more deeply rooted in Christ, and more ready to love and serve this congregation for the years ahead.

While I am away, our worship will enter a sermon series called “Formed by Jesus: Apprenticed to the Kingdom of God.” Our preachers will walk through the Gospel readings of the Revised Common Lectionary, asking what happens to us when we allow ourselves to be shaped by Jesus. Dallas Willard used the language of apprenticeship to describe discipleship—not simply believing things about Jesus, but learning to live as Jesus would live if he were us.

That feels particularly appropriate for this season.

For I am leaving not because the work is finished, but because I need to be formed, too.

And perhaps that is the deeper gift of a sabbatical: the reminder that none of us ever graduates from discipleship. Pastors need Jesus just as much as congregations do. We all need seasons in which we stop, breathe, listen, and allow God to make us new.

So as I leave, I do so with a heart full to overflowing. Thank you, Ardmore, for giving me this extraordinary gift.

May these weeks be a season of grace for all of us.

And may we each, in our own way, become a little more like Jesus.

Grace and peace,

Rev. Dr. Tyler Tankersley