October 13, 2025
It has been a while.
I have not written much these past few months. At times, given the rapid succession of events in our country and world, there have been no words. At other times, when words did form in my mind, they did not find their way to paper simply because of the rapid passage of time.
My intentions have been good. I’ve thought: “I’ll write after the Annual Conferences are over, I’ll write once vacation has passed, at the beginning of the Fall season, or when, surely to goodness, there will be a break where I can think and breathe.” Yet, each well-intended thought has vanished in an air that is as thin as time is short.
In an attempt to provide as much transparency as possible without causing undue harm to anyone, I sit at my computer and pen these words.
Over the years, I have been moved by the inspirational story Jesus tells of the shepherd who went after the one, leaving the ninety-nine behind. However, it’s only recently that have I discovered how difficult it is to follow that directive. For to be sure, my time these days has been consumed by the passions, decisions, motives, and needs of one that have taken precedence over the needs of the many.
This summer, I had the debilitating and ugly task of closing a church because of the action of one: An awful act of sexual abuse against a child that could only be reconciled through a lawsuit that led to a settlement that could only be paid by closing the church and selling the property in order to pay the mediated agreement. On the day we deconsecrated the church, I stood in front of the congregation and feebly attempted to preach in the midst of their unchecked tears and sadness.
They were losing a place that had meant so much to them as a result of an event that took place over five decades ago. I too found myself with tear-filled eyes as I looked at a pastor who worked so hard to care for his flock, yet felt somehow that he had failed them. It was sad and sobering. I hated my job that day – spending time dealing with the grim effects that one, just one, can have on many.
This fall I had the opportunity to do a very different job, the one I signed up to do some forty years ago: being a father. For years, I have jokingly said that when my daughter calls and says, “Dad,” I settle in for some of the most amazing conversations on leadership that I have had with anyone, let alone my own flesh and blood. But when she calls and says, “Daddy,” I get out my checkbook! But this time, the word “Daddy” was followed by the words: cancer, surgery, and the need for help.
A need to be there to cook, clean, get the guys to and from school, provide some needed encouragement, and offer a whole bucketload of love. I spent several weeks in the heart of the fall kickoff, a time when work can be described as critically important, doing what I agreed to do a long time ago, be a Daddy. It was purposeful, enlivening, and essential. I loved my job those days – spending time supporting one I love so deeply, when that one needs to know just how deeply you care.
In my other job this season, I have been consumed with those who believe that individuality means more than the connection we are a part of and the conviction that we are stronger together than we can ever be apart. The stories are more numerous than I have time to share, but these stand out: an individual who feels that their perceived needs supersede the needs of their colleagues and a church that feels their interpretation of who they are cancels out the reality that as United Methodists, we are part of a connectional church.
This individualistic attitude that believes that the feeling of the one outweighs the good of the many along with a belief that just because one feels something it must surely be right, is an attitude that is running rampant throughout our church and our country. It’s Us vs. Them, Me vs. You, with little regard for the feelings or the needs of the other. I’m exhausted by my job on those days – spending time defending the good of the whole to those who have no regard for anything except themselves.
The one-year anniversary of serving multiple annual conferences has just passed. It has been a year of great challenge and great opportunity. While the common needs of both annual conferences have become very clear, the unique needs of both annual conferences have also come into sharper focus. The work is demanding. When I’m in New England, I’m doing New York work and when I’m in New York, I’m doing New England work. Yet the work is fulfilling.
Building on 10 years of relationships in one setting, while establishing cherished relationships in another. For the past year, I’ve been juggling two balls and trying to give it my all. The problem is, along the way I discovered that one ball has been left on the ground: my family. Children that are flowering, grandchildren that are growing, and a wife who needs her husband. Lately, in an attempt to find some long-lost balance, I have discovered I that in order to find that necessary balance I have to make sure that I’m juggling three balls in the air, not two.
I’m challenged by that opportunity on those days – spending time making sure that the ones I love do not get lost in midst of the many that I love.
This year I have been struggling with the reality that nearly everything I believe in and everything we publicly stand for as a church is in direct opposition to the way our country is being led. While the public discourse is about making peace abroad, within the bounds of our country there is being sown into the soil acts of retribution, chaos, discrimination, injustice — just about anything you can imagine to pit us against one another. I have always taken great pride in being a spokesperson for our theology as United Methodists, always beamed when I wove words like grace, hope, justice, joy, and love into sermons and articles and speeches.
But now, those words are negated, discouraged, and even scorned as weak and irrelevant. The attacks are constant. The targets are the ones: the immigrant, persons of color in leadership positions, members of the transgender community, the institutions that emphasizes diversity, equity, and inclusion, even those who dare to stand up to exercise free speech, defend democracy, and disagree. I’m frustrated by my job on those days – constantly confronting how the good of the whole is being suppressed by the will of the one.
One day when he was confronting the misguided, self-centered attitude of certain individuals, Jesus told the story of a shepherd who left the ninety-nine sheep behind to hunt for the one that was lost. As with any biblical story, there is a lot left unspoken or unknown. Was the one rebellious and bent on creating chaos? Or was the one independent and only able to see the world with selfish eyes? Was the one in need of special care or had the shepherd neglected the one at the expense of the many? We will never know.
What we do know, though, is that the shepherd sought out the one. Regardless of whether it was a joyful search or a burdensome one, the shepherd went willingly into the unknown to do what needed to be done.
As I have walked through these last several months, I have discovered that this search for the one has been my work. Sometimes it is pleasant and gratifying. Other times it is time consuming and exasperating. All the time, it is essential. It’s been my work but truth be told, shouldn’t it be our work as well?
It is no surprise to you that I end all my writings with the word “journey.” Whether it’s the good, the bad, or the ugly, it is a journey that must continue as long as we have heartbeat and breath. With a strong sense of call in our hearts and a God-given purpose in our steps, we venture into the unknown hunting for ways in which the one needs to be confronted, the one needs to be held accountable, the one needs to be connected, and the oneneeds to be loved.
And through it all, in the midst of it all, may these words guide our steps: “So let us not grow weary in well-doing, for in due season we shall reap, if we do not lose heart.” (Galatians 6:9, RSV)
The Journey Continues, . . .
Thomas J. Bickerton
Resident Bishop