A Dreaded Joy

What happens when there is nothing to fill the perceived void? No welcoming blue light from my device promising a fleeting reprieve. No Saturday college football to give me false victory or false defeat. No tub of BlueBell ice cream to soothe some inner discomfort. No “Likes” on my latest post to affirm my worth and to let me know someone sees me. No ____ (you fill in the blank…). This is my great fear as I step into unprecedented space.

The challenge of this adventure will be very real. Physically, I have never tried to walk this far in one outing before. Psychologically, I have never been solo while backpacking. Practically, I have never not been exactly sure when I would complete my journey. Can I do it? We will see!

What other’s fears for me are not my fears.

• What if you get lost? I’ve never been lost. Misplaced, yes. Lost, never. Additionally, the modern safety nets of GPS and 911 are readily available.
• What about bears? They are disinterested in me as much as I am amazed by them. A little wise camp keeping and they are not a problem. (For the record, to appease some who are deeply concerned about this possibility, I am carrying some pepper spray. I am much more likely to use it on two-legged creatures than any four-legged ones.)
• What if it rains? I will get wet. Thankfully God made me waterproof! And there is good quality weather gear readily available.
• What will you eat? Oatmeal, rice, power bars, peanut butter, jerky, dried fruit, even a little Spam for some salt and fat.
• What if you break something? Always a possibility, but that is also a possibility at home. Take care and pay attention where you step, a lot like at home.
• Won’t you get cold? Maybe, but I can get warm. A good uphill walk, a bright fire, a good meal, a warm sleeping bag are all good solutions to being cold.
• Aren’t you afraid of the dark? Not anymore. I’ve learned that when it is dark the stars are the brightest, and I love seeing the stars in all their glory. Oh sure, there will be something that goes “bump” in the night somewhere along the way but it will most likely bump right along without bothering me.

Far and away that which I fear most is not what I may encounter out there, rather it is what I carry within. With no space to escape I must flatly and frankly deal with myself and with God. And I know what that means. It is why I so often avoid such moments. You see, I know the darkness I carry.

Wilderness is where you go to meet God. It’s true! As you read your Bible, every time you see someone in the wilderness you can bet they are about to have a God-sized, life-altering encounter with the Creator. I have a growing suspicion this is why so many avoid much time out of doors. Sure mosquitoes, snakes, and spiders are good excuses to avoid those spaces, but I suspect they are scapegoats for deeper concerns of what might happen if we truly got quiet for a bit. What if God did speak to us?!?

Wilderness is where you go to meet God … As you read your Bible, every time you see someone in the wilderness you can bet they are about to have a God-sized, life-altering encounter with the Creator.

This scares me and thrills me all at once. What if I do, in fact, encounter Him? What if, like Moses, He calls on me to do something I know is beyond me? Or, what if, like Elijah, He asks me what I’m doing way out here? Or worse, what if, like Jeremiah, He says “You think you’re weary while running with men, what will you do, Jeremiah, when you have to run with the horses?” Or, what if He finds me and says, “Come to me, weary and burdened one, and I will give you rest for your soul.“; could I believe it to be true?

“Every day God invites us on the same kind of adventure. It’s not a trip where He sends us a rigid itinerary, He simply invites us. God asks what it is He’s made us to love, what it is that captures our attention, what feeds that deep indescribable need of our souls to experience the richness of the world He made. And then, leaning over us, He whispers, “Let’s go do that together.”

Bob Goff

So, the backpack is loaded, the map has been checked yet again, the walking staff stands ready, and the weather looks amazing. By the time you read this my feet will be taking me north along the Bartram Trail. Who knows what stories await me?

I may even share some of them with you upon my return.

The Best Decision I Ever Made

Looking back I can see it clearly, even more clearly than I saw it at the time. Not going to work alongside him would have seemed like a missed opportunity of outsized proportions to anyone looking in from the outside. The pastor was well known, well respected, and evidently not going anywhere anytime soon. This was a large legacy church carrying far reaching influence with resources most ministries only dream of when lotto winners get their hearts and pocket books right with the Lord.  What more could one hope for in a ministry opportunity?

But my mouth went dry and my heart skipped a beat when he said, “This church needs a mayor, not a pastor.” I hope I did not physically recoil at his statement, but every alarm bell and red flag in my spirit went off simultaneously. I tried to give the statement some margin; maybe I just heard it wrong because my primary spiritual gifting is that of a pastor, a shepherd, and shepherds don’t use mayor language about those they serve. Surely he was using hyperbole to point out the complex nature of the organization he was tasked with guiding. Sadly, that margin was erased by his explanations which gave evidence that he was serious. Dead serious.

Fast forward a decade and a half and I sit across from this same man, whom I intensely respect, talking about finishing well. As the conversation meanders for 2+ hours there is a lingering cloud that doesn’t exactly darken the conversation, rather its dappled shadow gives the conversation an unmistakeable color and texture: he has regrets, there is lingering angst or bitterness, and woven through all the accomplishments the thread of dissatisfaction seems to string it all together. It was all well covered, capped, and curated. There was no chance that our conversation would devolve into some cathartic reckoning. He said, “My leg of the relay race has been run. I cannot change how I ran it.”

I have been talking with pastors from across our state this week who have served long and well in one place.

• One enters his thirtieth year serving his church when the calendar turns again and another is nearing a decade since he retired from his place of service covering 25+ years.
• Some spoke to 1000s on any given Sunday while one of them is blessed to see 75.
• One is now in a second career with an institution of higher learning and another drives a school bus in the afternoons to help the church pay his health insurance.

You get the idea. This is a broad sample of faithful men who have all enjoyed notable successes. Some names you would immediately recognize and others not at all. But they all share this in common, they are where I hope to be in 10 years. I want to know what that looks like and how I can best navigate the known and unknown challenges of this chapter of ministry.

The experience has been a fascinating look behind the curtain at these men’s lives and personalities. Their leadership styles and gifting were on vivid display, whether they wanted them to be or not. One conversation was interrupted more times than I could count as individuals stopped to catch my friend up on the latest with a mother’s cancer treatment or how the son was doing at linebacker. This man had an easy way about him that welcomed these interruptions as a matter of course; he was this community’s pastor. Another invited me to his office which was a study in control and power. Everything was precisely placed and told a story, right down to the seating arrangement. Yet, this was juxtaposed in dizzying contrast with his disarming gentleness and genuine interest.

One would think such a wide range of experiences, personalities, and ministry settings would produce an equally wide range of observations about long-track ministry, instead there was remarkable continuity.

• Take all of your vacation.
• Learn to measure differently. Buildings, budgets, and butts-in-seats (typical church growth metrics) don’t matter nearly as much as we think they do. 3 of the 5 men expressed some regret over not learning this lesson earlier. (More on this in a moment…)
• Keep reading. Keep learning. I have numerous book recommendations and was even handed a couple to read. One guy even asked what I thought about pursuing a PhD. After much laughter, I explained that watching Josh Watford’s journey had disabused me of any notion of that pursuit.
• Transitions take time. Be intentional, but be patient. Do your homework.
• Long-tenure comes with the gift of hard earned trust. This trust is a two way street; they trust you and you trust them. This is a beautiful and powerful gift. Steward this gift well.
• Some people are not supposed to like you.

There is much more grist for the mill which I am still grinding. Hearing the wisdom gained from over 150 years of combined ministry experience has given me much to consider. There have been moments of deep affirmation that I am managing to do some things right and some moments of stinging challenge as I recognize areas of needed attention. Among the greatest gifts has been the offer of future conversations. It is astonishing to realize I have some of the best and most successful leaders on speed dial.

But I keep circling back to learning to measure differently. One man said, “A few years ago I could tell you exactly how many we had in worship and Sunday School and I could tell you to the penny how much we had in the offering last Sunday. I can probably still tell you those things but now I would rather tell you about the 4 year-old girl who runs to give me a hug each Sunday, or the 90 year-old grandmother whose hand I held as I told her about her grandson’s overdose death and we just sat and cried together for 30 minutes. Those are the measures that really matter.”

So how do I measure at Siloam? When asked by colleagues in ministry I rarely speak about numbers, instead I talk about watching Michael Williams rise from the waters of baptism and go hug his mother. Or, I might tell the story of the day I got Frances Bamberg’s goat. It might be the kingdom stories we get to be part of in far flung places. There’s the beautiful determination to worship displayed in Mrs. Jeanette Sturgis’ life, the exuberant joy of the Zumwalt boys, and the glory stories of growth and healing that began with a simple invitation. These are the measures that remind me of God’s good work among us. These are the measures that sustain me as a pastor.

Sadly, I don’t think my friend from the beginning of this post ever truly learned to measure this way. My heart breaks for him.

Remember The Rest

Three times in Psalm 46 the often overlooked little word found throughout the Psalms, “Selah,” is found. Psalm 46 is already brief, only 11 verses, but it is interrupted, arrested in mid-stride, halted three different times to call us to rest. This seeming contradiction is intensified by the dramatic, bold declarations of “God is a refuge and strength, a very present help in time of trouble” (vs. 1). This psalm has the earth giving way and mountains being cast into the seas! To pause in such a moment seems out of place. Yet, there lies the instruction three different times: wait here: pause: linger.

All of this stirred a long forgotten memory for me and I was transported 40 years into the past to the choir room at Holt High School in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. There I sat with 50 or so other students trying to figure out “Aint A That Good News,” a beautiful and rapid fire negro spiritual, full of movement and vigor. But it closes with a rest before the final, triumphant “Good News!” and we were struggling to get it right. Some were holding on too long, others were coming in too quickly. It was just a mess. But into that mess our director, Benny Russel, spoke truths that taught us something about music theory and life.

He put down his director’s baton and sat down on his stool for a moment until every eye and ear was tuned to him, and then, after an additional pause, he spoke. He told us about the rest sign there at the end of that piece of music and asked if we knew what it meant. He was not angry, frustrated or out of sorts, he was simply helping us to engage with an important moment. After affirmations were given from across the room that we could identify a rest sign in a piece of music he began helping us connect the dots between the theory of a rest sign and the practice of a rest sign.

The rest sign is a unique moment in the life of a musician. It is a moment when they do nothing. Their skills and performance are put on hold, set aside, and shuttled to the back of the line. Such a moment, Mr. Russell explained, can make or break a piece of music. He asked how many were familiar with “The Hallelujah Chorus” and a smattering of hands went up. He reminded us of that magnificent moment at the end where there is this astonishing and unexpected pause, but in order for it to have the intended impact, the musician must disappear. One dare not sing or play through a rest sign or the power of the piece, the memory of the melody, the anticipation of the resolution will be forever lost.

Benny knew he was teaching us more than music theory that day, and now, some 40 years later, I am still learning the lesson.

“Be still and know…” Selah

Some Gleanings from Green Pastures

Here are some of my grazings from Andrew Murray’s “Waiting on God,” along with some gems from a few other sources. You will also find some thoughts I have been chewing on during this first week of sabbatical. Thanks for sharing this journey.

From “Waiting on God” by Andrew Murray

• “All that the Church and its members need for the manifestation of the mighty power of God in the world is the return to our true place, the place that belongs to us, both in creation and redemption, the place of absolute and unceasing dependence upon God.”
• “If our waiting begins by quieting the activities of nature and being still before God; if it bows and seeks to see God in His universal and almighty operation, alone able and always ready to work all good, then it will be the strength of the soul.”
• “We may rest assured that He who made us for Himself, that He might give Himself to us and in us, that He will never disappoint us. In waiting on Him, we will find rest and joy and strength, and the supply of every need.”
• “There may be much praying with very little waiting on God. In praying we are often occupied with ourselves, with our own needs, and our own efforts in the presentation of them (our prayers). In waiting upon God, the first thought is of the God upon whom we wait. We enter His presence, and feel we need just to be quiet, so that He, as God, can overshadow us with Himself.”
• “As simple as it is to walk all day in the light of the sun, so simple and delightful can it become to a soul, practiced in waiting on God, to walk all day in the enjoyment of God’s light and leading.”
• “Let this be the message to all God’s tired and weary ones, that there are more people praying for them than they know about.”
• “A soul cannot seek close fellowship with God, or attain the abiding consciousness of waiting on Ghim all the day, without a very honest and entire surrender to all His will.”
• “You are going to wait on God, to know first what He is, and then after that, what He will do.”

Here are some other gems I uncovered this week. I keep turning them over in my mind and finding fresh gleams of light from them.

• “Joy is where the whole being is pointed in one direction and it is something by its nature a man never hoards but always wants to share….Joy is a mystery because it can happen anywhere, anytime, even under the most unpromising circumstances, even in the midst of suffering. Even nailed to a tree.” – Fredrick Buechner
• “Strangely, mysteriously, things of beauty and usefulness sometimes come from wounds.” – Catherine Claire Larson, “As We Forgive”
• “When Jesus, nailed to a Roman cross, prayed, “Father, forgive them,” He wielded a weapon against which Caesar himself had no power…Who can stand up to the force of forgiveness?” – Elisabeth Elliot (emphasis added)

And here are a few observations from this first week of sabbatical.

• Slipping into the balcony a little late (on purpose) last Sunday was beautiful and overwhelming. Tears flowed as we sang, “Lord, let your love fall on us…” and realizing that for the first time in a very long time I was there to participate in worship without the weight of performance or proclamation.
• Reorienting my life from a posture of “What must I do?” to a posture of “What must I become?” is critical. Perhaps it is when who we are shapes and informs what we do that we find ourselves on a path to wholeness.
• “Do” leads to “Done”. “Be” leads to “Become”. One is temporary and ever demanding (there is always something more to “do”), the other is full of grace and eternity.
• I believe, but do not readily trust, my true position as a child of God. I depend far too much on myself and far too little on Him. (Oooof, that is hard to see in print.)
• If one begins at the wrong starting line they are running the wrong race. They may run well, they may gain applause, they may out pace others, and may achieve some checkpoint with distinction, but if it is the wrong race the effort, the applause, the achievement are nothing but dust and ashes.
• There is great appetite for spectacular or esoteric matters pertaining to God’s work among us and little appreciation of the countless daily graces at work in our lives. This is heartbreaking as it is clearly evident from God’s word that in His economy it is the small and unnoticed things which truly count large.

Finding my way

Five days is all it took. I knew it would come as sure as next month’s power bill. Not much had really been set aside anyway. A conversation at the mechanic shop, a hello from strangers while I pick up dinner, an admirer of the truck who wants to talk awhile, all leading to conversations requiring the pastor’s presence. But these are small and welcomed matters; affirmations of a ministry of simply being known and present. What loomed so large today was the question I knew would come, and it did.

As she headed to work Vanessa said, “So, how much do you want to know?”

There was an inward shudder.

I replied, “I trust your judgment about what I should know.”

She paused for a moment to weigh the matters and then shared a few things that have happened. She also shared how others were stepping in to meet the needs and then she waited. Her unspoken expectation, and thus her hesitation in sharing, was that I would effortlessly slip right back into full pastoral mode. The internal tug of war was intense, if brief. The need to honor this time of sabbatical won the day.

I am stumbling toward rest, I just haven’t quite found it yet. My back and shoulders are slowly releasing accumulated tension. I had become so accustomed to it that I didn’t realize it was there until it began subsiding. I still wake to roll calls of “to-do” lists of church matters and have to regularly recall my mind as it wanders into sermon preparation.

I begin far too many of my days with “What should I do today?” rather than “What should I become today?” The difference is literally eternal. This noisesome world demands that we “do” while our Heavenly Father invites to come to Him and find rest for our souls. If only we believed it were true…

The encounters “in the wild” with church members has been entertaining and precious. I have been shunned (with a smirk on their face as they “refused” to talk to me), hugged by one who does not ordinarily hug me, and wildly greeted with “It’s the pastor! Hey Pastor John!” as I drove by the Zumwalt boys. I look forward to seeing more of you around town in the coming days and, just as a reminder, I am still John and I am still your pastor.

The box of cards I was given is a treasure. I have laughed. I have wept. I have prayed earnestly for each of you and given thanks for you. I look forward to reading one or two each morning and being reminded again of the high honor you give me as your pastor.

Thank you again for the gift of this time. I am finding my way.