After watching too many episodes of “This Old House” and the early HGTV shows (before home renovation became so silly, competitive and dramatic), we once bought a house project. 

The owners had built the house 50 years earlier and made it into a comfortable home. It was solid but quite dated for our taste.

So at the outset, we bought a bunch of replacement doors, lighting, paint and other building supplies that filled the lower garage in expectation of this months-long, hands-on endeavor.

Improving the traffic flow, returning the hardwood floors to their glory, toning down the rampant deep blue interior paint, and building a mantel for the brick fireplace were the first tasks on my ever-growing, prioritized to-do list.

The oddest feature was a kitchen peninsula with a bank of suspended cabinets overhead. The owners enjoyed eating meals there. 

Yet in order to see the television through the opening between the countertop and the cabinets, the handyman owner — with an adapt-rather-than-replace mentality from the Depression era — had shortened the legs on two wooden chairs. 

So my first renovation act was to open up the space by completely removing the upper cabinets and lower peninsula. 

About that time, the rest of my family thought it wise to take off to the beach for a week. So, in solitude, I spent countless hours pulling thousands of carpet staples from the beautiful oak floors that had been covered. And on and on.

The previous owner — whom we knew from church — stopped by to bring some paperwork and entered the destruction zone wide-eyed and mouth agape. Obviously, he was shocked by what was happening to the home he had built and enjoyed for so long.

I didn’t even try to explain what I was doing.

For more than 23 years now, I’ve been given the freedom and support to lead numerous renovation and expansion efforts with the publication and organization known as Baptists Today when first hired — and then Nurturing Faith before merging into Good Faith Media. 

The three previous editors and many of the persons who envisioned and led in the formation and continuation of this independent publishing effort have been most affirming and encouraging. 

Never have I heard, “But that’s not how we did it,” or any suggestion I was messing up their good work. It is my intention to respond in the same way as I hand over the house and the hammer to incoming editor Craig Nash.

Not disinterest, but proper transition means I’ll be supportive from a distance — and not be defensive about any wall removals or furniture rearrangement.

My work over these many years has not been a solo effort by any means. Like in my home renovation efforts, I’ve known when to call on those with expertise well beyond my own. 

And what a crew to work beside for so many years! (Yes, I used a rare exclamation point on the way out.) My wonderful colleagues have included longtime friends. 

Jackie Riley, whom I’ve known since 1975, is not only the best eagle-eye copy editor I have known, but she has continually shown a willingness to step into any needed task. 

Tony Cartledge’s brilliance as a Bible scholar and writer is but one dimension of his giftedness. I marvel at all that he does — and does so cheerfully and well. 

Bruce Gourley and I got acquainted long ago in our shared campus ministry endeavors. His early work in this enterprise involved creating our first online presence. 

Bruce’s contributions as a historian and writer are significant. While I’ll no longer edit those writings, he and I will continue to add to the many miles we’ve hiked together in our national parks and places abroad.

So many other good and talented people — past and present — have made bringing ideas to published realities possible and enjoyable.

Likewise, directors and supporters with tremendous wisdom were readily available whenever I needed to draw upon their gifts and experience. Any attempt to name such persons would run well beyond my assigned word count. 

Since taking on a $1.60-an-hour dishwashing job as a teen, I’ve been continuously employed in some capacity. While I can’t imagine doing nothing, facing a stage of life without the current deadlines, meetings and other commitments is inviting.

My list of volunteer possibilities is growing. And the structure for giving focused attention to continuing the Jesus Worldview Initiative is taking shape.

Most importantly, I am retiring from a job but not friendships — many of which have been formed through my vocational connections. 

So I look forward to what is around the corner — and am staying open to fresh conversations and the exploring of new ideas that might be gratifying. 

But, as much as possible, those will occur over coffee or meals or on hiking trails, rather than by Zoom.