What I Need

I decided not to go to church today.
Not because I wanted to be lazy or I wanted to avoid the pain. Although I must admit, when I reflect on my absence from church it got me to thinking.
From a leader's perspective, when someone missed worship I didn't give it much thought. I know that people have busy lives and that whether they were on a weekend getaway or just resting from a long week everyone is entitled to take the weekend off. In short, I never stood over people and asked where they were last week.
But I never considered that people (strangers) might find it emotionally difficult to come to church. We as leaders know of those individuals in our congregations who are going through trials in their lives. And we understand when they do not attend as regularly as they used to. We might even try to go to their home to minister to them.
But what about the people whose difficult life circumstance is unknown to us?
I have always thought that on any given weekend someone (and maybe more than one) is desperate to hear the Gospel...that is, "Good News" of hope. And so I always tried to craft my sermons in such a way as to give not only a tangible way to live for God but also to proclaim God's love for each of us.
I hardly ever conducted a strict, serious, super pious, worship experience; opting instead for a light, friendly and fun time with community and God.
I hope I did that well.
My reasons at the time were to make worship a positive, fun, energizing experience. I wanted to make 'church' a place you would WANT to get up, get dressed, and come to on a Sunday morning.
Does that seem stupid?
If I was a leader now....I would know how important this type of worship experience would be to those who might be suffering, for those who are looking for a special type of comfort.
Because it is what I long for.

Today we are always hearing about this or that ministry trying new things to spark growth or reach the 'unchurched' (for lack of a better phrase). Every gimmick under the sun is tried, from doing a coffee house to worshiping in non-traditional church locations.
All that stuff, is just that. Stuff.
I don't need that.
I'm hurting. What I need is a community that loves me unconditionally. A place where people are happy that they are there and happy that I came as well.
What I need is to laugh. Because I gotta tell ya...I don't find a whole lot to laugh about these days.
What I need, is to hear the Gospel. I need to hear hope, forgiveness and love, poured out on me by God.
I already know the law...because I broke it. I don't need anyone telling me the rules. Because I am being punished by them.
And I don't need a coffee shop, or a different building, or a podcast, or whatever else is the latest and greatest to attract me. Ultimately, how could all that 'stuff' possibly make me feel comfortable or take away my pain?

As a worship leader, this is a perspective I never considered.

A Chance

I wonder if sitting in my car with the engine running, locked in the garage, if that might end my pain.
It seems no one quite understands.
How this hurts.
If I could just do that right....just go to sleep.
A romantic notion.
My luck, I would wake up coughing and not be able to go through with it.
As I pondered this 'easy escape,' I had another romantic thought, that of meeting my Lord. And he said to me, "You never gave me the chance to set things right again....Why didn't you wait on me."

Ironic. Isn't it?

I cry out in my thoughts prayers and dreams that I might be given a chance to set things right with the Church, family, friends, the community and ultimately, God.
And yet, I dream of Christ crying out to me, "Why didn't you give ME the chance."

A Grim Reality

I was looking at Mark Driscoll's blog the other day. He has a 11 part series called "Death By Ministry" in which he speaks on the many pitfalls of pastoral ministry. In part two he appears in a video where a rather striking statement is made about theological education not translating to the secular workforce.
A fictitious scenario is offered about former ministers attempting to get a job stating their qualifications as: [I] "...can parse Greek verbs and I totally understand justification by faith..." The prospective employer responds by showing where the mop is located.
I wonder if Mark knows how brutally truthful his statement is. I say this after having just mopped the floor.
Don't get me wrong; it's not that I'm against menial labor. I have done far worse things on the mission field. But there I was glad to do it, no matter how filthy or difficult it was.
Now that type of labor is just a reminder: - of all my hard work and sacrifice.....coming to nothing.
- of God's gifts for the ministry of Word and Sacrament, sitting in a mop bucket.

A grim reality of my failure.

I can't watch TV.
So much of it makes me think about my sin.
Scan the channels and what do you find: promiscuous relationships, suggestive language, situational contexts, sexual situations of all types.....
"Adult Content"
That what we call it. And yet it is so incredibly pervasive that it would be impossible for our children not to see it. Impossible for me not to see it.
I never noticed that before.
But now that I have this 'new' perspective, I see how things really are, and how it is not easy to avoid.
Advertisers use sex to sell things no matter what it is. Since when does deodorant cause women to attack men?
(Which reminds me of the old "Hi Karate" ads)
Is it just humor?
Every sitcom has someone doing something they shouldn't.
And now our society is not satisfied with 'pretending.' We now have the same sexual situations in 'reality-TV.'
No more dating...lets just line up a bunch of women and watch them fight over one man. That's entertainment!
Was it that I never noticed...or did I just become numb to it. Or was I slowly being effected by it?
I did not watch a great deal of TV in the past. There was no time for it.
But now I am so paralyzed that I can't do much of anything. I have too much time on my hands - as the song goes.
So I blindly turn on the TV. And my sadness increases.
Yesterday I thought I could avoid it all by watching a documentary of the Amazon Rain Forest.

I was to find that it was really about the mating habits of the creatures of the rain forest.
There is no escape.

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.