The Right Reverend John Coburn was once asked, oddly enough, if he had a motto. He hadn't thought about it before, he said, but in the moment the question was asked, he realized that, in fact, he did. The motto for his life was: you never can tell.

You never can tell. You never can tell how life will turn out. "I've presided at dozens of weddings in my ministry," he said. "Among them were couples I secretly thought were terrible matches, that despite my predictions went on to have joyful, lasting marriages. Others, who seemed wonderfully compatible at the time, didn't survive a year." You never can tell. "I've ordained many people to the priesthood," he said, "and served as spiritual director to many more. Among them were some I thought would be mediocre priests who went on to have long and fruitful ministries. Others that I predicted would serve the Church nobly, even heroically, later wound up in jail." You never can tell.

You never can tell. When we receive the rosters and information sheets of our next CREDO participants, we might try and guess how we'll experience them in community, but such guessing would be futile. At the end of a conference, after all the conversation, laughter, and prayer is over and we pack up our CREDO plans to go home, again we might predict, this time with more insight, how deeply various individuals were transformed and how their lives might change. Even then I daresay that at least 50 percent of the time we would be wrong.

You never can tell. We simply don't know how to interpret the significance of any meaningful experience while we're experiencing it. We don't know how our interpretations will change over time, only that they will. Is the emptiness we feel at any give moment, to use St. Catherine's imagery, truly emptiness or is it fertile ground? Do we even know what it means to be empty or to be filled? For when we are full, we may be more empty than we realize, and when we are empty, God may be on the verge of filling us with something grand. St. Paul writes of this same dynamic in terms of foolishness and wisdom-"For the foolishness of God is wiser than the wisdom of human beings"-and weakness and strength-"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." What does it mean to be weak or strong, foolish or wise, empty or full? You never can tell.

We in CREDO are in the clergy wellness business, or you might say the clergy strengthening, the clergy filling businesses, and we are for good reason. Jesus needs his ambassadors of reconciliation and healing to be strong, so filled with his love that they can fulfill his commandment to love, so God-confident, as Mark Hollingsworth described it, that others will hear in their words and see in their deeds something of authentic grace. But here's the mystery: in order to be well we must face our areas of disease or lack of self care; in order to be strong, we must explore the terrain of our weakness; in order to be filled, we must allow ourselves to feel emptiness, the weight of grief, disappointment, and loneliness to which none of us is immune. One of the participants of CREDO 45 commented that he felt the curriculum had at its core a presupposition of grief. I wasn't sure how to respond at the time-it certainly isn't CREDO's intention to assume grief, where it doesn't exist. On the other hand, you can't live very long in this world without bumping against the harsher realities of it, and our authenticity as Christ-followers and Christ-bearers is tried and tested where real pain meets real healing, real sorrow is touched by quiet joy, real death is overcome by the power of resurrection. If we don't know that mysterious, up-side-down, paradoxical experience of grace from the crucible of our experience, how can we proclaim Christ?

I've been thinking a lot about what CREDO is for, what ultimate good it serves, how it might be faithful to God's purposes in the big picture, in the real world. You have to admit that CREDO is rather extravagant. The other night Mark Beckwith and I were trying to estimate what the privilege and the gift of our being together these three days cost the church in terms of financial and human resources. We all know that the Pension Fund has made an enormous investment in us, and through us to the clergy of our Church. What is it for? What does our ministry serve? How can we judge if we are good stewards of this extraordinary and lavish gift?

I give you my thoughts. CREDO is, first and foremost, an investment in strength, a commitment to what is good and holy in the life of every ordained person. The investment is extraordinary and arguably a wise strategic move. As Sally Johnson, a preeminent legal authority in our church, has said to me, "Mariann, compared to what the church pays when one of you (clergy) crashes and takes a congregation down with you, CREDO's costs are insignificant." If this investment in strength can prevent even one wrecked clergy life, the cost benefit to the church is worth every penny, not merely for the clergyperson and his or her family, but for the church as a whole. So is CREDO an insurance policy or preventative medicine? Partly so. I've certainly seen something of that potential in my own life, and in every participant who dares to acknowledge, in one way or another, "I'm in over my head, and I need help." What a gift CREDO is, and how smart the Church is to give it.

CREDO also serves to help restore balance and perspective in those whose hearts and souls, as Margo Marris reminded us yesterday, are wearied from overuse. Most clergy come to CREDO and collapse, exhausted. So we give them really good food, rest, provocative ideas, room to think about the most important things, and a safe place to name their demons-all palpable reminders of Christ's enduring love for them. Not surprisingly, most leave restored and renewed for the privilege of ministry, determined to maintain a balance of health and support when they return, so that they might be better equipped to love as Christ loves them. What a gift it is, and how smart the Church is to give it to those upon whose compassion and stamina its ministry depends.

So is CREDO a restorer of balance and health? Absolutely. But wait-there is more.

I think the most important contribution CREDO makes to the life and future of the Church, as an institution, as a conduit of Christ in this world, is this: it helps clarify and embolden vision in our most visionary priests. In every CREDO conference most participants talk about restoring balance and facing some area of their lives that they've been avoiding, some drastic, others an unnecessary source of anxiety, and this is good. But then there are those who go beyond wellness, beyond balance as a goal, and declare their dream, their God-given passion for life and for the Church, their vision of transformation and renewal of their congregation, diocese or community. Listening to them is awe-inspiring, and one can't help but feel excited for the future.

Helping to clarify and embolden the vision of our visionaries, sustaining leadership in the crucible of all that matters, daring to ask the question, what is the wellness for? Scott Peck once said that every priest walks a fine line between mediocrity and crucifixion. It is the responsibility and privilege of every priest and, indeed, every person, to become as clear as we can about the work God has given us to do. I'm not talking about our job; I'm talking about our vocation, our unique calling. Annie Dillard writes of the particular truth that only one writer can express. What is our true work, the work that if we don't do will not be done, the truth that if we don't speak, will not be spoke, the particular articulation of the Gospel that if we don't proclaim, the world will not hear? These are questions worth pondering for the Episcopal Church as a whole as well as for each one of us individually. What does God need, that only we can give? CREDO dares to ask visionary questions, and then creates space for whatever bits of clarity might emerge. I always remind CREDO participants that complete clarity is impossible, but that a little bit of clarity goes a long way. It goes a long way in clearing out distractions and clarifying priorities. For once we know something of what our work is, we know a lot more about what our work is not. Emptiness, I also tell them, can also serve in clarifying vision-the emptiness we humbly acknowledge and offer to God to fill. For when we acknowledge our emptiness we are less tempted to fill it with distractions, and thus better prepared when God chooses to fill us with grace.

Who among CREDO participants will be our greatest visionaries, our inspired Christ-bearers, our Church reformers and world transformers? You never can tell. If we were to guess, at least 50 percent of the time we would be wrong. But this we know: that at every CREDO conference we are in the presence of grace, power, possibility and great courage. CREDO is our offering, to a church and a world crying out for the best of who we are and the best we have to give to the glory of God.