On the Pastoral Life and the Need for Rest

I was deeply touched by Steve Blow’s column today in the Dallas Morning News.  He speaks compassionately of the successes and pressures of Skip Ryan, former senior pastor at Park Cities Presbyterian Church, his abrupt resignation in 2006, his challenging path into and away from prescription drug abuse, and his restoration to the pulpit.

So few really understand how very human pastors are, that our temptations are the same as anyone else’s, and that our opportunities for periodic refreshment and times of healing and regaining balance are generally fewer.  And almost all is done with critical eyes upon us.

I think this is why Blow’s column touched me so.  It was infused with grace and understanding, and awareness of the holy second chances that the gospel gives us.

Last fall, aware of my growing exhaustion, increasing health concerns, lack of family time, and need to have to time to write with more concentration, my church voted to give me a three month Sabbatical, starting May 1 of this spring.  I chose that time because generally those three months are the least busy of the year, although I will still miss very important days in the life of the church.

I had understood, until this week, that the church was solidly behind this need to get away and are preparing to even more fully be the church in my absence.  It is to be good both for me and for the people who are called to be the Krum First United Methodist Church.

I have served here for six years now.  I have never come close to taking all my vacation or study days away.  The only year I even approached it was the year my mother died–and that was the year I had done eleven funerals for beloved church members as well.   I spent three weeks out of the pulpit, caring for my mother in her home and offering her a loving, holy death.  My retired-clergy husband picked up the slack at no expense to the church.  A few months later, I took a two week study leave to plan upcoming sermon series and work on a book and arranged for wonderful pulpit supply in my absence.  There was no vacation that year.

In all my six years here, unless I was actually out of town, I have never had two days off in a row. There have been extended periods without a single day off–sometimes lasting as long as six weeks.

No one wants that for me,  but each person with a need for pastoral care or presence is not asking “Did she get her days off?”  Instead, they are asking, and rightly so, “Can you come?”  And no matter what else takes place during a week, Sunday messages must be researched and prepared, worship planned, articles written, Conference responsibilities fulfilled, and administrative matters dealt with properly and in a timely manner.

I’m not complaining.  I am called to this.  I do have the grace of a flexible schedule, and that helps a great deal.  I do not have young children at home needing attention and also have an exceedingly supportive husband.

Nonetheless, I am very much worn out and my health is suffering.

However, I understand now that some people are questioning my sabbatical plans, concerned that I will not be working hard enough during that time and taking too much of it just to rest and be with my family.  My family: three delightful grown sons, three spectacular daughters-in-law, four and 3/4 grandchildren, all living far, far from here and whom I see once a year, if I’m lucky.

Remember: no three day weekends for clergy, no relaxing extended breaks  like Christmas and Easter because we work all those normal family holidays.  I possess insufficient funds, not to mention time,  to take quick two or three day trips across the country during the week, when they couldn’t see me anyway. Trips to England, where one son lives with his family, can’t be done quickly anyway.

The concerned ones are probably few.  Their voices and concerns need to be heard by holy and loving ears.  But I admit I am stunned and frustrated right now.

I’ll get past it.  In the meantime, Steve Blow’s column was a balm to my tired soul.  He gets it.

The Way We Pray . . .

Going to begin a Lenten Bible study centered on prayer today.  Thought this was a good way to start:

The Small Stuff

I saw this intriguing article over the weekend.  The writer speaks of a charter school in Chicago where the students must pay a fine for violating even the smallest rules.  Here’s how the atmosphere at the school is described:

A sense of order and decorum prevails at Noble Street College Prep as students move quickly through a hallway adorned with banners from dozens of colleges. Everyone wears a school polo shirt neatly tucked into khaki trousers. There’s plenty of chatter but no jostling, no cellphones and no dawdling.

This is an urban school–and urban schools in Chicago have nearly daily fights breaking out among the students.  There is only about one fight per year on each campus that is a part of this charter school system.

I think they are on to something profound.  While we talk about not sweating the small stuff, sometimes paying attention to the small stuff is literally life-changing. These schools fine students for having untied shoelaces or chewing gum, for unbuttoned shirts and for carrying cellphones.

Certainly such an atmosphere can become deadening–but, done properly, it is also liberating.  The school is fining students for tiny actions that show disrespect for themselves and for others, and so pushes behavior that is respectful.  It is paying off in terms at both educational atmosphere and educational achievement.

Now, link this to our spiritual lives.  What if, during Lent, we paid special attention to the small things that either show respect–or disrespect–to the Holy One and to the world created by the Holy One.  Things like care in language use, time set aside for worship and daily prayer, offering gracious responses when less gracious moments come our way.

The little things really do matter.

More Thoughts on Forgiveness

After I wrote what I posted yesterday, I saw this comic strip:

Sometimes, a picture really does say it all. Life is too short to hold a grudge.  Or, as the scriptures put it, if you don’t forgive others, God won’t forgive you (Matt. 6:15).  The Practice of Forgiveness will be the first of the four essential Christian disciplines we will address during Lent this year.  See you on Sunday!

The Unnatural Act of Forgiveness

A fight breaks out between two preschoolers. The parents or caregivers break up the fight and insist that the children tell each other they are sorry. On the rarest of occasions is there a sincere “I really am sorry I did that. I was wrong. Please forgive me.” Usually, for the children involved it is just an exercise in saying the right words to keep from getting into even more trouble. Inside, the little ones are screaming “It wasn’t MY fault!!!!!”

Those insincere apologies grow in sophistication as we grow older, but they still do little for bringing about real reconnection when a relationship has soured. Here are just a few of the worst apologies I’ve heard (and have offered myself) over the years

• “I’m sorry you misunderstood me. I apologize.”
• “Did I do something I need to apologize for? If so, please tell me.”
• “I’m sorry your feelings are hurt.”
• “Please forgive me in advance for what I’m about to say (or do).”
• “I’m sorry I lost my temper/broke the ____ (you fill in the blank)/hit you. But if you had only listened to me in the first place, it never would have happened.”

After the apology, the wronged one is faced with either offering unsatisfactory, forced forgiveness or having it said about him or her, “Well, I said I was sorry but he/she wouldn’t forgive me!”

Frankly, it is a wonder that any hurts are ever healed.

The painful truth: the act of offering forgiveness is the act of doing the unthinkable. It means releasing another person forever—without strings—from our right to take vengeance of any form. So we not only step away from our ability to bring punishment or retribution, but also from talking about the offense uninvited or using the offense as a justification for our own future decisions.

Real forgiveness comes from the soul without waiting until the offender offers an appropriate apology, simply because most apologies are like the ones above. They actually tend to put the blame on the person who has been wronged and exacerbate the hurt.

Real forgiveness does not mean to forget. “Forgive AND forget” calls for a near-impossibility when we have been badly hurt or lied to or betrayed.

Real forgiveness does mean that each time the offense comes to mind, we intentionally and fully set it down.

Real forgiveness does not mean that there are no consequences to actions chosen by the wrongdoer. When a loved one has been killed by a drunken driver, or someone has mugged you and stolen your belongings, or abducted one of your children, the larger society must step in with proper assessment of the perpetrator’s crime and take appropriate disciplinary actions, sometimes including incarceration.

Real forgiveness does not necessarily mean complete reconciliation or restoration of a highly vulnerable trust relationship. Even the most sincere apology coupled with the greatest willingness to forgive does not instantly negate behavioral patterns that continue to cause harm. Sometimes people must separate from one another.

Real forgiveness does not whitewash the wrongness of the act or the evil that may be present in the one who has brought the hurt. Forgiveness itself cannot be authentic and life-changing when truth remains hidden about the fullness and the consequences of the wrongful actions.

Real forgiveness is an unnatural act. Why? Because we are most like the Holy One when we do this. Everything in us fights against offering such unearned grace, yet when we ourselves receive that same unearned grace, we are set free.

Real forgiveness changes us and the world around us.

This is the Good News so often spoken of. This is how we pass it on.

We are indeed called to this unnatural and almost impossible act. Learning the practice of forgiveness is the first step to peace that passes all understanding.

Wow–we are in a lot of pain

According to a recent MedPage article,  “Prescriptions for narcotic painkillers soared so much over the last decade that by 2010 enough were being dispensed to medicate every adult in the U.S. around-the-clock for a month.”

All I can say is, “Wow.”  How very much we hurt–and I think the hurt and pains people are seeking relief from are far, far more than physical.  Recently, I had a back spasm that just about put me under.  After suffering for over a week, I finally saw a medical professional who prescribed a muscle relaxer and a stronger paid med that I would normally ever take.

I took one of each that night, and knew I would not take them again.  Yes, they lessoned the pain considerably.  They also lessoned my ability to think and feel in any way I call “normal” considerably.

I chose to think and feel with normality and to live with the pain and discomfort as the spasm slowly worked its way out and left residual tenderness and hypersensitivty that may be there for a long time to come.

But I also understood, as I felt myself getting more and more numbed and disconnected mentally and emotionally, why people turn to these.  For just a little while, the difficulties of living in the down and dirty world most of us face on a moment-by-moment basis disappeared.  Time lost meaning, thoughts of outside affairs and lists of undone tasks faded into oblivion.

Yes, I understand why we demand to escape.  And the pharmaceutical world is providing more and more means to do so. But surely, there is a better way to deal with our mental and emotional pain than this route.

Ministry With the Poor

Today, Dr. Frederick Schmidt posted on his blog here about doing ministry with the poor, on of the four areas of focus of the United Methodist Church mandated by the 2008 General Conference (just a meandering thought:  will all those change with the 2012 General Conference–just when I’m starting to figure this out?).

Anyway, I thought Schmidt made a particularly insightful comment when he wrote, “I have no way of “knowing” in the sense that really matters. No one who works on a computer, went to college, pursued graduate work, and writes online knows a thing about what it means to be poor.”

I’d like to add to that, “Anyone who has decent health insurance also doesn’t know a thing about being poor.”

In the last year, I’ve hit, for the first time in my life, several what I am calling “health hiccups.”  Thanks to my handy-dandy insurance card, which my church pays dearly for, I’m able to make the rounds of physicians and expensive tests, bearing a relatively small (but still painful!)l percentage of the cost by my deductibles and co-pays.  If I didn’t have insurance, there is no way I would be getting any health care, and certainly not the quality that has been available to me.

This, perhaps more than anything else, is the great divide today between the “haves” and the “have nots.”  Access to a basic human need: basic, skilled, compassionate aid when something goes wrong with our quite fallible human bodies.

I do have days when I wonder if the health care system in the United States is broken beyond repair.

Gary Trudeau Hit the Nail on the Head

Saw this today in the morning paper and thought, “Exactly!”  When everything we do is superb, or wins a medal or trophy, why bother with striving toward excellence, achievement, hard work or discipline?

Precisely the Problem

More Thoughts on the Scandal

An insightful friend, who is not a United Methodist,  wrote me today about the situation at St. Luke and Tyrone Gordon.  She asks, after doing as much reading about the situation as she could,

Very interesting that the pastor gave up his credentials and then the church pretty much said that ended it for them.  Did that mean they stopped investigating the alleged incidents because the man was no longer a ordained minister of the church?  I didn’t get that.  Don’t they want to know if it happened on their watch?  And then don’t they owe it to those he pastored during those alleged incidents to either confirm or refute the allegations?  Or would doing so put the church in danger of more law suits? (emphasis mine)

Finally if true, what will become of those in power who are said to have known about the acts and done nothing or covered them up?

Yes, these are the questions.  Why is there no further action here?  However, I know the authorities have faithfully followed the letter of the law.  Wonder what Jesus might say to that?

A Modern Day Parable

Jesus had just experienced a really busy day.  He’d healed some guy who had been unable to speak, freeing that dear person from being chained to silence by evil.  When the newly freed one began to speak, the crowds turned on Jesus, accusing him of being the Evil One himself!

Jesus explained to them that the very kingdom of God had come into their presence and invited people to be with him, to gather others as well.  He reminded them that God brings signs of grace through the strangest people, like the cowardly Jonah and even a very rich queen.

He insisted people examine themselves so they would really know if they were walking in the light or not. Sometimes what people think is light is really darkness.

While he was wrapping up his speech, a really, really important person in the religious community asked Jesus to dinner.  Jesus happily came, but then was immediately criticized for not following the exact letter of the law in The Book of Religious Institution Rules before sitting down to eat.

Jesus let him have it.  He said, “You follow all the requirements of The Book of  Religious Institution Rules. You make sure you stay inside all the lines so no one can come after you. Yes, you look perfect from the outside. That Book protects you completely.

But inside is a different story.  Yes, you toe the legal line, but forget that you are called to sacrificial love and to make a stand for justice, even if it costs you. You love to have the primary seat at meetings, and have everyone address you by your exalted title, but inside you are dead.”

More people stood up—particularly the lawyers.  “Jesus,” they said.  “You just insulted us.  How dare you!  Don’t you understand how important we are?”

Jesus responded, “Yep, I know that you do all you can to make life difficult for the people below you in your earthly ranking systems, and you do nothing to make it easier for them.  You give them rules about what they can say and cannot say, and then threaten them with expulsion and impoverishment when they even think about crossing them.  You are so busy killing the truth-tellers, those unlikely prophets God sends, that you may as well carry the cost of murdering all those who have come before me, seeking to bring the place of grace, holiness, redemption and justice.  Anyone trying to come in, you kept out.”

A bunch of very angry, very powerful people who ran the local religious establishment started meeting in smoke-filled back rooms after that night, determined to take Jesus down.

Note:  a more original version of this story can be found in the Gospel of Luke, Chapter 11.