On May 9, 2018, Rev. Kent Green was ordained as a minister in the Missionary Church. Kent serves as a chaplain in a hospital, Parkview Regional Medical Center in Fort Wayne, Indiana. The text he chose to be read that night was Philippians 2:1 to 18.

Kent asked me to bring the message for his ordination service. As I reflected on the work of chaplains, this message became not just a charge to Kent but a charge to all Chaplains at least for those working from a Christian perspective.

On August 31, 2025, Kent died. I know this post is long. It’s a reminder of what Kent lived and knew.

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Hey Kent. I’m proud of you. Thank you for thinking about this ordination process and moving ahead.

I’m proud that the Missionary church is willing to value the work of chaplaincy. To ordain a person not for their ministry in a local congregation but for their calling to the Gospel as it works out in healthcare is a good thing.

And I’m proud of being part of Parkview, where we value the work of chaplaincy. This organization sees spiritual care as worthy of support. Enough that we have this space and this team and a willingness to affirm ordination.

There are a handful of rituals like this where there are public remarks addressed to one or two people in front of a large group. In a wedding, there are words to the couple that are witnessed by everyone. In group prayer, there are words to God that are witnessed by everyone.

And in an ordination like this, there are words to Kent that are witnessed by everyone.

We could, of course, just go to the office, where you and I have talked often about things bigger and deeper than charting a patient conversation. But tonight, Kent, I’d like to talk to you and me. And maybe others can find something of value.

I’ve tried to figure out how to unpack the text you chose for us, the words of Paul to a group of people that he loved. A group of people that he had been beaten in front of, and perhaps even beaten by some of them.

I tried to figure it out, and then I gave up. I try not to preach to you as we sit in the office. So why should I do it here? And as I thought about tonight, something kept pressing on my heart to talk about: the word “enough.“

You and I need to learn to rest in the word, “enough.”

I want to modify that word with three phrases for a hospital chaplain to remember on the day he is ordained.

God is enough.

God, Father Son and Holy Spirit. God is enough.

God created and creates. God loved and loves. God guided and guides. God died and lives.

In the text from Philippians tonight, Paul says, “as you are figuring out how to care for each other, as you are trying to understand how to get along with one another, to serve one another, look at God. Who is enough.”

We know that God is enough to give us examples in our conversations with people.

“God knows what it’s like to lose a child,” we say as we walk with families through what we call fetal demises but what we know are the death of dreams and hopes.

“God knows what it’s like to be rejected by everyone”,  we say as we sit in rooms with patients rejected by their families and friends.

God knows what it’s like to be misunderstood, to be abandoned by a spouse, to endure mocking,, to be “despised and rejected by mankind,  a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.”

God knows what it’s like to choose to persist in love, what it’s like to give up everything for the sake of someone else.

God is enough as an example. That is true. And part of our calling as ministers of the Gospel is to make that clear.

But, my friend, who sits in an office hours after the scheduled hours expired because you stood with a family through pain.

God is enough for us.

God’s forgiveness through Jesus means that we can stop trying to measure up and we can rest. God’s strength for the work he puts in front of us means, as Paul wrote in a different place, that we can work hard with all the strength he gives us.

We don’t have to struggle to find explanations or answers that will defend God. God will not disappear or become powerless .

God is enough.

There is a second word for you and me, that feels a little controversial.

You are enough.

My brother Kent, you wrestle with comparison. So do I. We look at preachers and at pastors and at peers and we think, “I’ll never measure up to Biberstein. I’ll never measure up to Susie.”

And that, my friend, is a lie from the deceiver designed to distract us from our unique calling and equipping.

You are enough.

We talk about whether we are getting it right. And when we read this text, we think it is talking about humiliating ourselves, about focusing on how inadequate we are.

That’s how service gets twisted. Into being doormats, into being trampled.

And in the Gospel story, Jesus is humiliated.

But it is not because he was unworthy.

My friend Kent, with the experience God has given you, the path that God has walked along with you and Barb, you are enough.

I almost wrote that you are equipped to be enough.

But I don’t want to start with equipping. I want to start with you. You are enough. You and I are loved in spite of all the things we find wrong with ourselves. We are valued even when we see ourselves as having no value. And then you are equipped with all the God, all the competence, all the words and silences and strength and weakness you need to do the work and the rest that God invites us to.

What you need, of course, is courage. Daily, momentary, courage that allows you to just keep moving. Even when you can’t remember your password.

The personality you have that pushes hard when this is about justice, but defers when this is about you. That’s a God-given gift to you, that you can rest in.

The calling that started in one direction and then took you in another.

The battle through studies. Living in a community forever.

And then this last year, where you and Barb worked together and cared for each other and learned about your capacities to push through and foster community.

You are enough.

You read my words a week or so ago where I talked about moving away from performing to being helpful. You and I need to remember that. Because you, my friend, are helpful. God has built you that way.

You are enough.

And there is a third word for you and for me.

Here is enough.

In the church world, there is this odd way of evaluating churches. Sometimes we say that they want a chaplain rather than a leader. It’s used to describe a church that wants to be comfortable, that doesn’t want to be challenged. That kind of a church wants someone to show up and say nice things.

I hate that phrase.

Because there is the actual world, the world where people die and hurt and suffer. The world where people end up in the ER and watch as their partner of 60 years struggles to breath those last few breaths.

And in this world, the world that you live in and love, those people don’t want a leader. They need a chaplain.

And Jesus tries to send us. He tells this story about people who are hungry and naked and sick and in prison and says, “if you go there you are going to me.”

In that list, he doesn’t mention church buildings, he mentions people. He doesn’t mention sermons, he mentions people. He doesn’t mention massive crowds, he mentions people who are ministered to one at a time.

Just what we do.

And we know, right, that when we walk into a room and we pour out our hearts and our silence, and we absorb pain and questions, that in those moments of deep surrender of ourselves for others,

We know that sometimes we meet Jesus as we are walking down that long hallway back to our office.

And we know that here is enough.

In the process of becoming a chaplain at Parkview, between the interview and the job offer, there is a four hour job shadow. We follow along with someone to find out whether this is something we can do.

Kent, I shadowed you.

And as we walked down that long hallway to our office, you talked about how much you love this. Not that it’s easy, but that it suits you, it fits you.

We’re here tonight, not to start something new. But to affirm to you something that we all know about you. God has called you.

Your job, your calling, for the rest of your life, is to learn to live out that calling. And I hope that these truths will help you, my brother.

Here is enough.

You, Kent Louis Green, you are enough.

And God, almighty, loving, and filling, is enough.

I love you.

Peace.