So you know its bad when your three year old is sitting at the dining room table with her dinner in front of her, waiting for the rest of the family to join her, saying over and over again to herself "thanks be to God...thanks be to God."
She apparently has a certain affinity for this phrase lately because I've overheard her saying it several times today. I asked her once "do you need help getting down from the stool", to which she replied "yes". Then I helped her and she said, "*sigh*, thanks be to God."
Not really sure what this is about, but I find it pretty funny. I suppose there are worse things she could learn from us and our vocation.
Showing posts with label Ministry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ministry. Show all posts
Monday, September 28, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
"Anything Worth Doing...
...is worth working for." - My Mama
I can't tell you how many times I heard this phrase growing up. When things would get tough, I could always count on my mom to faithfully recite it to me, reminding me that, "if it were easy, anyone could do it" (another one of her phrases).
And I believe these things are true. Not that some "easy" tasks aren't necessary, and therefore should be undertaken with devotion and commitment, but more that things that are difficult shouldn't be cast aside just because they take a little work.
But one facet of this phrase that we never really explored growing up is, is everything that is difficult really worth doing? What about things that consume us, take up an immense amount of time and energy, but - in the end - really aren't that important? And as I grow older and older, and time seems to be more and more in short supply, these are the questions I find myself pondering more and more.
For example, right now, as part of my pastoral appointment, I (ahem) get to preach every Sunday. And I will confess that this post is being written as part of my sermon preparation procrastination ritual. There are times...most every Sunday, to be honest, that I feel that my task is an awesome one (in the literal sense of the word). That, to be able to approach the Scriptures during the week on behalf of the congregation, pray for a word of good news, and deliver it artfully is a task that should not be taken lightly and a task that I am proud and honored to call mine.
But, the path to get there is not always an easy one. In fact, its sometime a burdening one. There's always a sermon to be preparing. Its like laundry or dishes...the task is never finished. As one of my professors jokes, "Sunday comes with amazing regularity". And, often times, during my sermon preparation, I wonder if its really worth it all. I know that the words that come out of my mouth on Sunday mornings are meaningful to at least a few in my congregation...the tell me so. But do they make a difference? In their private lives, in the life of the community...does what I do really matter? Is it really worth doing?
I think this is probably a question that I will revisit time and time again throughout my ministry. Maybe even weekly or daily. And while it causes me some angst, its probably a good question to ask, lest we get in a rut of doing things just because we've always done them.
But, in my case, I'll never be able to fully answer that question. The work of God comes slowly...imperceptibly at times. I have to trust that its being done, even when I can't see it or feel it. But there are little glimpses of hope along the way, like road reflectors that assure you you're still on the right path in the middle of the dark night. And, for right now, I can hang my hat on two things:
(1) I know that ministry is happening through the fact that I take the time to faithfully prepare my sermons. My congregations appreciates the preparation. Its not something they've always had, and it shows them I care about them and our church.
(2) The preparation feeds and forms me. I don't always feel it, but one of the biggest reasons that I got into the ministry is because its awesome to be paid to spend your days caring about people and reading and thinking and writing. If nothing else, I know that the time I put into grappling with the text shapes and molds me.
So, for now, that has to be enough. My work ethic and sense of commitment lead me to work hard at my ministerial tasks, and my prayer is that I will be continue to be wise enough to be able to see that they are worth doing.
And, now, back to getting this sermon on paper...
I can't tell you how many times I heard this phrase growing up. When things would get tough, I could always count on my mom to faithfully recite it to me, reminding me that, "if it were easy, anyone could do it" (another one of her phrases).
And I believe these things are true. Not that some "easy" tasks aren't necessary, and therefore should be undertaken with devotion and commitment, but more that things that are difficult shouldn't be cast aside just because they take a little work.
But one facet of this phrase that we never really explored growing up is, is everything that is difficult really worth doing? What about things that consume us, take up an immense amount of time and energy, but - in the end - really aren't that important? And as I grow older and older, and time seems to be more and more in short supply, these are the questions I find myself pondering more and more.
For example, right now, as part of my pastoral appointment, I (ahem) get to preach every Sunday. And I will confess that this post is being written as part of my sermon preparation procrastination ritual. There are times...most every Sunday, to be honest, that I feel that my task is an awesome one (in the literal sense of the word). That, to be able to approach the Scriptures during the week on behalf of the congregation, pray for a word of good news, and deliver it artfully is a task that should not be taken lightly and a task that I am proud and honored to call mine.
But, the path to get there is not always an easy one. In fact, its sometime a burdening one. There's always a sermon to be preparing. Its like laundry or dishes...the task is never finished. As one of my professors jokes, "Sunday comes with amazing regularity". And, often times, during my sermon preparation, I wonder if its really worth it all. I know that the words that come out of my mouth on Sunday mornings are meaningful to at least a few in my congregation...the tell me so. But do they make a difference? In their private lives, in the life of the community...does what I do really matter? Is it really worth doing?
I think this is probably a question that I will revisit time and time again throughout my ministry. Maybe even weekly or daily. And while it causes me some angst, its probably a good question to ask, lest we get in a rut of doing things just because we've always done them.
But, in my case, I'll never be able to fully answer that question. The work of God comes slowly...imperceptibly at times. I have to trust that its being done, even when I can't see it or feel it. But there are little glimpses of hope along the way, like road reflectors that assure you you're still on the right path in the middle of the dark night. And, for right now, I can hang my hat on two things:
(1) I know that ministry is happening through the fact that I take the time to faithfully prepare my sermons. My congregations appreciates the preparation. Its not something they've always had, and it shows them I care about them and our church.
(2) The preparation feeds and forms me. I don't always feel it, but one of the biggest reasons that I got into the ministry is because its awesome to be paid to spend your days caring about people and reading and thinking and writing. If nothing else, I know that the time I put into grappling with the text shapes and molds me.
So, for now, that has to be enough. My work ethic and sense of commitment lead me to work hard at my ministerial tasks, and my prayer is that I will be continue to be wise enough to be able to see that they are worth doing.
And, now, back to getting this sermon on paper...
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Birthing Pains
I'm currently in my last year of seminary, preparing to be a United Methodist minister. Up until a couple of weeks ago, I was finishing up an internship with one of the most wonderful churches I've ever encountered. The people were loving, the worship was awesome, and the ministry was genuine. I had plans to go on staff there at the conclusion of my internship. Life was good.
But, only a few weeks before my internship was over, I found out that, with the current economy, the church couldn't afford me. They tried everything they could think of to make it work, but the numbers just wouldn't add up. Suddenly, I found myself orphaned, not knowing where I would go next, but being very sure that that season in my life was over.
I remember the pastor preaching a sermon shortly thereafter that was one of those times when you're sure the preacher is speaking directly to you. One line of the sermon was, "don't get so comfortable in one place that you start to believe you can't find God anywhere else." Whew. That did it. At that moment I knew - deep in my being - that I was done there. Like a little eagle being thrown from the nest and forced to fly, my time that this church was over. It was time for something new.
Its so hard when life moves on before you're ready.
Fortunately, the leadership in my denomination found me another church. Its a beautiful, small, country church, where I will be the solo pastor. I've never been a solo pastor, and they've never had a female pastor. Neither one of us really knows what we're getting into. I start in just a week and a half, and I'm flooded with a myriad of emotions. I'm excited and overwhelmed and scared and unsure and grateful all at the same time. I have no idea what to expect, and at times, that leaves me almost paralyzed.
I find hope and rest, however, remembering that this is not the first time I've felt this way. Just four short months ago, I awaited the birth of my second child. I remember sitting around, big and pregnant, feeling like I knew what to expect even less than I did the first time. And I was excited and overwhelmed and scared and unsure and grateful all at the same time. I had no idea what to expect, and at times, that left me almost paralyzed.
I so badly wanted to meet my new baby, but I just as badly didn't want to end the special relationship my husband and I had with our - then - only daughter, Elizabeth. What the three of us had was good - perfect, you might even say. And since I had no clue what a family of four would look like, it was really hard to be excited about giving up the known for the unknown.
But, regardless of my readiness, time kept ticking. Before I knew it, I was sitting in bed one night timing contractions in tears. Not because they hurt so much as because my heart hurt. I ached to meet my new baby, but I wasn't ready to not be pregnant any more. I wasn't ready to say good-bye to the blissfulness of having an only child. It became profoundly clear to me that in order to experience the birth of a new baby, I first had to experience the death and grief of a pregnancy ending. And ready or not, the baby was coming.
And now...well, I know that, in many ways, all those fears were ridiculous. Charlotte is amazing and brings so much joy and life to our home. I love her with a fierce, profound love, and she has only brought good to our lives. Yes, the old season had to end, but the new season is magnificent and breathtaking.
So here I am again. Its clear that a new thing is being born, and I have no idea what it will look like. There is a part of me that wants to run scared back to what is comfortable. But, alas, that's impossible. The contractions have begun. They bring with them many aches, to be sure. But it is time to get ready. In a few short days, the old will be gone, and a new relationship and season in life will be birthed.
And all I can do is seek rest and peace knowing deep in my soul that, in every death, there is rebirth and new life - life greater than we can comprehend.
Every time.
But, only a few weeks before my internship was over, I found out that, with the current economy, the church couldn't afford me. They tried everything they could think of to make it work, but the numbers just wouldn't add up. Suddenly, I found myself orphaned, not knowing where I would go next, but being very sure that that season in my life was over.
I remember the pastor preaching a sermon shortly thereafter that was one of those times when you're sure the preacher is speaking directly to you. One line of the sermon was, "don't get so comfortable in one place that you start to believe you can't find God anywhere else." Whew. That did it. At that moment I knew - deep in my being - that I was done there. Like a little eagle being thrown from the nest and forced to fly, my time that this church was over. It was time for something new.
Its so hard when life moves on before you're ready.
Fortunately, the leadership in my denomination found me another church. Its a beautiful, small, country church, where I will be the solo pastor. I've never been a solo pastor, and they've never had a female pastor. Neither one of us really knows what we're getting into. I start in just a week and a half, and I'm flooded with a myriad of emotions. I'm excited and overwhelmed and scared and unsure and grateful all at the same time. I have no idea what to expect, and at times, that leaves me almost paralyzed.
I find hope and rest, however, remembering that this is not the first time I've felt this way. Just four short months ago, I awaited the birth of my second child. I remember sitting around, big and pregnant, feeling like I knew what to expect even less than I did the first time. And I was excited and overwhelmed and scared and unsure and grateful all at the same time. I had no idea what to expect, and at times, that left me almost paralyzed.
I so badly wanted to meet my new baby, but I just as badly didn't want to end the special relationship my husband and I had with our - then - only daughter, Elizabeth. What the three of us had was good - perfect, you might even say. And since I had no clue what a family of four would look like, it was really hard to be excited about giving up the known for the unknown.
But, regardless of my readiness, time kept ticking. Before I knew it, I was sitting in bed one night timing contractions in tears. Not because they hurt so much as because my heart hurt. I ached to meet my new baby, but I wasn't ready to not be pregnant any more. I wasn't ready to say good-bye to the blissfulness of having an only child. It became profoundly clear to me that in order to experience the birth of a new baby, I first had to experience the death and grief of a pregnancy ending. And ready or not, the baby was coming.
And now...well, I know that, in many ways, all those fears were ridiculous. Charlotte is amazing and brings so much joy and life to our home. I love her with a fierce, profound love, and she has only brought good to our lives. Yes, the old season had to end, but the new season is magnificent and breathtaking.
So here I am again. Its clear that a new thing is being born, and I have no idea what it will look like. There is a part of me that wants to run scared back to what is comfortable. But, alas, that's impossible. The contractions have begun. They bring with them many aches, to be sure. But it is time to get ready. In a few short days, the old will be gone, and a new relationship and season in life will be birthed.
And all I can do is seek rest and peace knowing deep in my soul that, in every death, there is rebirth and new life - life greater than we can comprehend.
Every time.
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