Not ready!

Thus far, Holy Week has not been at all what I had anticipated. I thought I'd read a book that I've had for two years now by Marcus Borg called "The Last Week." Then, I thought I'd be journaling about that - spending some time in silent meditation. Instead of watching TV, I thought I'd still be chipping away at the Moonlight Sonata - which sounds like a wonderful Lenten piece.

Instead, our congregation has two deaths last week which resulted in two funerals on Saturday. I think I picked up a stomach bug, because on the way home from visiting a hospitalized parishioner in a neighboring town on Monday, I started to feel really, really bad. By the time I arrived home, I was sick - had to call the Mister out of a meeting to come home. I don't remember ever being quite that sick before. Anyway, since then, I've been sleeping, resting, or wishing I were sleeping or resting.

Maundy Thursday is tomorrow.

Easter Sunday is just a few days away.

I'm not ready!

Then again, who is ever really ready for Resurrection?

Nine things in nine years

It was on March 7, 2004 that Pullen Memorial Baptist Church ordained me to the Gospel Ministry - that's 9 years ago. I went back and read the sermon that was preached that day and the charge that was given to me. It was a great day - we sang my favorite hymns: "Joyful, Joyful," "Be Thou My Vision," and "Let All Things Now Living." My friend and pastor preached a sermon entitled "The Outrageous Optimism of Ordination." My other friend and pastor gave me the charge - told me to "not just share those places of healing and light and wholeness with those to whom you will minister. Have the courage to offer truth and hope and life as you risk sharing with others your own darkness and brokenness and woundedness. If you dare to do so, your life and ministry will be a source of life and light for others...stay on the journey. Keep building community with those who are different from you. Hold to your particular faith story tradition and continue to position yourself along its edge. It is this kind of community building and belonging that you are called to as one ordained by the church."

I hope I have lived up to the charge...I know I'm not the same person I was nine years ago. As the Mister likes to say, "My youthful optimism has been replaced by experience." And, that's a good thing.

Anyway, I thought it might be fun to post nine things I've learned in nine years of ordained ministry.

1) Everybody is not going to like you. Some will enthusiastically dislike you. This is ok.
2) Church is not the most important thing in your parishioner's lives. Deal with it.
3) Your spouse does not want to talk about church stuff 24/7...and neither does your dog. So, get a hobby.
4) Sometimes your presence means more than any words...so don't worry about the words.
5) When in doubt, keep your mouth shut for 24 hours. Most things can wait 24 hours.
6) Expect to be disappointed every day. Expect to be fulfilled every day.
7) Take your vacation time - all of it. You do not qualify as a "martyr" by working non-stop, but you do qualify as "stupid."
8) Pray. A lot.
9) Never underestimate the Holy Spirit's ability to outsmart you and astonish you.

Not rushed

I am teaching a workshop here at our retreat center on Saturday. Initially, I was bringing two other church members with me, but with the issues from last week, I came alone. I don't mind that so much. They gave me the key to the main building, so that if I want to practice the piano tonight, I have access! I have my coffee pot, my computer, and I brought 9 books for research! I think these 2 days will give my soul a chance to catch up with the rest of me. And, I am enjoying not feeling rushed - having a little time to ponder over Sunday's sermon and over Saturday's presentation. I've got a little extra time for extra prayers for Sunday's small group work, and it is just a gift to not feel rushed.

When I arrived in the little town today, I stopped for lunch. As I was leaving, it was blowing snow and the the wind was wicked. There was a woman walking who asked if I was going in her direction. I wasn't. But, as I drove to the retreat center, I felt bad about leaving her out in the cold, so I turned around and went back and picked her up. Turns out that she usually rides a bike, but she had an accident a couple of weeks ago. She was on her way to the pharmacy and grocery store, and she planned to catch a bus home. I would like to report that our car ride was a spiritual high, but it really wasn't.

It was just a ride. But, you know, sometimes, that is all we are supposed to offer - just a ride, with no other expectations. Somehow, I do believe that little acts of kindness (whether we automatically do them or have to make ourselves turn around for a do-over), make a difference in the world. I do believe that little acts of kindness stands proud next to acts of meanness. I do believe that we are called to bear fruit - and if we can't give little old ladies a ride on a cold day, what good are we?

Kindness is a practice. It is something that I have to be very intentional about. That's why I like coming to this retreat center. It feeds my Spirit. It makes me think about things like kindness and spiritual stuff. It slows me down.

Yesterday, we had a medical emergency at church. After it was all over, I left the hospital and thought about just driving home and taking some Advil for my aching head! But, instead, I went back to the church, gave the firemen next door an update, sat down in the sanctuary, and breathed. Good thing we practiced a breath prayer in my Lenten group.

Sometimes, when I am in the middle of a crisis situation, I think much like I did when I got married...I think, "If I stay calm, everybody else will stay calm. If I keep it together, everybody else will keep it together." Usually, it works that way. I've found that to be especially true at funerals. The family is often exhausted and they need a calm presence to get them through all of the rituals that surround death so that those rituals can be comforting and not even more stressful.

The flip side is that when I am out of crisis mode, I have a moment or two of not being myself. The truth is that emergencies get to me, too. Death gets to me, too. Scary things scare me, too. Sometimes, when I finally get by myself, I have tears. Sometimes, I just stare out the window. Sometimes, I just close my eyes and breathe. Sometimes, I think I do all of that at the same time.

All of that to say...never take your minister's calm for aloofness. We are often doing all that we can to hold it together ourselves...which makes me appreciate all over again the importance of keeping our spiritual lives in shape. You never what the day holds. You never, ever know. So, breathe. Receive the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Getting Off My Spiritual Duff

Last night, Joe and I went out to dinner with some friends from Raleigh. The husband is a former co-worker of mine - we shared an office, but we also shared similar tastes in music and had similar interests in religious and spiritual things. So, we've kept up through the years. The wife is a Presbyterian minister - well, she'll be a retired Presbyterian minister as of tomorrow. They drove here, and we had a nice dinner at one of our favorite local hang-outs.

The thing is...we saw them last December right after Christmas. We promised to get together more, maybe even once a month. And, guess what? Last night was the first time since then that we've all seen each other. Time goes so fast, doesn't it?

So, I started thinking. What have I done this year that has truly prohibited me from keeping up with friends? I really could not come up with much. The truth of the matter is that we did not get together because nobody took the initiative to make the call and the reservation. That led me to further reflections about spiritual things - keeping up with God, for instance - and what a lousy job I do with that sometimes. Sometimes, I just want to wrap up in my snuggie and do nothing. And, that's ok sometimes. That's what I did the week after Christmas, and it was wonderful. I needed the rest. The problem comes when snuggie land is more appealing than real life! The problem comes with trivial things rank higher on my calendar than relationships or God.

So, during this past Advent, I decided to be serious about carving out space and time for God. I took the initiative...every day, I took the initiative. Got a new book that helps me - called "Openings" by James Peacock. Started journaling again - and changed the way I pray. After just a few weeks, it's not work anymore. It is something that I want to do.

Of course, I should not be surprised.

Our friends usually take the time together when we express an interest.

And, God usually shows up (in God's time, of course) when I take the initiative.

So, this year, I'm still going to keep up with my responsibilities. But, I'm going to be careful with my time. I am committed to taking the initiative this year to spend time with God...and with old friends.

Moments

Sometimes, as a minister, I get to see things in a way that nobody else does. For instance, on Christmas Eve, when the entire congregation lifts its candles up on the last verse of "Silent Night," I see it from the front of the church. I get to see all of the candles go up at the same time.

Or, at funerals, when I go down the row with the family at the graveside, I see the grief - up close and personal.

Last Sunday, I had another unique view. I baptized two middle-school aged boys. I'm the only one that gets to see the face of the baptismal candidate when the go under the water...I'm the only one in the baptistery with them. That just hit me last week - it's a face of total vulnerability (and I always pray that I don't destroy their trust in me by dropping them!), and it's a face of excitement and expectation, and it's a face that is leaving behind everything that is not of God and rising up to everything that is...at least that is our prayer.

That's a moment.

That is the kind of moment that inspires me.

Church can be a lot of administrative details - keeping the database up to date, printing mailing labels, typing and photocopying bulletins, ordering curriculum, buying postage, committee meetings, taking out the garbage, watering the plants, email, voicemail...blah, blah, blah...

And, all of that has to be done...

But, all of that can be, well, less than inspiring.

So, when I get a moment - one of those moments that drips God - I cherish it. It's a gift of this vocation called ministry.

It's funny because I suppose most people would call me an introvert - and I am. But, I don't need my usual space when those moments show up. I can be in them. I can be of them. And, I can be thankful for them.

Books

Over the summer, I borrowed a lot of books from the theological library at Drew. It was such a GREAT library, and really, its influence stretches all the way down to North Carolina with its on-line collection. I am in awe of the number of journals and books that are available with the click of a button...if you are student.

Anyway, I borrowed several books, and although they are not due back until the end of December, the postmaster suggested I ship them mid-November if I was using media mail. So, I copied a few chapters (perfectly legal) and then I put them in a box, taped it up with way more tape than was necessary, and printed off my label.

It may sound silly, but I felt a little like I was shipping off old friends. Those books helped me find inspiration for my project. They sat in my dorm room for a few weeks as a I tried to decide which ones I could leave in New Jersey. And, then they served as my backseat driver on my trip home from New Jersey. Since then, they've kept me company in a box behind my desk (I wanted to keep them all together, because I was afraid of losing one), and I've flipped through them a time or two searching for this or that.

Now, I have a lot more space behind my desk, and they are on their way back home - because they were never permanently mine.

I think there is a sermon in that somewhere.