Preface:
I made a post last week
[post war] that generated more response than I expected. [Hey any response is more than I expect.] It was a brief description of the random thoughts swirling in this small mind of mine.
First of all, on my best of days, I’m full of it. I admit that. I love the sound of my own voice. I admit that too. I have “windbag” down to art status sometimes and I can irritate the snot out of my precious husband any day of the week. That said I have found this blogging medium to be quite the bag balm for my wrestling spirit. It is helping me sort. It is helping me grow. I do this at the risk of being misunderstood, disagreed with, and judged. It is not my intent to hurt anyone or prohibit healing. If anything, I’m doing my best to understand and heal. I realize more now than ever, the rantings and wanderings of someone who paid a high price for placing his inmost fears and conflicts out there for the world to view. Still I write. Please feel free to read no further, won’t hurt my feelings a bit. But if you do read on, read with the understanding that if our sins visit the generations that follow, we must own and learn from our mistakes. And if we care deeply about the health of the body of Christ and that of her leadership, regardless of what opinions have formed about what “happened”, some serious soul searching and reflection needs to take place if we the Church are going to move forward with spiritual health and depth. Especially if in the moving forward we are to arrive “there” without sacrificing anyone in the process.
If you need to pee, this would be a good time to do so…
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*Meet Timothy. He’s the one in the arms of the couple standing in the front row, three couples from the left. His older sister’s the one facing this way sticking her tongue out at the pastor’s wife. They’ll laugh about this one-day but I’m betting it won’t be funny when her mother first finds out about it during the dedication dinner following the service. I always tear up during this part. Listen. They’re promising to raise these precious sons and daughters in the love of the Lord. They’re promising to teach them His words of life. They’re promising to be the kind of parents that God calls them to be. And in a few minutes they’re going to ask us to stand and promise to help them. They’re going to ask us to promise to pray for them, to protect and support them and to set godly examples for them as they grow. I wish I didn’t get so emotional at these things-they aren’t even mine~
*You remember Timothy, or Timmy, as he prefers to be called. He’s that adorable little boy with the golden hair and mischievous blue eyes sitting there by the second grade Sunday school teacher. She keeps him close. She says it’s because he’s a handful-I think it’s because he’s so cute...and smart. She says he keeps her on her toes and then some. Always asking some of the craziest things for someone his age. I can hear her telling them about John the Baptist, or trying to, little Timmy keeps laughing about the locusts~
*What is it about Junior High boys? That class is on their third straight teacher. I understand that during the dress rehearsal for the Christmas program last week a couple of live wires poured hot wax the color of holly berries all over the altar and were “bright” enough to write their names with it. Tim. Right there in big red letters. I actually laughed about it after I got home…but I didn’t have to clean it up the night before the big concert. I’m guessing those young men will be more comfortable standing for a while~
*Where does the time go? It seems like yesterday these “kids” were toddling around the nursery and now they’re in my D-group. This is Tim’s senior year. He’s been really quiet this week. I’ve been praying for him and whatever it is he’s wrestling with. I know the congregation back home is praying too. We gave them a list of all the teens we were taking to the conference. Tim’s a good kid really. I’ve always liked him, even if he can be a handful at times. [His behavior on the bus ride here and that of his illustrious cohorts had better not be repeated on the way home…] That said, whenever he shares something, when he manages to be serious for a minute and isn’t messing around with his friends in the back, it’s usually something worth hearing and oddly blesses me in some way. I hope our speaker this evening can work on his heart more than I’ve been able to do the last couple days. I’m convinced God has something pretty special in mind for his life. I’ve always somehow known that~
*I’m running late again. I wanted to be there in time for the graduate recognition part of the service. They’re giving special recognition to three of our seniors who committed their lives to Christian service the last night at summer conference. And yes, Tim was one of them~
*I haven’t met our newest intern but everyone seems to be pretty impressed. Already talk of hiring him after graduation in May. Depends a bit I guess on the next couple months. It’s been a while since I’ve heard from Tim. His mom told me he’s doing really well, top of his class and already thinking of seminary. He’s also doing an internship at a church I have honestly never heard of and has been welcomed by their growing congregation. I thought it was great news, but oddly her eyes held such sadness. It was nice hear Tim was doing so well. I haven’t been able to keep in touch with him as much as I’d like, but I still think of him often and pray for him faithfully~
*I received a letter today from Tim. My eyes are still moist from the reading. Tim is leaving the ministry. He had once thought about becoming a writer, or a lawyer and thought he might go back to school somewhere down south until he can figure some things out. He wanted to say goodbye. He was sorry he had lost touch with me, and he wanted me to know how much I had meant to him over the years. He was sorry if he was disappointing me and only hinted that things hadn’t worked out quite the way he planned. He asked me to pray for him, that this dark night of the soul he was experiencing had caught him off guard and left him lonely and worn. I weep.
*****
In the last couple of years God has allowed me to see a side of His church that I was not prepared for, that of paid ministry. I had my heart broken somewhere in the midst of this revelation. I’m a romantic, it’s true, but I believe the Bride of Christ looks her best in lace. Lace woven with strands of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. I expected to adopt a more substantial garment, be it leather or the “full armor of God” when headed into the “world” but not so much at “home” among the Body of Christ. [Let me confess to failing to perfectly apply His fruit of the Spirit to my life as well] I find it terribly disappointing that to serve in ministry we have to “toughen up” or develop “thicker skin”.
To be honest, what really crushed me wasn’t so much that people aren’t perfect [hello, I knew that going in], but that the people I had trusted most to have the basics nailed by now, people specifically in leadership who commit to protect His precious flock, [including those called to serve it] didn’t, from my perspective and experience, follow their own lead. I saw with my eyes and heard with my ears, from a staff perspective, enough to know that we are capable of literally destroying people. We hold in our hands the potential to cause someone to doubt their calling, to doubt their worth and to doubt their dreams. Callings, worth, and dreams given them by our Creator that I believe we will be held accountable for messing with. That scares the crap out of me. Being eaten by lions, floggings, crucifixions were unimaginably horrible punishments, but they were punishments meted out against believers by non-believers. How sad is it that on a daily basis the spirits of our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ are eaten alive, beaten to death and hung out to dry by Christians? By Way-following disciples? Sadder yet, that it doesn’t make us angry or moved enough to get out of our “don’t you dare wake me from my picture perfect, nothing wrong around here dream life I’m living” and do something? Sadly, the few who did have been designated troublemakers or groupies with kool-aid in hand.
This has created a strange tension for me, one that I have been unable to reconcile. I love these men. I believe them to be men of God. I believe them to be committed to serving Him and seeking His will. I believe we were and are on the same side. I am however disheartened and disillusioned by what I experienced and observed to be an irresponsible lack of healthy communication, and a frightening apathy to significant fears and concerns I and others were passionate enough to share. I did and do not have the answers. Believe me, I have fought the insecurities of having no theological degrees to hang on my wall enough over the years to realize I was in over my head. But I asked for help. People I respect and care about asked for help. This was not about feeling “saucy” or being able to handle the “rigors of church ministry” or whether or not we could “work with people who aren't so considerate of [our] decisions.” We did however, after many hours of emotionally soul-bearing conversations, “get out of the way”. That was painfully a better option than “getting over it” which was a recurring directive.
Did I miss something or exactly when did we decide that “getting over it” is more Christ-like than loving someone through it? When did we decide that age equals wisdom and trumps conviction? When did we decide that leadership isn’t a team sport or that being devastated over watching people we deeply care about, being treated like they were elephants in the room, bumps in the road, thorns in the side, and silently walked past day after day as if nothing was wrong, meant having unhealthy attachments and obsessions?
It’s nothing new sadly enough. It’s everywhere. I read it in books. I see on blogs. I hear the stories of those in ministry who experience similar treatment by leadership in churches all over. And I wonder what we think we’re doing. I wonder why we excuse people repeatedly for poor behavior in the church. Why we accept and dismiss behavior from “mature” disciples we wouldn’t allow in an elementary Sunday school class. Having the entire book of Galatians memorized doesn’t impress me nearly as much as living it out one verse at a time and when the world lives out the fruit of a Spirit it doesn’t even have, better than the people it fills, and has filled for a long time, something is seriously wrong.
Take Tim. Why do we bother dedicating ourselves to praying for these little bundles of potential, planting such early seeds of ministry in their tiny hearts, watering them from one Sunday school teacher to the next, applauding them for their decisions to serve in full time ministry, [heck- even placing more cash in their graduation cards than we do their secular counterparts] all to literally destroy every hope and dream they ever had once we start signing their paychecks? Is it because they aren’t our own? Is it because we didn’t pray over them when they were small? Is it because they didn’t walk our aisle or sing in our children’s choir? Do we forget they are somebody’s Timothy? That there’s a congregation full of people somewhere who molded and mentored them for years, believing God would faithfully complete His work in them even if they would not reap the harvest? That’s the sadness in the eyes of his mother. That’s what keeps her on her knees well into the night. You see, when the congregation applauded his decision to enter the ministry that morning, her head dropped to hide the tears and the fear and maybe even the guilt of secretly wanting him to be a lawyer. She knew his journey would one day break not only his heart but also her own. She also knew she had dedicated his life to God before he was born and she must accept the sacrifice of laying him on the altar of service, in big red letters.
I have hope. God does some of His best work through our failures. And we can all do a better job of extending grace. I just expected something much different going in. I expected more. I expect it now. I expect people to understand that some of us didn’t leave because we were more concerned with our own needs than the ministry of the church. That we didn’t fold our arms & storm off because we didn’t get our way. That we weren’t trading teams. The ones I watched up close weren’t in good enough shape to do that. Some of us crawled out, trying our best to hold onto every ounce of dignity we had left. Some of us left pieces of our hearts behind. Pieces that go on dreaming God will work it all for good.
“What one has not experienced, one will never understand in print.”- Isadora Duncan
These postings will certainly never do this justice. I don’t suppose anyone will ever be able to explain how devastating this experience was for those of us who walked it. I just know it happened. I know it about killed us and I know we are not alone. There are others like us out there hurting while the kingdom suffers most of all. It isn’t the pretty painting I had hanging in my heart all these years, but it is what I saw. My perception. My truth. I want to move on. I’m in the process of doing exactly that, and yes, it was my decision to leave. Just be cautious about assumptions that it was easy, that it was frivolous, that it was small. And please don’t let it be for nothing. If there are no questions left behind, no voices, no searching, no pause given; then we walked it for nothing more than defining who we are and standing for what we believed in. We weren’t fighting to have our way, we were fighting for… Her. For the Bride of Christ who deserves to be adorned in the most delicate of laces. She deserves to be loved and cherished, protected and adored. And She deserves to be heard. If no one listens, more young brides will be heartbroken when the honeymoon ends, and young men like Tim will continue to walk away wounded and broken from the calling and passions God set like fire in their hearts.
Enough for today. Be thankful you only have to suffer through the reading. This follows some of us around like a second skin.
“Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so.” -Douglas Adams
Afterword:
*Tim was home for a visit last weekend. It’s been a long, painful road, but he’s giving the ministry another shot. Seems preaching is his passion after all. I’m already praying for the hearts of those who lead this congregation he will now call home-that they will protect the call of God on his life and heart, that they will protect the harvest to come, and that the Lord himself will go before, behind and all the way around him the rest of his days~
