MY CALLING

             Early in my ministry career, I was speaking in a city in Western Canada and the pastor of the church I was speaking at arranged an interview with the local paper.  Rather than ask is I would like to be interviewed, he simply set up the interview and told me to expect the reporter at a certain time.  Since I was a bit less inclined to complain at that stage of my life, I let his rudeness go and was polite for the interview.

During the course of the interview, the reporter asked why I was doing what I was doing.  I used my professional shorthand and told her that it because of my calling from God.  Her lack of much in the way of faith background immediately became clear when she looked at me blankly and asked me to explain what a call was.  I really can’t remember what I said to explain the concept of God’s call but in the end, everything I have done professionally and a lot of what I have done personally is a result of my belief that God has called me to do it.

Now, I don’t get emails, snail mail or phone calls from God.  Nor is his call accompanied by a clear timeline and a specific set of plans and directions.  And at any given time in my life, I can be extremely confused about what God is calling me to; fighting against what I know God wants me to do or begging him to change the call or at least its specific application.

But overall, I believe that one of the consequences of my accepting Jesus as Saviour and Lord is willingness to let God make decisions about what I do and where I do it.  If I have really accepted Him as Lord, that involves my being willing to submit my life to him and allow him to direct me.  For me, that has played out primarily in terms of my work.  I believe that God has called me to make ministry my occupation.  Not everyone is called to that particular career path–but all of us are called by God to serve him and follow him in all areas of life.

For me, knowing and following God’s leading has been important.  It has also mean that I have not always been happy with where the call took me.  In fact, many times I have been more than a bit unhappy with where the call has taken me.  If I had been in charge of my life, I would have bulked up the teaching and researching and writing and basically eliminated the pastoral stuff.

But I am not in charge–or it is probably better to say that I work hard at not being in charge.  Because I have chosen to make God through Christ Lord of my life, in the end, I seek to do what he wants me to do, even if I am not always happy with his leading.  I am free to complain, I am free to pray (beg) for a change–I am even free to simply refuse to do what God asks of me.

But overall, I keep coming back to where God calls me, even when I am not happy.  That almost sounds like I have some serious emotional or mental issues but the truth is, I learned a long time ago that while I may not always be happy with where God is calling me, it is always better for me to be where God wants me to be.  Underneath the struggles and the bouts of unhappiness and even depression, there is a sense of joy and peace that comes from doing what I know God wants.

And in the end, I have also learned that giving up a certain amount of short-term happiness is well compensated for by the deep seated and long term joy and peace that comes from doing what I know God wants and being where I know God wants me to be.

So, that means that at a point in my life when I could easily be done with a career that hasn’t always been the happiest for me, I am still going.  I am still going because this is where God wants me to be and I am doing what he wants me to be doing.  I am sure that retirement is there somewhere down the road–but for now, I will follow the calling and enjoy the joy and peace that comes from that.

May the peace of God be with you.

 

WIRES

I’m sitting in one of the two chairs in the living room where I do most of my work.  Both offer good opportunities for staring out the window when I need to write something but have no idea what to write.  Often, during the course of a session writing a sermon, blog post, Bible Study or anything for that matter, I will begin in one chair.  When the writing is going well, I will stay in the chair.  If it isn’t going well, I will switch chairs–maybe the different view will inspire something.

While the views from the chairs are different, the both have some things in common.  From both of them, I see trees.  I also see a portion of the street in front of the house and a bit of the marsh that fills up when the tide comes in.  And both provide me with an opportunity to watch the deer and squirrels that are frequent visitors to our street.

And because I much prefer looking at trees and natural stuff, I tend not to notice another significant part of the view–the power line pole in the middle of our front lawn, with its four different wires on it and the five wires that come from it to our house.  The top one coming to the house is the power line, a vital connection that I am happy about.  I have lived and worked in places with no power or limited power so having regular, consistent electricity is something I enjoy.

One of the lines is a cable line, which is also vital to me anyway–not so much because of the TV content (although I do appreciate that) but mostly because the cable supplier is also our internet supplier and I, like many people, am somewhat addicted to being connected.  One of the other wires is from the phone company but since we don’t have a landline, that wire is pretty much useless.  The other two–well, I have absolutely no idea what they are for but since we don’t own the house, their presence doesn’t really bother me, except it means I have to be a bit more careful not to hit them during my infrequent sessions with my drone.

So, the question is why am I writing about the wires?  It could be that the reason is that this is Monday morning and I need to have something done to post on the blog to satisfy my own self-imposed deadlines–and since I have already written about the tress outside the window, that leaves the wires.

Actually, although that may have been part of the reason, really seeing the wires this morning showed me a couple of interesting things.  The first is the ability I have not to see the various lines and wires outside the window.  While I like the products provided by the wires (electricity, internet, TV), I don’t particularly like looking at the wires.  When  I look out the window, I want to see the trees, the deer, the state of the tide, or whose car is driving by.  And so I simply blank out the wires.

We all have a tendency to blank out what we don’t want to see.  When I am ignoring the wires in favour of the trees, that is a normal and understandable process.  But unfortunately, we human beings are able to do this in all kinds of situations, many of which are a problem.  As a species, we are really good at ignoring a lot of what is right in front of us so that we don’t have to deal with it.

When I make one of my infrequent trips to the city, I am good at not seeing the panhandlers on the sidewalk–if I don’t see them, I don’t have to deal with them or the social issues that lead to panhandlers.  When I watch the news on TV (via the second wire), I can ignore the videos of refugees and the starving and the corruption that produces so much of the first two.  When I am working, I can ignore the signs that tell me someone needs more attention than the sermon that I think I should be working on.

If it was just me that has this selective vision, it would be a problem but not a major one.  Unfortunately, we human being are way too good at not seeing the wires that we don’t want to see.  But just because we don’t want to see the wires doesn’t mean they aren’t there and it definitely doesn’t mean we can ignore them.

May the peace of God be with you.

WHAT NOW?

Recently, several things have come together to suggest that I am not where I used to be.  It began one morning on vacation.  Our almost six year old granddaughter was playing with sidewalk chalk and decided that it would be great fun for her to draw my outline on the pavement.  I thought it would be fun as well, until I remembered that while I might get down on my back on the pavement, I probably wouldn’t get up, at least not without serious complaining from my knees.

I also spent some time with a friend who is planning a major week long wilderness hike along a trail that I had done a few years ago.  He gave me a serious invitation to join the group, an invitation that I very quickly turned down–it my knees can’t deal with getting up off of pavement, they are definitely not going to deal well with that hike.

Then, after getting back, I was catching up on some bits and pieces including looking at our denominational website.  I clicked to the page telling about various pastoral changes and discovered that a lot of pastors were retiring this year.  Some were part of my peer group and some were actually second career pastors whom I had taught during my various teaching stints.

But what probably tied these things together was the fact that I turned 65 during our vacation–one of the few birthdays I have been able to spend with at least some of our kids in a long time.  Normally, I am not too concerned with age but culturally, 65 is a significant point.  We get to retire, start drawing pensions and enjoy senior discounts.

But since I had decided a while ago that I was wasn’t ready to retire this year and so have deferred all my various pensions, I didn’t expect to pay much more attention to the birthday than any other.  The senior discount is a nice perk, but I am discovering that there are enough restrictions that even that may not be all that great.

So, I am 65.  In some ways, that doesn’t make any difference–I couldn’t have been a chalk model for my granddaughter last year or two years ago.  While I could retire, I am committed to the churches I work for a while yet–we are involved in things that will take more time to process.

But at the same time, it does make a difference.  I am discovering that I am not what I used to be and not what I see myself as.  Mentally, I have tended to see myself as some indeterminate age between 40 and 55–an age where I have few physical limits, good career prospects and lots of options.  But the reality of 65 is that I have serious physical limits, mostly associated with arthritis and other age-related issues.  My career options are limited–most congregations aren’t looking for 65 year old pastors and other options want the potential for a longer commitment.

On the other hand, I am 65.  I am doing what I am called to do to the best of my ability.  I might not be able to do a week long wilderness hike or lie down on pavement but I can use the exercise bike and find other ways to play with my grandchildren.  I might not have all the career options I once had but I am comfortable with the calling that God has given me right now and an content to let tomorrow take care of itself, or rather, to trust that God is at work taking care of tomorrow.

I am 65–do I feel 65?  Sometimes, I do–and sometimes I don’t.  In a week or two when the newness of 65 wears off, I am  probably going to treat my age as I always have.  It is there, it is a reality and I don’t need to let it have too much effect on me as I deal with the realities of my life.  There are things a lot more significant to deal with than the number of years I have accumulated.  But, if the senior discount is a good one, I will flash the 65 to get it.

May the peace of God be with you.

TREES

A few years ago, I had a stretched muscle in my back that made sitting at a desk very painful.  Since I was well into laptops at that point, the obvious solution was to do as much of my work as possible sitting in a comfortable chair that didn’t aggravate the pain in my back.  Eventually with the help of therapy, my back got better.  But by then, I was so comfortable working in the living room that it became my permanent office.  I still have a desk in our home office and it serves a very important purpose–it provides a place to put everything that I need to deal with sometime but not right now.  Normally, I try to clean it up sometime before the pile falls over and crushes the robot vacuum cleaner.

So, what does that have to do with the title of this post?  There is actually a connection.  Sitting at a desk, I tend to focus on the desk and other office junk–the printer, the books, the calendar telling me what I have to do and on and on.  It is a work environment and while it might be effective to have all the work stuff in one place, it isn’t an overly inspiring or creative environment for me.  Working in the living room, well that is a very different thing.  I have the laptop I am working on.  If I need something else, like a hymn book to plan worship, I have to go get it.  Since the coffee table beside the work chair also holds a candle, some plants, my coffee cup or cereal bowl and occasionally my feet, there isn’t a lot of room for much else.

I get to focus on what I am working on–and when the inspiration isn’t flowing or my spelling is so bad that even Spell-check can’t figure it out, I can look out the window.  Looking around in the office shows me stuff that needs to be done.  Looking out the living room window allows me to see trees.  Right now, the maples and the oak are in full leaf, the pine is showing its different coloured growing tips and the unknown berry bush is in bloom.  If I look a bit more to the right, I can see the tidal flat and the hills and trees beyond that.  If I look carefully, I don’t need to look at the lawn that needs mowing.

This is important to me because trees are an important part of my relaxation process.  Being able to see trees somehow relaxes me and helps me think.  When the sermon isn’t coming together or the blog post doesn’t make sense or the phone call goes on and on, being able to look at trees provides a break and a whiff of peace and relaxation.  And, if one of the local squirrels happens to be performing in the tree when I look up, that is even better. Staring at trees does much more for my mental and spiritual health that staring at a desk (cluttered or clean) ever did.  Looking at a wall of green leaves and needles is a much more powerful mini-break than looking at a wall with a calendar, a bulletin board and some pictures.  Even looking at shelves full of books, as helpful as that is for me, doesn’t have the same effect as resting my eyes on trees.

I am not recommending this for everyone.  But I would suggest that all of us have something that has this same sort of relaxing effect.  My wife likes to see water–rivers, lakes, oceans.  Some like to see children at play.  A friend likes to see his car–or any car for that matter.  There may even be some people who get that jolt of relaxation from looking at a cluttered desk and functional office space.

I think it is important that we learn about ourselves and what makes us tick and what makes us relax and build our daily rhythms around these insights.  I have always known that trees relax me but it took a serious back pain before I learned that I could incorporate that insight into my actual work.  I don’t know how much more effective and efficient my work is because of being able to see trees when I write but that doesn’t really matter–and if I ever need to quantify the effect, staring at the trees will help me figure out how calculate the effect.

Anyway, the squirrel is back and the tide is coming in.

 

May the peace of God be with you.

IT’S RAINING

The weather forecast was right–it predicted rain for today and when I got up, it was raining, something that is putting a bit of a down spin on my day.  Now, I really don’t have any plans for being outside today.  I mowed the lawn earlier in the week based on the long range forecast that predicted rain for today.  I have a bunch of things to do that require me to be inside various buildings or the car for most of the day.

About the only ways the rain today affects me are I probably won’t go for a walk if it is raining hard but since the majority of my exercise is accomplished on the exercise bike, that isn’t a big issue.  But nonetheless, the dark and drippy day is making me feel a bit down–not depressed and nothing serious but just a bit down, a different feeling than I have when the sun is shining.

I am probably not alone in my reaction to the weather today and by itself, that really isn’t all that much to blog about.  But when I had been up for a bit and realized my emotional response to the rain, I realized that there have been times in my life when the same kind of day produced a very different emotional response.

During the times when we have lived in Kenya, rain produced a very different reaction.  Most of Kenya is dependent on rain for its water supply.  There isn’t a lot on the way of water infrastructure and what there is depends on rain.  At times, our water supply was two 1000 gallon water tanks filled by the rainwater off the roof of our house.  During the long six month dry season when those tanks were empty, our water supply consisted of two five gallon jerry cans that went everywhere the car went that there was a chance of getting some water.

The last time, we lived in a town that had a municipal water system.  A couple of times a week, the town turned our water on and the 500 liter tank in the attic filled with enough water to keep us going until the next time the water was turned on.  This depended on how many breaks there were in the water line, how careful we were with our water, and how full the rain-filled town reservoir was.  During the long dry season the twice a week water supply dwindled and stopped and our water supply consisted of the two buckets I carried up three flights of stairs from the backup reservoir in the parking lot.

So, when we are in Kenya, waking up to a rainy day produced a feeling of pleasure and a sense that this was going to be a good day.  Rain in Kenya produced the kind of emotional uplift for everyone that a bright, warm sunny day does here in rural Nova Scotia.

This suggests many things to me, among which is the deep reality that we human beings are much more adaptable and flexible that we often give ourselves credit for.  And if we are more flexible and adaptable that we think, that means that we probably don’t need to get as bent out of shape about things as we sometimes do.  The problem isn’t really the external events or circumstances but the way I am choosing to react to them.  Am I looking at the rain as a Nova Scotian or a Kenyan?

And because I am a Christian, that suggests to me that I need to work at making sure that my Christian faith plays a big part in how I look at life and its realities and in how I respond to life.  Rather than seeing my faith as an add on that only kicks in when I am in worship or somewhere where being a Christian is required, I need to work at placing my faith in the centre of my response to life.

Do I view the stranger in town from a basically mono-cultural Nova Scotian, a multi-cultural Kenyan or a supra-cultural Christian viewpoint?  My response to the stranger varies depending on which set of cultural norms I bring to the front.  I would like to say that my Christian norms trump all the others but I try to be honest here.  Like my response to the rain today, I need to work more on what I respond with.

May the peace of God be with you.

TIME AND TIDE

The house we live in sits just above a tidal flat.  At low tide, we see a flat grassy meadow that stretches to the dike along the river bank in the distance.  At high tide, the meadow disappears to varying degrees, depending on the phase of the moon.  When the moon is full, the whole flat disappears and the water comes near to the top of the dyke.  Fortunately, our house is 10-15 meters above the highest tide mark so I can watch the tide without wondering if I need to invest in a canoe for emergencies.

But even though I can watch this twice daily process, I tend not to pay much attention.  If people had asked me where the tide was, I probably couldn’t answer–or that was the case until recently. For the past few months, I have been paying close attention to the tides and can easily tell people what stage the tide is at.

This didn’t come from a concern about raising ocean levels because of global warming.  There is a spot near our house that is so affected and before much longer, a really high tide is going to go over the road there–but I have known that for years and there are other ways to get to where that road leads.  And as I mentioned, we have several meters beyond the most pessimistic predictions of ocean level rise.

What changed for me is that I build a tide clock.  I like clocks and I like building clocks.  So my winter project was to design and build a tide clock.  It wasn’t as quick a process as I thought–the winter was much busier than I anticipated and my wood-working skills were much rustier that I expected.  But the clock is done and sits on the mantle in the living room.  When I am sitting in my working chair in the living room, I can see the tide clock and the tidal flat with just a slight turn of my head.  When I walk into the room during the day time when the curtains are open, I automatically check the clock and the tide.

Part of that began as I worked at regulating the clock.  Although I can look up tide times on the internet, I did have to set the clock hand that tells the state of the tide.  And while the mechanism is interesting, it is a bit hard to adjust perfectly and so I have been tinkering with it since I placed it on the mantle–I think I have is set now but I will continue to watch it.

There is a parable here–remember, I am a preacher and therefore can’t let something just be something–it also has to be something else to feed the insatiable demand for stories to keep people interested on Sunday.

And so the meaning of the parable is this.  I live beside a tidal flat but because the coming and going to the tide has no affect on me personally, I ignore it.  My house is safe from the highest tide predictable; I don’t make my living digging for clams at low tide; I don’t need to know when I can get my boat out from the wharf and the only road that might have some affect on my life is easily bypassed.  The tide comes and goes and has no affect on me.

But as soon as I build a tide clock, I have a personal interest in the tide.  It makes a difference to me where the tide is.  Sure, the difference is only because I want to check the accuracy of the new clock–but I am still interested.

So, we live in a world where there is a great deal wrong, which we ignore because we can’t perceive a direct effect on us.  Some, we can ignore.  Some, we can pretend isn’t a problem.  Some, we have to deny.  And in truth, some we have to work really hard to avoid.  As long as we can tell ourselves it doesn’t affect us, we can ignore it, at least until it becomes too personal.

But as believers, we are called to be involved with the world–instead of ignoring the darkness and its effects, we are to shine the light of God into the darkness.  We didn’t create the light–but we have been given the light.  We need to turn it on and challenge the darkness because whatever we want to think, we do have a personal stake in making the darkness go away, a personal stake that came to us through Jesus Christ.

May the peace of God be with you.

A DIFFICULT BALANCING ACT

When I am bored or finishing up my time on the exercise bike, I spend a few minutes watching Youtube.  One of the story lines these days shows a guy walking on a webbing strap stretched between two anchor points several feet above the ground.  Since this is Youtube, the likelihood when the video starts is that things will go wrong.  Inevitably, the walker loses his balance and falls with one foot on either side of the strap, which snaps back into place now that the weight is off it.  The painful results have convinced me that this is something I never want to try.

However, I realize that I have been struggling with an equally difficult balancing act for  most of my life.  For as long as I can remember, I have been struggling with the balance between individual freedom and community responsibility.  I belong to a denomination (Baptist) which developed out of a desire for a greater role of personal freedom before God in organized faith–and have remained in that denominational family because of that foundational principle.

Yet at the same time, I have struggled with freedom that tramples on others, which often happens when people begin to think that their personal freedom (or needs or desires or wants or wishes) are absolute and take priority over everything else, including the freedom of others.   Having been on the receiving end of that sort of treatment a few times, I may be a bit more sensitive to it than some.

At the risk of over-simplifying the problem, let me try an illustration.  I am colour blind–the red-green version of this problem. (I know I should probably be saying “colour-deficient” but I have been using colour blind for so long that I am going to exercise my freedom to use the term I am familiar with.)  I struggle with anything beyond a very clear green and very clear red–once people start mixing colours, I am lost.  And so I live with and around that.  I only wear colours that I can easily identify.  I ask for directions using civic addresses not house colours.  I paint walls with whatever paint someone else picks out and will never notice if the tint is slightly off.  I use words like “light” or “dark” rather than colour names.

I choose to live in as colour-neutral a world as possible–not a world where colour doesn’t exist but where it has as little an effect on my life as possible.  That is my choice and in some ways, my need.  And when it comes to my shirts and my directions and my painting, it works well for me.  I avoid looking like a clown wearing mismatched clothing, I generally find the right location and I get the walls painted.  I have the freedom to choose my own course as a colour-blind individual in a coloured world.

But the coloured world keeps getting in my way.  I subscribe to a science magazine which has all sorts of great articles–some of which come with informative graphics like pie charts and graphs and other neat ways of presenting blocks of interesting information.  Most of them use colours to present the information, a simple and easy way of portraying information clearly–except for me, it becomes a meaningless blob of frustration because I normally can’t tell the differences in the colours.

Obviously, the whole publishing industry needs to change because of me–well, because of me and all the other colour challenged people in the world who get equally frustrated with those graphics.  They will have to present the information in other ways so I can understand it–shading and cross-hatching of various kinds would work.  And, while we are at it, maybe we need to change the fashion world so that colours are banned as well.  And maybe we should get legislation passed that limits the number of crayons in a package and makes sure that each is clearly labeled–and colouring books are marked with which crayon is appropriate for each space.  We could also require cars to be white or black, although natural metal colour might also work.

I think I just fell off the webbing strap.

May the peace of God be with you.

SMALLER AND SMALLER

Somewhere in my education career, I learned a neat word that describes a somewhat nasty human process.  I think I first ran into it during high school history classes when we were looking at the political roots of the first world war.  As near as I can remember, many of the smaller middle and central European regions began seeking independence.  They wanted to form countries based on specific ethnic groupings.  This process was given a name by historians, a name that reflected the geographic location of many of these groups.  Since most were located in the Balkan region, the process was called “balkanization”.

The difficulty was that many of these groups defined themselves partly in terms of who they were and partly in terms of who they weren’t–they often wanted it to be clear that they were not part of other groups.  In fact, one of the keys to understanding the balkanization process is that the various groups not only wanted freedom for their group but also wanted dominance over the other groups.  According to historians, the regional tensions and squabbles among these groups was an underlying cause of the ensuing war.

The word isn’t all that common these days–unfortunately, the process is all too common.  We can see the process at work in the classical sense in parts of the world:  sections of Africa and even eastern Europe are engaged in movements to become independent of groups they consider less valuable than they are.  But we also see the process working itself out in less traditional ways–various political parties are finding ways to appeal to smaller and smaller groups in their attempts to build support.  Often, the rhetoric used by these groups includes a great deal of anti-other talk.

Even the church isn’t immune from the balkanization process.  In the past, it wasn’t uncommon for various denominations to make sure that its members knew who they weren’t.  I know people within my denominational family who know more about the “heresies” of other denominations than they actually know about the doctrine and polity of our particular group.

These days, balkanization is also taking another form.  Groups within denominations are claiming to have the real truth about the denominational distinctives–and making it clear that their grasp of the truth makes them better than those who see it somewhat different.  Those within my denominational family who use the KJV of the Bible like to make sure that those of us who use more modern translations know we are on the wrong track and might have endangered our place in heaven by losing sight of the “truth”.

The logical extension of this process is the one congregation denomination made up of those who have seen the truth and know that it can only be expressed outside the bounds of denominations.  True believers would not be caught dead in a denomination.

Balkanization is a serious danger in many areas–but since I am part of the church and have spent most of my life working in, with and for the church, I have seen and experienced the dangers of balkanization there from a very personal perspective.  From my earliest experiences in ministry, I have experienced the problems that come from this process.

During my first year of university, we were required to read the Bible from a relatively new translation, the New English Bible.  That requirement caused serious problems for some students, who felt that this was somehow a compromise of the faith–after all, if the KJV was good enough for Paul, it is good enough for us.  I later discovered that because I wasn’t pre-(or post- or a-) mil in my theology, I was missing the point and wandering into heretical territory.  If I read a prayer during a worship service, I was slipping away from the true faith which was based on free, spontaneous prayer, not the stifling, stilted rote prayers in a book.

Even today, I see and experience the balkanization process as work.  I happen to like to old hymns of the faith–but true believers these days need to follow the Spirit through the use of modern choruses, preferably projected on a screen.

It seems that one of the trends of the faith is more and more restricted views of truth, views that focus as much or more on what they aren’t than on what they are.  Unfortunately, history has taught us that balkanization never has a positive outcome–and no amount of noise will make it a valuable process.

May the peace of God be with you.

WHAT AM I DOING?

There are some days when I have no clue what I am doing, at least in terms of what I am doing as a pastor.  It is important to remember the context here.  I have been involved in some form of ministry since 1973.  Although I have done many different things during that time, I have primarily been a pastor, serving small rural congregations in western Nova Scotia, Canada.  I have advanced education in ministry and have taught other pastors at schools in Canada, Kenya and Rwanda.  I have done seminars and workshops and conferences geared towards pastors.  And so when I saw that there are some days when I have no clue what I am doing as a pastor, it isn’t because I have no background.

Nor am I doing the false modesty thing–you know, pretending that I am less capable than I really am.  I am actually being honest here–there are a lot of times when I really don’t know what I am doing in ministry.  And that is a culturally difficult admission because I do ministry in a climate when pastors are supposed to be all knowing and all capable leaders who have a vision and a plan and who are going to build the next great mega church.

I have read all that stuff and have even attended a few of the conferences on vision and stuff like that.  And for a short spell a few years ago, I was actually doing workshops on the vision process.  Being me, I took a different approach to the vision process, suggesting that the vision for the church needed to arise from the church and that the pastor’s real task was helping the congregation see and articulate their own home-grown vision.  So I know the expectation of other pastors–I should be a vision-casting, purpose-driven inspired and inspiring leader who knows where he is going and where the church needs to go.

But the truth is that most days, I have difficulty articulating a vision for anything, let alone the church.  I feel many days that I really have no clue what I am doing.  Of course, that isn’t entirely true.  I know that I have to lead Bible Study, preach on Sunday, visit the sick, connect with the congregation, be open to emergencies and unexpected calls and all that.  But at the same time, there are many days when I couldn’t tell you why I do these things and how they fit into some overall scheme of things.

In short, I really don’t have much of a vision for the churches I pastor.  Some of the stuff being produced these days about vision and leadership would suggest that this is why I have spend my ministry career in small congregations–if I don’t have a vision and a plan to implement the vision, I won’t get anywhere.

Some of this not knowing comes about because I am still relatively new in the congregations I serve and I have discovered that developing a real and meaningful vision for a church takes time and effort on the part of the church and the pastor.  After I am there for a few more years, the church and I will probably have a sense of what God’s vision for the church is.  I have some hints and glimpses of that in the congregation I have been working with for a couple of years now.

But when I really think about it, I realize that the stuff I am doing as a pastor is often the goal and purpose of my calling anyway.  I have never sensed God calling me to be a visionary.  I am called and gifted to be a pastor and teacher–or, to use one variation of the list of gifts found in Ephesians 4.11, I am a pastor/teacher.  I care for people in the name of God, doing things like preaching and teaching and visiting and caring and counselling and praying and answering the phone and returning calls and responding to emergencies.  The things I do don’t always have some great visionary purpose-they just need to be done because that is what God has called me to do.

If in the process, God chooses to use the things I do to help me and the church develop some greater vision and purpose, I hope and pray that we are open to seeing that vision.  But even now, the things I do are important and so when I say I don’t know what I am doing, maybe I am saying that I don’t know where things fit in some cosmic vision–but I do them because they are important and I have been called to do them and maybe that is enough, at least for now.

May the peace of God be with you.

WORK AROUND OR RESET?

Since one of the churches I serve is closing down for three months, I have some extra time.  I am sure that most of it will get filled up with a variety of things that I can’t plan on or foresee but I do have plans for some of it.  I bought some clockworks and am going to build a tide clock.  The clockworks only need a battery to work–but the clock body is my project for the next few weeks.

I haven’t done too much wood working for the last few years for a variety of reasons and so my skills are a bit rusty.  I am as good as ever at turning nice pieces of wood into sawdust but getting the remaining wood to look like it is supposed to is a bit harder.  In fact, the nice piece of clear, kiln dried pine that I bought to build the clock body is currently sitting on the work bench in small pieces that don’t quite fit together as I planned on them fitting together.

They will work, sort of, especially if I make some changes in the original plan.  The clock won’t look quite like I saw it in my mind but if I make the changes, it will look okay and will definitely tell me the time and the state of the tides.  Now, of course, as a preacher, this reality sparked all kinds of thoughts.  I can and probably will use the clock as a sermon illustration some day, showing how God often has to alter his perfect plans for us to make up for our less than perfect execution.  God has proven himself a master at work-arounds, at least in my life.  Some days, I feel that God’s plan A for my life has been reworked around my mess ups that we are currently on plan ZZZzz, version 1.3.

I have used the work-around route in my ministry more times than I can count.  None of us is perfect and when we come together, our imperfections interact and, well, work-arounds become the order of the day.

But with this clock project, I didn’t want a work around, not even if it would give me a funny and effective sermon illustration.  I liked the original plan, even if it only existed in my head.  I could still see what I want the clock to look like.  And so the more I thought of the work around, the less I liked it.  So, I am not going to go with the work-around.  I am starting over.  I know what caused the problem and I am pretty sure I can avoid it.  The small pieces that won’t fit together will either get incorporated in another project or start a fire–dry pine is great (but expensive) kindling.

But I am still a preacher and so there has to be an illustration in there somewhere.  Right  now, it looks like the potential sermon story focuses on the fact that sometimes, we work around and sometimes, we start over.  The real key is knowing when to do which, as far as I am concerned.  I can afford to start the clock over–I have lots of time since there is no deadline for finishing it; I can afford another piece of kiln-dried pine since the clock body will only require a short length and most of all, I won’t be content with a work around for this clock, or at least the work around I was facing.  Given my woodworking skills, the ultimate clock will definitely have work arounds but at least it won’t have this one.

I am not a perfectionist but I do have some standards and desires.  For me, much of my approach to woodworking and the rest of my life for that matter is summed up by some words of wisdom from a professor I encountered early in my university life.  He was talking about writing papers but the words work for most things:  “Do the best you can with the time you have”.  I might alter it a bit to have it say, “Do the best you can within the circumstances you find yourself” but either way, it is good advice for woodworking and life.

May the peace of God be with you.