because, we all deserve a little silliness...
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
set apart
I have come to the realization that my vocation is a very lonely place. As friendly as I may be with my parishoners, as much as I may love them, as many experiences as we may share, I will always be "the pastor." I will always be the one who is scrutinized. I will always be the one who gets to receive the hot end of anger when there is no one else give it to.
For the last two years I have had a partner in my ministry. His job was to lead our Hispanic ministry. We had a wonderful relationship, both professionally and personally. The ministry was hugely successful. We had 40 people worshiping in their native Spanish language; we had 25 people in small groups during the week. Momentum was growing; leaders were emerging. The work was good. Last Sunday he and his wife came into my office and resigned with no notice. "After today we will not be back. God is calling us away from the [insert mainline label here] Church."
I was supposed to be off last week. I got a few hours away with my family screaming it out at King's Island on Monday. That was it. I am glad that I got to spend that time with my family, especially my children, before they went back to school on Thursday. I'm realizing that family is what I have on this road; family, friends who don't know me as "Pastor Daniel," and God. Other than that, I am alone. I've heard other pastor friends express the loneliness of this life, but until recently I didn't really understand why.
That may seem incredibly harsh to some, but it's the truth. When you are "set-apart" there are things you just have to do. I had to lead my congregation in lamentation this morning and I had to try to answer questions I had no answer to. I haven't even finished my own grieving, I haven't even had my own questions answered, but today was not for me. Today was for the 140 people who gathered seeking answers to questions, seeking balm for wounded spirits. For some the experience was healthy and gladly received. For others, not so much.
What I did not know was that, for one small group in the church, the rumor mill had already kicked into gear and a "counter-narrative" had already set in among those members. As I stood there trying to help my congregation grieve I had a target on me that I didn't even know about. Some members have been told that I violated confidence, that I knew beforehand that my partner in ministry and his wife were trying to discern God's will and that I outed him to his, and my, supervisory peers--causing the connection to remove him from his leadership role. There is nothing farther from the truth. But for those who had bought into the narrative, I was nothing but a liar.
I spent all week trying to craft something that would help people grieve and heal...and when it was all over I felt beaten up, I felt untrusted, but more than anything I felt alone.
As I sift through the rubble of this event, I feel so very alone. I'm tired of dumping on my wife and kids, but they still listen. I'm tired of dumping on my colleagues, but they still listen, too. I look to the heavens and ask God, "Why this? Why now?" but the only answer is silence in return.
.
I keep hearing this song in my head. A song that says, "I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known...I walk alone, I walk alone" But there's this song that we sang in worship this morning (one of the old, old hymns from our early service) that keeps rolling in my heart to counter the one looping in my head. This one says, "Have thine own way, Lord! Have thine own way! Wounded and weary, help me I pray! Power, all power, surely is thine! Touch me and heal me, Savior divine!"
For the last two years I have had a partner in my ministry. His job was to lead our Hispanic ministry. We had a wonderful relationship, both professionally and personally. The ministry was hugely successful. We had 40 people worshiping in their native Spanish language; we had 25 people in small groups during the week. Momentum was growing; leaders were emerging. The work was good. Last Sunday he and his wife came into my office and resigned with no notice. "After today we will not be back. God is calling us away from the [insert mainline label here] Church."
I was supposed to be off last week. I got a few hours away with my family screaming it out at King's Island on Monday. That was it. I am glad that I got to spend that time with my family, especially my children, before they went back to school on Thursday. I'm realizing that family is what I have on this road; family, friends who don't know me as "Pastor Daniel," and God. Other than that, I am alone. I've heard other pastor friends express the loneliness of this life, but until recently I didn't really understand why.
That may seem incredibly harsh to some, but it's the truth. When you are "set-apart" there are things you just have to do. I had to lead my congregation in lamentation this morning and I had to try to answer questions I had no answer to. I haven't even finished my own grieving, I haven't even had my own questions answered, but today was not for me. Today was for the 140 people who gathered seeking answers to questions, seeking balm for wounded spirits. For some the experience was healthy and gladly received. For others, not so much.
What I did not know was that, for one small group in the church, the rumor mill had already kicked into gear and a "counter-narrative" had already set in among those members. As I stood there trying to help my congregation grieve I had a target on me that I didn't even know about. Some members have been told that I violated confidence, that I knew beforehand that my partner in ministry and his wife were trying to discern God's will and that I outed him to his, and my, supervisory peers--causing the connection to remove him from his leadership role. There is nothing farther from the truth. But for those who had bought into the narrative, I was nothing but a liar.
I spent all week trying to craft something that would help people grieve and heal...and when it was all over I felt beaten up, I felt untrusted, but more than anything I felt alone.
As I sift through the rubble of this event, I feel so very alone. I'm tired of dumping on my wife and kids, but they still listen. I'm tired of dumping on my colleagues, but they still listen, too. I look to the heavens and ask God, "Why this? Why now?" but the only answer is silence in return.
.
I keep hearing this song in my head. A song that says, "I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known...I walk alone, I walk alone" But there's this song that we sang in worship this morning (one of the old, old hymns from our early service) that keeps rolling in my heart to counter the one looping in my head. This one says, "Have thine own way, Lord! Have thine own way! Wounded and weary, help me I pray! Power, all power, surely is thine! Touch me and heal me, Savior divine!"
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