SENSOR CHECK

It’s was about a week and a half before Christmas and I had to go to the town where everyone goes to do their Christmas shopping. Part of the reason for my trip was to finish my Christmas shopping—as much as I like online shopping, I need to check out the real stores because there are just some things I have to see before I know they are just what I want. Beside, the backlog from the mail strike was making delivery times sort of vague.

But the Christmas shopping was actually an add on to the real reason for the trip. I had to be fitted for my new hearing aids and get my eyes tested. I referred to it as a sensor check with a friend which led to an extended conversation about the bionic man and what his enhancements would look like today. But for me, there is something about going for both appointments on the same day that causes me to think and wonder.

On some levels, the reality of sensor enhancements is great. Eye glasses mean that I can read whatever I want whenever I want and enjoy the beauty of our area. Hearing aids mean that I can hear what people say to me without asking them to repeat stuff a million times. When I get around to having my aging knees replaced, I will be able to walk without as much pain and complaining. That part is all good for me and everyone else who makes use of the medical and technological enhancements.

But somehow, combining the two appointments with Christmas shopping made for a very difficult and tiring day. Now, it made perfect sense to join them all together—it is an hour drive one way to the shopping area and I try to be as ecologically sensitive as is possible for a rural pastor serving two different spread out pastorates.

The day didn’t start too badly—as usual, I was early and had time to check out one possible present before the first appointment. But then things started going bad—I used the wrong credit card to buy the present. That was only a minor problem—the real problem was that the five minutes it should have taken to get to the first appointment was taken up just getting out of the store parking lot—obviously, I wasn’t the only person shopping that day.

I did arrive at the appointment on time and had my eyes tested, including having drops which made everything look funny for a bit. But now, the rush was on. There was time for some quick reconnaissance and lunch before the second appointment—and I really don’t like being rushed. I am more of a contemplative, think things through, don’t rush personality which, when combined with my obsession for being early at everything means that I spend the next block of time checking my watch and running the time and travel calculations in my head. Ultimately, the calculations suggested I leave and have lunch at a less desirable spot that had the advantage of being near the second appointment—no need to find another parking space.

Anyway, in the end, I survived the day. I have new hearing aids which I am going to hate, at least until I get used to them at which point I will love them. I have new glasses coming—another trip up the Valley. And I got the Christmas shopping done and even managed to surprise myself with a couple of the selections. But when I got home, I was tired and borderline grumpy.

I realize that I don’t do rushed and stressed and over-scheduled all that well. Some of it is likely a function of age and some of it probably has to do with the fact that most of the time, I am rushed and stressed anyway and therefore don’t have the capacity to add the extra that comes from a day like this one—although, to be honest, I did cope with the day. Maybe most of the problem is my reaction to stress not so much the handling of the stress. Maybe my problem is that I forget I am capable of doing what I need to do and letting myself forget that allows room for counterfeit stress to thrive.

May the peace of God be with you.

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LIFE IS GREAT!

I ran into a friend recently whom I haven’t really connected with since his retirement over a year ago. We were both involved in the same event so didn’t have a lot of time to talk but we did exchange the basic information pertinent to our relationship: my knees are worse, he is now serving a church quarter time, I am not retired, he is loving retirement. He sort of wondered why I wasn’t retired because he is finding retirement to be really great.

I could, I suppose, have questioned how great retirement is if he is back at work after such a short time—I think he had been retired only a few months before he started at his new position. He was also involved in the same inter-church program I was in that evening as well, which suggests that maybe his retirement isn’t as retiring as he wanted me to believe. I have no doubt that his life is great right now and that he is enjoying himself—but maybe retirement isn’t the whole reason why he is doing well.

Life needs purpose and direction and meaning, I think. For most people, that is found in the process of work and family and the normal stuff that we do along the way. I am aware that that is a significant over-generalization but I think it does contain a lot of truth as well. I do know that there are many people whose work and family and living situations don’t provide sufficient purpose and direction and meaning. But the truth is that most of us find enough in the realities of living and working to keep going, even if we have times when we want more.

And that is why for many people, retirement creates some serious problems. Suddenly, everything that provided meaning and purpose and hope is gone—and for some people, it is really hard to replace that. In one fishing village that I used to be the pastor for, the men used to have a way of expressing it: a fisher who retired and didn’t go back to the wharf regularly died within a year of retirement. I think they recognized the reality that losing work and not having anything to replace it produced a hopelessness that made life hard to continue.

While this has traditionally been a problem with men, it is becoming more and more a problem for all people. In a more traditional times in the past, men worked outside the home and women worked inside the home, meaning there was still a purpose and meaning for the woman since their job of cooking and cleaning and care giving as still needed. But with everyone needing to work, everyone faces the life dilemma of what gives meaning after retirement.

Some of my older friends in ministry approach this problem by having several retirements. They retire, accept a call to “interim” ministry, retire again, accept another call and so on. I like to joke that they just do this because they really like retirement parties. More likely, they don’t like the feelings that come from not doing what was so important and central to their lives.

So, why write about retirement aside from the fact that it was on my mind after talking with my happily “retired” friend? I suppose part of it is because I plan on retiring someday. I am not sure when—the ministry I am doing now isn’t done yet and I want to see where God is taking me and the churches I have been called to. But I am past retirement age, my pensions will provide a comfortable income, my aging process is producing more and more aches and pains and limits and I am beginning to think that it will be nice at some point to wake up on the morning and not have to get moving because the sermon isn’t done or there is that meeting or I need to lead worship.

So, I am planning on retiring someday—but I am also planning my retirement already. I have a list of things I would like to do and explore. Nothing is written down but I keep seeing and thinking of things I want to try when I have some time. I want to learn how to make chocolate croissants and built scale model Cape Island boats for example. Will that be enough? I don’t know—but if it isn’t, I guess I can try my friend’s part time retirement approach.

May the peace of God be with you.

THE CANE

For the past few weeks, my very old knees have been complaining about still being engaged in the work of carrying me around. They have been complaining for years but for some reason, this last couple of weeks has seen the complaining develop into a sort of strike. One knee became so weak and painful that walking became seriously difficult—and since the other knee is weaker to start with, the extra strain on it meant that I began to sit lot and waited until there were several reasons to get up.

And, because I can’t sit all the time, I dug out my cane and started using it when I had to go further than a few feet. This was a major event for me. I am somewhat stubborn, somewhat independent, somewhat dedicated to accomplishing what I want to do free of help. I resisted glasses as a teenager for several months; I resisted hearing aids at a 60+ year old for several years and I resisted the pain in my knee for longer than anyone knows. But I realized that if I was going to make it from the car to the church hall for Bible study, I would need the cane—rolling along wouldn’t be all that successful while carrying my briefcase and water.

It wouldn’t be all that big a problem, though, because I always arrive first and would be inside and settled before anyone else arrived. And, if I followed my usual practise of being the last one to leave, most wouldn’t even notice my limp or the cane. Although I joke sometimes about using the cane to garner sympathy, I really don’t like the limits the cane illustrates or the multiple questions and so on that accompany the cane.

Shortly after I began the drive to the study, I realized I was in trouble. The long awaited resurfacing of our road was underway—and I managed to arrive at the work site just as the traffic going my way was stopped. There was still time but as the wait stretched on into minutes, I began to fidget and wonder how much longer and all the rest. There are no other practical routes from my house to the Bible study so my only choice was to wait. Finally, we were allowed through, although we had to drive slowly behind the guide truck for what seemed like hours. I couldn’t even make up a lot of time after we were free of the work area because several of the cars in front of me were obviously being driven by people seeking to save the planet by poking along well under the speed limit.

But I could still arrive before most people, I thought, at least until I came up to the second set of road works and flagperson, who also timed their work perfectly to stop me for another several minutes, followed by another slow trip behind the follow me truck and another forced speed reduction by the drivers in front.

I finally arrived—and most of the members of the study were there, either standing by the locked door (the person who normally opens the door and turns on the heat was away that day) or sitting in their cars waiting. So, I park, open the door and crawl out of the car and stand unsteadily as I juggle my briefcase, water and cane. By the time I was standing with everything sort of in control, most of the study group was right there, asking what was wrong, if they could help, did I need anything, was I okay.

Eventually, I got inside. One person took the key to open the door, another ended up with my water, a third had the briefcase. No one offered to carry me but that was probably just because of the fact that all of us are actually too old to make such foolish gestures. I did actually appreciate the help—it is much easier to use a cane when I don’t have anything else to carry at the same time. Getting out was the reverse—all my duties and burdens were taken on by others. All I had to do was limp to the car and fall inside.

I hate being dependent on anyone or anything. But honestly, it was really great to have people so willing to help out and the cane made the trip from the car to the hall much easier. My pride can be a real problem at times.

May the peace of God be with you.

I’M NOT THAT BUSY

I was sitting in the doctor’s office to get the results of some tests. I had also decided to ask him about the fatigue that had been plaguing me recently. It might have been related to the tests that I was getting the results from but it could have been from something else. It was getting so bad that I felt tired all the time and needed to sit for only a couple of minutes before I was falling asleep. Given that one of my relaxing pastimes is sitting reading, the fatigue was seriously cutting into my reading. I enjoy a nap as much or more than the next guy but when I fall asleep three or four times when trying to read for an hour or so, that is getting a bit much.

So, the test results were sort of wishy-washy, suggesting that maybe I did or maybe I didn’t have a problem associated with the tests. But the results did suggest that the extreme fatigue likely came from other sources, which my doctor decided to check out through a set of other tests. But he also asked me about how busy I was.

That was an easy answer, of course. I am a part time pastor and I work 40% time at two different places. That means I work an 80% job, which isn’t all that bad and should be easily accomplished by a 66 year old reasonably healthy male. My doctor, who is also a friend and who therefore knows me as more than just a medical file reframed his question—he wasn’t asking how much I worked, he wanted to know how busy I actually was.

Well, I am 80% at official work. I also mentor a theology student. I do a bit of counselling. I spend some time writing. I occasionally do some “consulting” with other congregations and pastors—the quotation marks are because I think real consultants get paid and I don’t take money for the meetings I have. The more I listed stuff, the more the doctor nodded.

Just as he was beginning to suggest that I was actually quite busy, I realized that I might only work for pay 80% time but I actually am doing a lot—and the unpaid time and effort adds up—I am probably well over 100% if I were really honest and accurate. I think I had allowed myself to fall into the mindset that unpaid stuff was not really work and therefore shouldn’t actually count when it came to counting work/leisure hours.

I have long had this vision of myself as a sort of laid back, slightly lazy guy who gets things done but who manages to take it easy a good deal of the time. Well, that vision evaporated quickly under the harsh lights of my reality. I am actually quite busy, busier than I let myself realize. Most of what I do, I like and I do it because I think it is valuable and important.

But during that visit to the doctor, I realized that I am going to have to make some changes to deal with the realities I live with now. The doctor is making sure that there is no serious underlying medical issue—I gave up enough blood to the technicians to ensure everything is tested and checked.

But even without the results of those tests, it is clear that I need to make some adjustments in my life style. I need to make some different choices that take into account the reality that I am 66 not 26 and the energy I need to do all that I want to do isn’t as easy to come by as it was 40 years ago. I am making some adjustments to my sleep patterns. I am looking carefully at all the things I am doing, seeking to cut down the work load a bit—realizing that unpaid isn’t the same as not working helps out here. I want to get to the point where I can actually read for an hour or so without falling asleep. I want to be able to nap but I want the nap time to be my choice, not something that I have no control over.

I think the new sleep pattern is working and I am pretty sure there isn’t much going on beyond the fact that I need to relearn my limits.

May the peace of God be with you.

RETIREMENT AGE

Sometimes, when I need a break from whatever I am working on but don’t want to “waste” time, I log on to our denominational website. I don’t do that from some great desire to discover what my denomination is doing—I generally know what I need to know from other sources. I go to the website because one of the resources there is a page devoted to the changes in status of the clergy in our denomination. I know many of the clergy but because of geography, time and inertia, I don’t connect with many of them on a regular basis.

But by checking the website, I can discover who is doing what—it makes a great way to catch up with people I studied with, others I have met along the way, students I have taught and so on. These days when I check the site, I am struck by two things, both of which sort of point out something similar.

First, I read a lot of names of people I don’t know. There have always been some clergy I didn’t know but often, I would have at least heard the name from someone else. But these days, the number of names I don’t know seems to be in the majority. The few times I have tried to find out who they are, I have discovered that they are people who have come into ministry from another career or who are younger graduates. I don’t know them because I am not as involved in the denomination structures or educational process as I once was.

It takes a certain amount of energy to work as a pastor and another amount of energy to be involved in denominational activities and in the last few years, I have been choosing to conserve my energy by not having as much involvement outside the local churches I pastor.

The other thing I notice as I read through the changes page of the website is the number of people who are as the site describes it “retiring from active ministry”. Now, these people, I tend to know quite well. Some were pastors who were active when I started out. A few I studied with. Some I met during my stints on denominational committees and boards. A few were students I taught—second vocation, older students but students I taught. I read those lists, do some rudimentary math and realize that while some of those retiring are older than I am, I significant number are my age—and some are younger than me.

Both discoveries point in the same direction for me—I am getting old. I passed the official retirement age on my last birthday. Many of my friends in ministry are retired or have announced their retirement. In the churches I pastor, the majority of the congregations are retired—and not a few of them are younger than I am.

So, I ask myself, why am I still working? I am not working for financial reasons. Although ministry doesn’t pay a lot, my denomination has a good pension plan, especially for those of us who have been in it for 40+ years—compound interest over that period of time works wonders.

Nor am I still working because I am a Type A person who must always be at the centre of things and who will shrivel up and die without a job to use as my definition of self. I have tons of things I would prefer to be doing: more woodworking, gardening, travelling, reading, photography are all appealing but are somewhat on hold because of the demands of pastoral ministry.

So, I am old enough to retire. I can afford to retire. I have plans for a post retirement life. But I am still working and plan to be doing so for a while yet. Why? Well, the best I can say is that I believe that this is what God wants me to be doing here and now. I don’t think God’s kingdom will fall apart if I retire but I do believe that God still has something to accomplish through my efforts and so I am trying to be faithful.

I am pretty sure that I will be retiring someday but not today.

May the peace of God be with you.

SITTING DOWN

A long time ago (in this galaxy, not one far, far away), I was interviewed for the weekly paper published in the community where I grew up. We were getting ready to leave for work in Kenya and that was newsworthy back in those days when the story of the hour trip to the city was worth a free cup of coffee at the local gathering place. When I was reading the article later, I discovered that I was described as an active and avid outdoorsman—I suppose that today, that would be written as outdoorsperson.

And that was fairly true then. I liked walking, biking, and being in the woods. I could set up a campsite and have a fire going in less than a half an hour and have a camp meal ready shortly after that. Sitting around—well, I liked and like to read so I did that. And given that my work involved both study and people, I sat a lot inside at other times. But ultimately, I had to get outside, to walk around. Even puttering in the yard was an acceptable reason to get outside and move around. At several points in my ministry, I managed to combine ministry and being outdoors be being involved in camping ministry, including a several year stint as a wilderness camp counsellor and co-director.

Let’s move forward to today. I am currently sitting in the living room, a posture which will pretty much define my day. Today, every 2-3 hours, I will be heading to the basement to put another coat of varnish on my woodworking project. At some point, I will spend an hour or so on the exercise bike. I will be outside sometime today—maybe to get some groceries and definitely to go to the play this evening that a friend is directing.

But mostly, I will be in my chair, either writing something, catching up on email or reading news. We won’t mention the fact that there might be some YouTube videos along the way. I definitely won’t be walking all that far. If it were drier, I might be tempted to dig out the bike and go for a ride but today, well, the best and safest trail is still quite wet from all the rain we have had.

So, why do I spend so much time sitting? The answer is relatively simple. I am 65 and my arthritic knees set serious limits on what I can do. I can actually go for a walk—but going for a walk involves a complex set of decisions as I weigh the value of the walk against the consequences: serious pain that leads to limping and possible a sleepless night. To be completely honest, often the results of the calculation indicate that sitting in the chair is the best solution.

I do need to move some—I can’t sit all day. Sitting too much also causes complaints from my knees so most days, I struggle to find the balance between sitting and moving that results in the most manageable amount of pain. There is a solution—knee replacement and that is coming, although for a variety of what I think are valid reasons, I am putting that off for a while.

The aging process is interesting and frustrating for me. I have to learn and live with limits imposed by an aging body. Some limits have fixes and some don’t. All of them need to be realistically addressed. And all of them need to be emotionally addressed. It is sometimes depressing to realize that I likely won’t ever be a counsellor at a kids’ wilderness camp again. It is even more depressing to realize that I probably won’t even go wilderness camping myself. But that is reality and even though I have a good imagination and am somewhat creative, I have also learned that I need to keep a close connection with the realities of my life, including the realities that come with accumulating years.

There are good things about the aging process and I embrace them as well—if some business wants to give me a discount just because I have managed to live a certain number of years, I am going to take it. When the local seminary asks me to mentor a student because of my accumulated years of ministry, I am going to do it. I may have to sit down a lot more than I used to but I am going to be actively sitting.

May the peace of God be with you.

WORSHIP

For a variety of reasons, we took a week’s vacation recently. We didn’t have any great plans but were going away for a few days. However, the weather wiped out the plans—the road to the get away spot was under too much snow to actually get there without a long hike carrying food and all the rest for our few days. We compensated and made other arrangements based on several day trips.

But the vacation did mean that we had a free Sunday—neither of us had to preach or lead worship or do announcements or anything at all. The first decision we had to make was whether we would actually attend worship. I confess that I sometimes appreciate a Sunday without attending worship. But we decided that we would go somewhere.

That created a second, more difficult question—where would we go? There was no shortage of possibilities but one of the other of us managed to have a reason for not attending there. Some were rejected because one or the other of us had been pastor there. Some were rejected because one or the other of us had taught or mentored the pastor. Some were rejected for less than positive reasons—we thought we knew what to expect from the sermon.

Anyway, we finally made a decision and left for worship. We knew the pastor, knew some of the people in the congregation and I had even preached there a couple of times. The worship was something of a blend of contemporary and traditional. I had absolutely nothing to do with the design or conduct of the service. I was there to worship—something that is a rarity for me. In fact, there have been times when I have wondered if I actually know how to worship, given that most of my faith life I have been the leader of worship.

So, did I worship? I think so. I sang some of the songs during the opening music time. I followed along and read the appropriate places in the responsive reading. I followed the Scripture reading comparing my translation to the one being projected on the screen. I followed the sermon and didn’t do too much projecting of what my friend was going to say next and didn’t do any of the sermon evaluation that I have often had to do when listening to sermons.

I also lost focus a few times—the sanctuary clock was an old pendulum clock that probably came from their old building and I love clocks. One of the hymns started an interesting theological speculation that I followed for a bit. I may have missed a bit of the sermon here and there as I thought about something else. I squirmed a bit seeking to get my knees to stop telling me they weren’t happy. But overall, I worshipped. I was conscious of the presence of the other worshippers and of the Spirit of God. And, more importantly, I didn’t want to take over the service or spend a lot of time figuring out how to make the worship better. I was a participant and was quite happy to be a participant.

That may not sound like a very significant thing—but it actually is, at least for me. I have been leading worship and preaching for most of my life. Since I began as a pastor well over 40 years ago, there haven’t been many times when worship or some part of it weren’t my responsibility. I am also very analytical—I like looking at how things work and how they could work better. And that has been a significant part of my life as well as a teacher and mentor of ministry students. A part of me has always been somewhat concerned about how I would do in a context where I am no longer the one to design and lead worship and preach the sermon.

Based on this experience plus a few other such opportunities in the last few years, I think I just might be able to make the transition from leader to participant when it comes to worship. That is important because with my 65th birthday in the past, I will be retiring one of these days. It is nice to know that there is worship after ministry.

May the peace of God be with you.

LIGHT BULBS AND GETTING OLDER

All of the buildings where I lead worship were built in the days before electricity was an option for small congregations. The original lighting would have come from candles and oil lamps. Because the buildings were designed as houses of worship, they were built with high ceilings to give a sense of grandeur and awe—people in those days didn’t seem to worry about heating costs or efficiency.

Eventually, electricity was discovered and wires were strung and after some initial reluctance, the churches wired their buildings. The candles and hanging oil lamps were removed and replaced with electric bulbs, generally hanging down from the high ceiling. The installers made a couple of assumptions that plague our churches to this day.

Assumption one was that since light bulbs last almost forever, it wasn’t necessary to think about how to replace them. That assumption lead people to do away with the system in place for the hanging oil lamps—a rope and pulley system that allowed the lamps to be lowered for cleaning, refilling and lighting. Those new electric fixtures were hung from the ceiling on a chain or wire at the same height as the oil lamps—well beyond the reach of even a star NBA player.

The second assumption was that the church would always have a significant number of young, athletic and risk-taking members who would love to take on the challenge of replacing the burnt out light bulbs. Over the years, there have been some truly interesting and dangerous methods utilized to change the bulbs—but young people don’t care about the danger and it was part of their way of expressing their faith.

However, some things have changed in our churches. The light bulbs are still in high and inaccessible fixtures and still burn out. However, we no longer have the young, energetic spiritual athletes in our congregations. We tend to ignore the burnt out bulbs for as long as we can—and since most of our worship events happen during the day time, we can ignore them for years.

But in two of our buildings, the situation got so bad that we can’t really ignore it any longer. We have to change light bulbs. That reality has sparked more discussion and consternation than our budget shortfall. None of us is all that comfortable with heights—aging seems to heighten the awareness of the things that can happen when the human body makes an unexpected vertical drop of that height. Also, aging knees and ladders don’t always work all that well together.

So, the congregation struggles. There are those who demand that something be done about the lights. There are those who might have done it years ago who are happy to describe the process but whose increased maturity makes it clear to them how bad a solution it really was. And then there are people like me who figure that the light on my tablet is fine for most stuff and when I really need it, I have the flashlight app on my phone.

In the end, we will replace the bulbs. One building has already been taken care of—I helped design a relatively safe process that was too high for me but one of the other men was comfortable climbing. In another, well, we are pretty sure a son will take care of it on his next visit home—we can wait for that one. In the other buildings, at this point the bulbs are all still working so we are fine for a while. When we include the time we allow ourselves to ignore the burnt out bulbs, we probably have a couple of years or more in them.

This sounds like a silly and even frivolous problem, especially if you are reading this in the context of a church whose building has people to care for these things. But these are real problems that some of us have to deal with. Fortunately, small churches are adaptable, flexible and enduring. We will find a way to deal with whatever we have to deal with, whether it is burnt out bulbs, serious financial problems or difficulty finding a pastor willing to work part-time for low pay.

We may sit in the dark for longer than we should but eventually, we will take care of things as we continue to discover how God can still use us aging people in the work of his Kingdom.

May the peace of God be with you.

YUCKY WEATHER AND BAD KNEES

In my ongoing issue with depression, I have identified another factor in the process, or actually two factors that are sort of tied together. The first is the weather. I happen to like winter, even if, according to most of the members of the churches I serve, that makes me strange. But I enjoy snow and cold weather and snowstorms. A nice snow storm is really enjoyable, provided of course that the power doesn’t fail and no one is stranded on the road. I enjoy that weather sitting in our warm living room looking out the window—but I also enjoy it when I am out in it, shoveling the snow or cross-country skiing or trying to get the cars into the driveway.

So, part of the low grade depression I seem to be dealing with these days probably comes from the fact that so far, our winter has been a bust. We have had snow and cold weather and all the winter stuff—but just as soon as it comes and begins to look good, the weather changes and we get warm weather and rain. All the snow goes and everything is grey and depressing. A cloudy day with snow on the ground is always going to be brighter than a rainy, cloudy min-winter day—and given the strong connection between light and some depressions, the lack of snow has to have an effect. Of course, there are all those people in the churches who will tell me that the presence of snow depresses them.

So, the weather has some effect on my depression. It might to bad if I could get outside and do a few things. Part of my plan for today, for example, involves working on the cabinet I am building—but that may not happen because of the weather since I have to do the messy sawing and sanding outside. Unfortunately, neither the power tools nor the pine react well to getting wet.

At one time, I would have essentially ignored the weather, pulled on a rain suit over my warm clothes and gone for a nice long walk. But this is where the second factor kicks in. I can’t really do any serious walking. Even going down the basement stairs requires some planning as I mentally set up a list of things that I need or can do down there. Stairs present problems for my arthritic knees and the fewer trips I make, the better. And if a few stairs are a problem, a nice long walk becomes something of an impossibility, unless there is someone on call to pick me up when the knees decide they have had enough.

In short, I, like many people in my peer group, am dealing with the realities of aging. There are certain real and indisputable limits that develop just because of the fact that I have been around for 65+ years. The increasingly limiting aches and pains, the progressing wear and tear of various bits and pieces, the increasing fatigue all emphatically state that I can’t do what I used to be able to do.

This all comes together on a dark and rainy mid-winter day. There is no snow to add some bright edge to the day. The rain means I can’t pretend to be a carpenter and turn nice boards into sawdust. The arthritis means I can’t defy the rain and go for a walk. So, I sit in the living room, type a blog post and wonder what I am going to do for the rest of the day, or at least until the theology student I am mentoring shows up for his appointment this afternoon.

That can be depressing, at least for me. But I think I am on top of this particular bout of depression. I have options that don’t involve walking, woodworking or too many trips down the basement stairs and which aren’t as pointless as hours of Youtube. I have some new books that are quite interesting. I have that mentoring session. And above all, I have my faith, which is what always keeps the depression under control in the end.

I may be prone to depression. The weather and my increasing physical limits may encourage that depression. But in the end, I know that God is with me and he will help me as I deal with it all and the depression will not take over.

May the peace of God be with you.

I’M TIRED

One of the two pastorates I currently serve is the same one where I started my career as a pastor back on 1981 after a couple of years working in Kenya.  The other pastorate I serve was my wife’s first pastorate and we lived in their parsonage for a couple of years while we finished our Master’s degrees and before we went to Kenya.  That means I have a long history with both places.

That history has some significant benefits in my ministry.  But there is also another side to having that history.  I remember other stuff that creates some interesting thoughts for me.  For example, in one of our church buildings, the platform for the pulpit and the choir is about 16 inches above the floor.  There is a step but when I first began there over 35 years ago, I ignored the step–when worship began and I was following the choir up in our somewhat informal processional, I simple hopped up onto the platform–that step was an annoyance more than a help.

But when  I started ministry there again, I discovered that the platform was much higher than it used to be–either that or my bad knees are much worse that I want to admit.  My attempt to hop onto the platform never got beyond the preliminary thought stage before I realized that I needed that step–and a hand railing would be deeply appreciated as well.

In the other pastorate, I regularly drive by hay fields where I used to help my friend during haying season.  Tossing bales of hay on to the wagon was hard work and I knew I had done a day’s work when I was done but I did enjoy it.  I also got to drive the tractor now and then, which was a bonus.  But as I drive by those fields now, I realize that while I can probably still pick up a bale of hay, giving it the toss onto the wagon would probably cause my arthritic shoulders to loudly protest and my knees would begin to tell me that walking around the field after the tractor wasn’t their job.

But even more, I recognize that I am simply tired.  Not just physically tired but somehow spiritually tired.  I am not in danger of losing my faith–that is probably firmer and more rooted that it was way back then.  But I am finding it harder and harder to carry on the work I have been called to do.  I do things–but I don’t do them with the same energy level I used to have.  I have discovered that I need to space things out more–meetings need to be less frequent.  I need to remember that I have to have time and space to rest–a good Bible study with lots of discussion leaves me drained and wanting a nap.  When I finish two worship services on Sunday, I mostly want to collapse in front of the TV–and sometimes, it doesn’t matter what it on or even if it is on.

But for all that, I also realize that I bring something else to this stage of ministry.  It may be because I don’t have the energy I used to have or because I have managed to gain some wisdom over the years or because God has gracefully helped me but I look at my ministry differently.  I have different priorities.  I know that I can’t do everything I used to do, let alone everything that could be done so I have learned to think about what I do or should do or could do more strategically.  I need to invest my time and limited energy and creatively in ways that will do the most good for the church, which means that I think and pray more about stuff than I used to do–and I feel less guilty about what doesn’t get done.

I could retire and I know that I will retire at some point.  But even with the fatigue, I am not ready for that yet.  I believe that God has called me to these churches for a reason and I experience evidence of his Spirit working in and through and around me.  I may be tired but I am not done yet.

May the peace of God be with you.