A Resurrection Story

Over the past several weeks, many major news organizations have been posting stories related to clergy stress and burnout.  Both The New York Times and The Huffington Post have provided excellent glimpses into the unusual world of modern pastoral ministry. It is truly a profession where "the old grey mare, she ain't what she used to be."  This morning as I was reading the wide variety of responses to The Huffington Post article, I was reminded that it was a year ago this week when I walked into my District Superintendent's office to resign.

It wasn't the first time I had considered resigning.  The appointment I was serving had stressed me financially, emotionally, physically, and spiritually but I did love the people and I understood what I was being asked to do there.  But on that day, I felt ineffective.  I felt as if my leadership was ineffective.  I felt my preaching was ineffective.  I believed the congregation would be better served by someone else - someone who could be heard and followed.

The situation that had led to this decision had been an issue for quite some time.  It had been discussed among the leadership and the committees involved.  My District Superintendent had noticed it when he visited and my own son confronted me about it when he last visited.  Both parishioners and visitors had mentioned it in their evaluations.  It had to be tackled and the pastor was the only one with the authority to do so.  So after months of prayer, I finally took action.  It was handled as gently and professionally as possible in hopes the response would be equally professional and gentle.  The danger in congregations that tend to be inwardly turned is that most things are personal.  The larger picture often remains in a fog of self-interest.  The response was, unfortunately, personal rather than professional.  Loyalty to those who had been there longest triumphed over effectiveness.  It was the straw that broke the camel's back for me. 

Fortunately, my District Superintendent was not there.  I made an appointment and walked out of the office only to have my iPhone ding with a new message.  It was an email from a shaman.  It was someone who knew me and cared enough about my ministry to confront me with the truth.  He started out by saying, "You may not speak to me after I say these things to you but you need to hear them and it is worth the risk."  We all should have a friend like that.  The email was followed by a phone call.  He was direct and he was personal.  He wasn't there to join my pity party.  His words stung as I was confronted with my own fears, doubts, and lack of faith.  He spoke the truth as he knew it from years of experience in the pulpit and years of reflection since leaving the ministry.

Most of the afternoon and evening were spent in prayer and the next morning, the burden and stress had dissolved.  I kept the appointment with my District Superintendent but the topic of conversation centered around ministry, not resignations.  I retell this story as an example of what is happening to my brothers and sisters in ministry all over the United States.  We become damaged in these constant challenges to be the Kingdom of God in a culture that encourages us to be a civic, social, and/or political organization that uses an emblem of a cross as its logo.  Some colleagues that I know well have become too damaged to be effective and my great fear was that I, too, had crossed that line.

In the midst of the stress, I had become disappointed and disillusioned.  Every day seemed to be another day simply to keep digging the hole that would consume me.  It was a struggle to just be present much less lead.  I had forgotten one of the lessons to be learned from the story of Job - the by-product of suffering is self-absorption.  My ministry had become lost in a fog of self-interest that I had created.

What saved my call was, indeed, the Holy Spirit but it was also a shaman/coach who was experienced enough to see God's larger picture, courageous enough to clear the fog and confront me with the truth, and intuitive enough to understand my calling in the Kingdom.  There are very few of these shamans available and most religious institutions have no idea how to use such a resource.  (I'll save that discussion for another blog.)  Leading congregations in this environment requires pastors to be, as Friedman terms it, a non-anxious presence.  It is difficult to be a non-anxious presence in a world that not only generates its own anxiety but actually hires marketing experts to create anxiety to influence public behavior.  Those of us in pastoral leadership must confront the anxiety created by our own insecurities and deal with them theologically.  You cannot expect a congregation to work through issues theologically if you as a pastor have not modelled it first.

It is now a year later and so much has changed.  I love what I do.  My ministry and my hope have experienced resurrection.  Hopefully, when the stress pops up again, I'll be better equipped spiritually to handle it or maybe the shaman will step in before I actually get into crisis mode.  But today I am profoundly grateful and amazed at how God works.

Reflections on Arlington

The word liturgy means "work of the people". The United Methodist Book of Worship provides liturgy to be used for baptism, communion, weddings, funerals, ordinations, and many other occasions in church life. Some people think liturgy is meaningless since it is not spontaneous but I love liturgy and use it often. Several in my first congregation questioned my use of formal liturgy since their previous pastors had criticized using any formal liturgy. Then one Sunday morning, my Lay Leader asked to address the church. She admitted being one of the chief critics of liturgy but something recently had changed her mind. Within a month's time, she had attended the funerals of two young men under the age of thirty. She knew their families well and was devastated by the loss. Her grief seemed overwhelming until she attended their funeral services. It was in the ritual of the liturgy that provided familiarity and comfort. When the words began, they were like a healing balm to her soul. Now she understood the importance of liturgy. Sometimes we do not need spontaneity - we need structure and we need tradition.

Our military understands this. On Monday, I had the rare privilege of officiating at a military interment at Arlington National Cemetery. My uncle, Robert H. Waldrup, was buried with full military honors. He had served his country with honor in the Air Force and now, with honor, he was laid to rest. The ceremony was highly structured and timed from the transfer of his casket to the securing of the casket on the caisson, to the cermonial march to the graveside and all the elements of the actual service. There was beauty in the ritual and that beauty provided a sense of awe, wonder, majesty, and healing for those who gathered to mourn his death. We, the civilians who benefit from the sacrifice made by the men and women serving in uniform, may take their sacrifice for granted but the military does not. If you want to see how seriously it is taken, see the HBO film, Taking Chance.

I now cringe when someone tells me to just stick them in the ground without service or ceremony. Surely a life well lived deserves the honor of a ritual that gives honor to their lives. The ritual gives the living permission to reflect on the life of another and in that reflection, we may receive some much needed answers for living our own lives.

All or nothing

It is a moment I will never forget. Five days earlier. someone I never met had confronted me with an issue that had been unresolved in my life for twenty-seven years. When I was fourteen years old, I had promised God to do what God asked of me. I knew God was asking something of me but when you are a female in the Southern Baptist tradition, you have a limited understanding of just what that means. God never answered my pressing questions as I finished high school, college, or graduate school. God never spoke up when I moved to Houston to take a job in banking, when I got married or had children. Now here I was, a divorced, single mother with three children starting over and God picks now to tell me what I was called to do. It was an all or nothing proposition and in that moment I committed my all.

You do not fully understand the sacrifice it will require. You do not comprehend how often your heart will be broken or how often you will be misunderstood. You cannot know how you will be brought to your knees or lifted up beyond expectations. The clearer your call becomes the more you are able to accept it all as being part of something far greater than you.

This is my eleventh year in pastoral ministry. I adore the people I serve - they are human just like me. They are a mixed of beauty and pain. They are capable of greatness and pettiness. I stand before them each week wondering how I can make them understand one great truth - you cannot serve yourself and serve God. They say God is important. They claim that their faith is a priority but it isn't. It is a convenience - there when they need it and nothing else more important is taking its place.

At some point, you must make a choice and deferring that choice is a choice as well. If you want a different life, you must make a different choice.

Theology of Cooking

For the last two weeks I've been enjoying a much needed vacation. The time has been spent reconnecting with special people in my life. Some I have been privileged to meet during my ten plus years in ministry but others have been there through some of the most difficult transitions of my life.

When we move from one phase of life to another, we "let go" in order to move forward. As we become more entrenched in our new life, we forget much of what was good in our old life. Yesterday, a movie resurrected a memory. The movie was Julie & Julia, a delightful two hours with Meryl Streep and Amy Adams and their portrayals of cooking legend Julia Child and writer Julie Powell. There is so much in this movie that relates to our everyday life.

We have all been victimized by the bragging friends that make us feel as if we are insignificant. We have all wondered what happened to the great "promise" of our lives as we wallow in mundane daily tasks. Many of us understand the resistance we have experienced in entering a predominantly male profession. We have known times when we have questioned the value of projects we have undertaken. Those are relevant issues but they arenot what touched me deeply in this film.

Once upon a time, I loved to cook. My favorite childhood memory was the joy of my mother's homemade blackberry cobbler and the Sunday evenings when friends came to share that joy. Cooking is not just an art - it is open hospitality. There was nothing more satisfying than planning a party or a meal with friends. It was delightful to plan the menu, shop for the perfect ingredients, prepare the various dishes then share your labor with others. It was a time to bring people together whether it was an elaborate cocktail party for 100 or an intimate dinner party. People appreciated the fine food and wine but I think they appreciated the opportunity to share that meal with others.

My life changed when I became a single working mother and fulltime graduate student. Eventually, my children began looking forward to Thanksgiving when they knew mom would be cooking again. Now, I spend my time trying to feed souls but there are days when I wonder if the food offered on Sunday morning is as nutritious as the food I once served around a table on a Friday night.