God entrusted me with loving and leading human
beings as a pastor. Becoming a pastor was not my childhood dream or
something to which I aspired. By nature, I'm a loner. My gravitational pull is
to paper. Paper is safe. God’s call was to people and for that I’m forever
grateful. Pastoral ministry chiselled me into the person I am today.
A
pastor’s most endearing connections are with people in crisis. People going
through a divorce, facing debilitating distress, suddenly bereaved, or given a
terminal diagnosis. We cry together, struggle together, pray together, mourn
together, heal together and remember
together.
People are also the prime source of my own crises. Pastors
are synonymous with shepherds, and congregants with sheep. When sheep go astray
good shepherds pay the price.
A trusted pastor working with trusted leaders
is the core of a church’s credibility and stability. Sometimes a pastor is the
last to know when a trusted leader goes astray. Worse still is the manipulation
of privileged information to undermine trust in a pastor. A Judas kiss, I
discovered, is painful.
I process pain through writing. My journals
are filled with disappointments, frustration, and hurt that only God knows. Writing
is healing. It’s the beginning of forgiveness. Writing They Call Me Pastor was my emotive expression of betrayal - heart
to head to journal. Once my heart was on paper an impression came I could not
shake. It was an inner voice that sounded like the chief Shepherd. “Do you
think what you wrote would be helpful to pastors and to the people they pastor?
You should share this.”
Writing is one thing. Publishing is quite
another. Publishing requires vulnerability. Brene Brown says, “Vulnerability is
courage.” I like courage so I formatted my words and hit the publish button. The
post got some traction.
They Call
Me Pastor received the most number of
comments on my blog, the highest engagement of any post and was re-published in
Equip, a national leadership magazine.
I wrote:
When my leadership,
spiritual insight,
ministry,
vision,
friendship,
spiritual insight,
ministry,
vision,
friendship,
are no longer adequate for their,
preference/need/circumstance,
preference/need/circumstance,
and a close friend/co-worker/congregant
chooses to no longer be an ally,
chooses to no longer be an ally,
I have to say,
“Ouch,”
“Ouch,”
and then,
“Grace and peace to you.”
“Grace and peace to you.”
…and continue to focus on and nurture the people still
in my care.
I'd like to say that I have learned not to let such
experiences of loss affect me, but I haven’t.
I’ve concluded that pain is the price of caring and
vulnerability.
Jesus understood that.
After all,
who was it that experienced the first, “Judas Kiss?”
Pastors and congregants were quick to comment.
“Reading this as a pastor, it gives such
encouragement to persevere through the struggles and to celebrate through times
of growth and joy.”
My friend Frank printed off the post and
shares it with each of his first year pastoral students, informing them “this
is a pastor’s heart.”
The best writing, like the best ministry, is
birthed out of suffering, honesty and vulnerability.
I am
a recovering perfectionist who collects Coca-Cola memorabilia and
drinks iced tea. My walls are adorned with our sons’ framed football jerseys,
and my bookshelves, with soul food. I write to grow hope, inspire
people to be real, forge an authentic faith in Jesus, and discover
their life purpose.
Please follow my writing at REVwords
Please follow my writing at REVwords
This hits home. Remember folks - Pastors are people, too!
ReplyDeleteYes, we are. :)
DeleteBecoming a pastor when you tend to be a loner also shows a special brand of courage, Bob. But it is courage well-placed, based on trust in the One who called you. Sounds to me like your congregants were blessed to call you Pastor and friend. Judas kisses are certainly painful.
ReplyDeleteKind comments Susan. Thank you. I sense it would have been a joy to serve you and your family as a pastor.
DeleteMy husband and I have felt this pain, Bob. But 30+ years on it's all been worth it. I see by this that you feel the same. How blessed we are! :)
ReplyDeleteEmpathetic comments are priceless. Thank you Marcia.
DeleteThanks for the message Bob. As a retired pastor and chaplain I resonate with what you say. All in all, the price and pain is worth it all for the One we serve. It was only God who helped me overcome a leading fear in me. That fear was "people." As only God can do, I served people in one way or another for over forty years. Now I'm "retired" I still serve but in a different way. Writing has been a great assistant for me to get through the years of serving. Bless you Bob!
ReplyDeleteGood on you, Alan, for serving faithfully as a pastor and chaplain. 40 years is a number of "completion."
DeleteThanks for sharing your disappointing experience from the heart. By your honesty and openness, you have, no doubt, helped others deal with their own feelings of betrayal. Life has surprises and they aren’t all good ones. In the case of the Judas kiss, Jesus had foreknowledge, but I’m sure that kiss had a real sting also. After meeting you a few years ago, I believe you would have the grace to be a good listener to others who are dealing with their own losses, betrayals, and suffering. May God continue to bless you and your service in whatever path he calls you to walk.
ReplyDeleteHow about that, Bob. I too am a loner and would rather deal with computers than people. But God chose me and gave me a passion for truth. Though I live like a hermit, I can reach out to the world through my high speed Internet connection. I blog and I'm slowly putting together a book about who goes to heaven from the Bible's perspective. I used to feel that God made a mistake picking me. But my life's experiences shows me that he knew what he was doing all along.
ReplyDelete