Worship

The worship experience is trying.
It is quite a struggle to be a participant after having been a leader; difficult to read a text without examining it; distracting, to hear the Word proclaimed while having my mind craft its own sermon; but mostly, depressing, as I am constantly reminded of what I used to do.
And that reminds me of what I have done to put me in this position.
It is impossible to turn it all off and just 'worship.'

I purposefully arrive a few minutes after worship begins, and when it is over I quickly exit any side door I can find. I do not want anyone to look at me...to see the shame, embarrassment and sadness in my face.
The music is the only thing reaching me right now. The confession is darkness, the creed empty, the prayers unfocused.
But there is the Word and the way it still touches me. And the sacrament...my only tangible way to hang on to the Christ who comforts me.
While Sunday is always the worst day of the week...because I am so brutally reminded of it all...it is still the Christ who comforts me...
Who draws me to himself...in His house of worship.

Disappointed

I am somewhat disappointed over the lack of collegial contact I have received.
The vocational call to the ministry of Word and Sacrament is like no other. It is not just a job but a call from God. Not a job but a ministry. Not a job but a journey into the lives of God's people. And the list goes on. We are called to be a teacher, administrator, counselor, spiritual guide, encourager, and comforter in times of trial. We are all things to all people.
And that makes our vocation so unique that only those who are in this role can fully understand it.
One might think that should make for an even greater collegial bond. I hate to use the term 'club' but in some sense that's what it is, and a very exclusive one at that (set-apart).
It would seem quite natural therefore, that when the clergy are in need, who would know better than the clergy, how to best meet those needs? And when the clergy are in trouble...who should be coming to their aid?
Since my sin and exile however, I have heard from only a few. And those were friends before I became ordained. The silence from all these pastors is deafening.
This is certainly a unique way to do pastoral care.
The ministry of avoidance.
I suppose I really can't blame them. I am an embarrassment to them and the Church. A disappointment to the 'club.'
And if they were to call what would they say?
To be fair, I should say that if I called on any of them for help they would not close the door on me.
And yet...are they not closing the door with their silence?
I have received calls, letters, messages through others, e-mails, and text messages in abundance from friends and the lay people of the churches I served. Loving, encouraging, forgiving messages of hope.

But not a peep out of the clergy.

To begin with...

I have debated this blog for some time. Can it possibly be efficacious for anyone, or will it only offer me a form of therapy?

I am not starting this for pity. But as I have searched the web, I have not found something written from my perspective...that of a sinner...the offender.

Consider this: Everyday we watch, listen, or read the news and are informed of this or that crime, this or that offence. When it is something we consider quite egregious, our thoughts and feelings naturally go out to the victims. We imagine how horrible it must be for them and we offer prayers for those who suffer.

But how often do we consider the offender? I think our natural (albeit unconscious) inclinations are to "write off" the offender. She or he has committed the crime/offence and now they must suffer the consequences.

But do we ever think the offender might also be suffering as well? While we might sympathize with the intense grief suffered by the victim, do we ever extend that same sympathy to the offender?

I know I seldom if ever thought of the offender.

I do now.

And I know now that even the sinner can feel intense grieving over their guilt.
And feel immense loneliness as their shame prevents them from going out in public.

This is the type of grief that gives new meaning to sackcloth and ashes.

I wonder if this notion of 'writing off' the sinner is the reason why prison ministry is avoided like the plague. We don't understand 'them' or their crime and so we can neither appreciate their repentance nor the possibility of their suffering.

And yet...are we not all sinners? Do we not all know of our own failures?

Or do we take the pill of forgetfulness...that pill being the sin of others.