I recently just finished reading the Harry Potter series for the first time, including the last book, The Deathly Hallows, which has some wisdom to impart about the power of resurrection in the lives of those who continue living after others have died. This weekend, the church universal celebrated All Saints' Day. Perhaps because of these things, when contemplating what to write, I couldn't stop thinking about the seminary's Memorial Service of Witness to the Resurrection for KC Ptomey I attended in September. So, I began to write:
"The Rev. Dr. KC Ptomey
began teaching at Austin Seminary, as professor of Pastoral Ministry and
Leadership, the same year I arrived. While there, I took a couple of his
courses. They, like KC himself, greatly informed and influenced my understanding
of ministry in the church. In his late 60s, KC, with his broad smile, twinkling
eyes, infectious laughter, and southern charm, never hesitated to point a
finger and tell it like it is. His stories from the front lines of 30+ years of
ministry made students both laugh and cringe, always used to illustrate a point
discussed in class.
In
May, KC died peacefully in his Nashville home, after a short, but no doubt fierce
battle with liver cancer. In September, I attended a Memorial Service for him
held at the seminary. A Service of
Witness to the Resurrection. If I learned anything from KC, this is what
funerals are above all else. The tiny chapel filled with saints who’d come to celebrate
his life. The seminary president, faculty and students helped lead the service.
A Board of Trustees member gave the sermon. His wife, The Rev. Carol Tate,
presided at the Table. A refrain, consistent with KC’s life and witness, echoed
throughout the service: See you at the
Table. KC died believing that death does not have the final word. As I
walked forward to receive the Eucharist, surrounded by such a great cloud of
witnesses, I cried tears of grief and joy. The presence of God in the room was
thick, palpable, and stuck in my throat.
I
hesitated to talk about death as we enter this season of Advent. But KC taught
that in life and death, we belong to God. As I reflect on the presence of God
felt at his memorial service, I am reminded that even in the darkest of
circumstances, a Bright Light illuminates the world with hope. This is
something to celebrate as we enter this season of light."
If I learned anything about myself in the last year, it's that, even as an extrovert, I sometimes need a little longer than anticipated to process powerful events. This is one such example. It's been nearly six months since KC died, but as I re-read his obituary, I still tear up and continue to process. Writing this helped too, which is likely why I chose this experience to share.
