Expectation #2
Ministry
is often lonely. By nature, I'm an
introvert, so I actually don't require tons of interaction with people. This, in itself, is sometimes
misunderstood. I love people. I just need some time alone to recharge on a
fairly regular basis. This does not mean
that I love being alone all, or even most, of the time.
I
thrive in social situations when I have a defined role, and particularly a
defined leadership role. Because of
this, I tend to gravitate toward people who need help. I'm adamant about the connections we should
be making with those whom Jesus defines as the least of these. All of this is a part of who I am, and it's
good. But there's something else.
Over
the years, I've grown quite fond of Wesley's image of discipleship and
spiritual formation as a process of climbing a stairway with one hand reaching
forward and one hand reaching back. I
think many ministers do the reaching back well, but my concern is that so many
of us are walking up the stairs backward, altogether, attempting to drag the
whole world behind us with both hands.
With this posture, the potential for falling down the stairs is
enormous!
The
relationship of spiritual direction is vital.
For me, this was a very difficult step to take. When I enrolled at NNU, it was a requirement
that I find a spiritual director. The
fear involved in this process was almost palpable, because I knew that entering
into this kind of relationship would leave me vulnerable and transparent. I wasn't sure this was what I wanted, but I did want to be at NNU, so I had to do
it. Interestingly enough, NNU also
provided me with a cohort of people with whom to journey in my educational
pursuits, and many of them became friends.
I thought I went to NNU to get a degree, but I got a lot more than I
bargained for.
It
would be nice to leave the story at that, but I think there are some real challenges for pastors once
they move beyond required
relationships. Unfortunately, for many,
these relationships only last so long.
This has left me wondering how I can encourage people to continue with
one on one spiritual direction and regular communication with a cohort of
colleagues when that kind of engagement is no longer obligatory to reach some
other goal.
Part
of the problem is that you have to want it.
I would not have sought a spiritual director if I had not been required
to do so. I'm not exactly sure what that
says about me. Perhaps it says that I
thought I had it all together, or I thought I had arrived, or I thought it was
easier to listen to God alone than with someone else. Maybe it says that I knew I did not have it all together, and I had
certainly not arrived, and it was
easier to not listen to God at all
than to get honest with another human being who might not be as trustworthy as
I'd hoped. Pastors get burned by people,
sometimes, and so we often choose to go solo as opposed to engaging in
community. Oh, we build community for other people. We serve as the spiritual directors and the
mentors and the resident theologians.
And we should. But we definitely
have needs, too.
Another
part of the problem, though, is actually finding people who are willing and
able to fill the roles of spiritual director and friends in your life. When I started praying about who I should ask
to be my spiritual director, only one name came to mind. I was on the verge of asking her, which had
taken me quite some time, courage gathering and all, when her husband was
diagnosed with terminal cancer. Honestly,
I was blown away with grief for this family, and I didn't feel as if I could
ask her to take on one more thing, namely my mess of a life, so I waited and
prayed some more and was reaching near panic attack level as the start of the
school year came and went, and I still did not have a name to submit as my
spiritual director.
Finally,
because I was out of time, and I tend to work best under pressure, at the
eleventh hour, I sent an e-mail asking if she would be willing to fulfill this
role as my spiritual director. Part of
her response to me read, as follows:
"I did read over the requirements
and said to myself, 'This doesn’t sound like me.' I feel like there must be many, many people
who meet the criteria better than I... Perhaps you see something that I don’t;
it seems like you think I could do it. I have never done anything like
this before. And then I wondered, 'Why did God put this opportunity in front
of me?' Perhaps He wants me to do it. So, if you think I would meet
the criteria well enough, I will try my best. And if you have doubts, I
won’t be a bit upset if you ask someone else."
Well,
that was enough for me. The fact that
she was willing was all I really needed, and there was absolutely no way I was
going to put myself through the process of looking for someone else if I didn't
absolutely have to.
This
was the beginning of a beautiful relationship in which my spiritual director
and I are able to commune and listen to God together. It has been amazing, not only how she has
helped me in the process of spiritual formation, but also how she has helped me
in everyday, ordinary life. She was
exactly who I needed.
Perhaps
not ironically, the relationship has been good for her, as well. I think God has used my leaning toward
compassion and listening to also help her through a very difficult time in
life, through grief and healing connected to the loss of her husband. It seems that God does, indeed, direct us to
the people we need and the people who need us.
In
regard to other friendships, it can be a complicated process. I remember being told, before we entered into
ministry, that you shouldn't really make friends within your congregation, and
you absolutely should never, ever stay connected to the people from previous
ministry assignments. I found this
advice, at first, to be appalling. Then
we went through some painful transitions, and the whole concept of friendship
started to seem like a revolving door. I
am ashamed to admit that I started to buy into the lie that forming transparent
relationships with the people to whom you minister is taboo. It was easier to not care that much. It was definitely easier to walk away without
thinking about how life had gone on without us.
But the things that are easiest are so often not synonymous with the
things that are right.
Enter
social networking. We live in a
different world than we did, even a decade ago.
Now, people whose names you could hardly remember when you lived across
the street might very well be privy to such private information as what you had
for breakfast or when you plan to next have your tires rotated. I think the word "friend" has taken
on a life of its own. As an example, at
this very moment I have just over 800 friends on Facebook. They live all over the country, and some of
them even in other world areas. A good
number of them haven't been very nice to me in real-life situations. A few of them, I have never met face to
face.
I
really like social networking, because it has helped me to re-connect with a
lot of people who would otherwise be relationship casualties of ministries in
the minister and move on mode. I like
that I have been able to re-connect with childhood friends. I like that every time I meet someone and
have an even moderately meaningful conversation with them, I can add them to my
list of friends and keep track of them, get glimpses into their lives, pray for
them when they have needs. It's an
amazing tool. It does, however, lack
physical contact.
After
a whirlwind of five states in six years, our family landed in the mid-west,
which was a plus for us, since that's where Phil and I both grew up, and
managed to stay put for just as long as we'd been traveling. Gradually, we started remembering what is was
like to have regular contact with the same people, week after week, month after
month, year after year. I had become
very guarded, because it was simply painful to start to make friends only to
have them ripped out of my life, but as we settled in to a new way of living,
with new rhythms and a stable location, my guard began to drop. I didn't go looking for friends, but they
started to show up sort of unexpectedly, working their way into my life, simply
because we had something in common.
Several of them became the kinds of friends that I could depend on to
pray for me and to respond with grace and love, even when the things I needed
to share were a jumble of raw emotion.
It was a very blessed time in my life in regard to friendship.
Unfortunately,
even if you stay in one place for a really long time, it is likely that you
will move again someday. As a general
rule, that's just the way vocational ministry goes. So, when we packed up after six years of life
with the same people, it was actually a much harder goodbye than some of the
others. It's not that we lost all of our
friends, but we had to adjust to a different way of doing friendship with
them. They no longer eat in our living
room once a week. It might seem like a
little thing, but I knew what they liked.
I mean, like clockwork, I could tell you which people were going to show
up, and bring more friends, on
breakfast night. I knew who wanted
crushed red peppers in their cheesy eggs and who didn't, and I always made both
kinds. I knew no one was ever coming
again if I attempted pumpkin pancakes a second time. But when we left that town, I had to start
over again with people I didn't know.
The truth is, it takes a long time to make friends, and it hurts when
you have to leave them.
You
also have to be aware that every time you find yourself in a new situation,
many of the people there are naturally going to have been friends for their
entire lives. It's OK. You can still be friends with them, but your
relationships are going to be different.
You don't have a history together.
They do.
I've
often heard it said that God places people in our lives, and places us in the
lives of people, for specific times and
situations. I don't really know how true
that is, but I do know that it's best if you love the people you're with, all
the time, regardless of how long you get with each one. There are times when I honestly wish that our
life had been more geographically stable, but if that were the case, I would
have missed out on a lot of people.
Sometimes you have to say goodbye in order to say hello.
L.
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