I found out this week that yet another seminary colleague is leaving his/ her church position for the second time since we graduated five years ago.
I don't know why this distresses me so, or if it bothers anyone other than me that the average length of time for a minister in his/ her first call after seminary is less than two years. (I have no independent confirmation of that figure, fyi -- that's just the casual wisdom cited around the seminary when I was in attendance.) But it really bugs me that my generation of clergy are bailing out on congregations, and in some cases, leaving ministry all together. I've been thinking about why this is a lot and I've come up with one of my theories that I'd like to post here, knowing fully that this probably doesn't make a lot of difference to pretty much anyone who may be reading this, but also knowing that some of you will suffer through my rant just because you're nice people. So thanks.
I want to admit up front before I start said rant -- I am someone who has thought about moving a thousand times and in the last five and a half years of my employment at FCC, Rock Falls, I've had my name in the Search and Call system three times. The first time was when I'd been here for about two years and was prompted, by some miscellaneous discontent -- I think I thought I wasn't being paid enough, the church wasn't changing enough, people actually wanted me to visit their friends in the nursing home -- something like that...
Anyway, by the grace of God, and by the grace of God alone, I was never contacted by any viable options when I put my papers out into the system. And each time, within a couple of months, something happened -- I got a raise, met Dennis, got pregnant -- that would prompt me to return to my belief that God called me here in the first place.
(Point of clarification for those who don't know and do care -- in our denomination, congregations call ministers directly; we are not appointed. Our denominational system to "facilitate" "(whether it actually "facilitates" is an entirely other post/ rant) this process is referred to as "Search and Call" which is a pretty self-explanatory term.)
Here's my experience, that I think pretty similarly echoes the experience of many of my seminary colleagues, if they are honest about it. I'm sure there are exceptions and this really may not apply to anyone out of my denominational circle. You can let me know.
Like many of my clergy colleagues, I grew up in the church. My home congregation was "home" in more than one way. It was the place I felt loved and embraced. It was a place of comfort and nurture. It was also the place that I was adored.
I loved being adored at church. My congregation, like those of many of my clergy colleagues, was one that had been gloriously relevant about 10 years before I was born and was/ is still adjusting to a lack of young families and the whole-hearted involvement of children, youth, young adults, middle aged adults, older adults, etc. in its' programs.
When I was growing up, there were about 10 of us in our youth group. About five of us were die-hards. And we were adored. We were allowed to sit in the back of the church and leave and go hang out in the youth room during the sermon. We were allowed to direct Christmas pageants and present special "Youth Worship" services. We were encouraged to plan all sorts of fun fellowship events. And when we did these things, we were lauded and applauded and smiled upon by our elders.
And I, and most of my seminary colleagues, received our calls to ministry during this time. Usually these calls came at church camp when we were surrounded by other teens in a potent mix of devotion and hormones and exceedingly high humidity or mission trips where we were free of parents and aware in a new way of a world beyond us and the possibility of being part of something larger than ourselves. And we took those calls and earnestly expressed them to our home congregations where they lauded and applauded and smiled at us and directed us towards our denominational colleges, which, incidentally, were coming to terms with pre-ministry programs that had peaked about 50 years before I was born. And when we applied to these colleges, they directed us to the fellowships and scholarships and endowments left by folks who had graduated 50 years before we were born and put us in contact with a Chaplain who encouraged many of us to work with our region in the camping program during the summer or at a church as an intern during the year where we were, of course, lauded and applauded and smiled upon. And when we graduated from college, we went to our denominational seminaries where most of us received free or mostly free tuition and where we remained in the very small world that is our denomination, well-connected to regions and camping programs and pastors who had smiled upon us. And those same people encouraged us to apply near them or for them or to them for positions when we came to ordination and then we ended up in our first churches.
But somewhere along the line, someone forgot to memo these first churches and tell them that we were supposed to be adored for simply being young and at church. For a while, most of us were, of course, adored for just being there, but like all honeymoons periods, eventually the moon waned. And that's when many of us put papers into Search and Call and moved on to a second congregation where we settled for while, though many of us are vaguely or even keenly aware that there MUST be another congregation out there somewhere that is a better fit for us.
So with that background-- here's what I realized about myself about a year ago that led me to my thoughts on why me and so many of my colleagues have wrestled with our first (or second) callings (or, as I like to call it -- April's Grand Theory on Wussy and Whiny Pastors). Those who know me, know that I have a very annoying habit of thinking that everything that applies to me probably applies to everyone else as well...
I should mention -- I have seen apparent exceptions to this theory and actually am privileged to work with one in my neighboring town. He inspires me. But what I've observed in him also convicts me that I may just be right about this theory.
ANYWAY -- I realized that in all that time of connection to the church, I had developed a strong relationship with the church, but not actually with Jesus. In fact, my spiritual development was about nil. I knew what to say about it to convince my ordination committee that I was sufficiently prepared to lead a church. I knew how to pass off to a search committee my sacrificial love for a potential congregation. I knew how to be indignant about other clergy who didn't share my apparent devotion to some miscellaneous cause/ theology or another. But in actuality, the relationship with Jesus that had the power to sustain me in ministry -- the reason on which I should have based my entire life -- did not exist in any real form. Oh sure, it was there when I was desperate or angry or tired. But it was not an integral part of me.
And though ultimately my spiritual development was/ is my own responsibility, almost NEVER was I challenged about that on the way through the hoops to ordination and my first call. My ordination committee raised a perfunctory question that was sufficiently distressing to me that I should have seen red flags all over the place, but they were easily pacified. And I was/ am one who wears my spiritual disfunction on the outside. When I was in seminary, I was a 350 lb, slobby, and desperate mess of a person and I'd been that mess of a person since my sophomore year of college. I don't know if I would have had ears to hear it, but I do think someone in the church should have said, "You know, going into the ministry is not going to fix this self-loathe thing you have going." And then someone else probably should have said it again. About 100 times.
But they didn't. And seminary certainly did not help it. And though none of my seminary colleagues wore their fear/ anxiety/ spiritual angst like I did, I can tell you -- many of those people had/have BIG issues -- and the most common one that I saw and experienced and shared was the desperate need for adoration from others. And though many of us got that at church growing up, I think a lot of us are in crisis because adoration is much less forthcoming after the first year of ministry and we don't have the spiritual resources to fall back on when the adoration is gone.
In my personal experience, about a year ago, I was once again flummoxed by dissention at church. Some of it wasn't fair, but some of it was and I found myself retreating back to the old "well, maybe it's time to move on" thought process. And suddenly I realized that when God called me to ministry, He called me to follow Jesus. He called me to minister to people. And ministering to people WAS NOT dependent on whether they ministered to me first. When God called me to ministry, He called me to a missionary position. My job, from God, is to minister. And whether I'm ministered to -- well, that's someone else's job. It's real nice if it happens, but my calling -- to ministry and to this congregation in particular -- can't depend on whether they minister to me first. I was called to follow Jesus. And Jesus ended up on the cross. I hope it doesn't come to that, but that's what I was called to do and that's what I agreed to do so that's what I have to do.
See -- the thing was -- the relationship with the church was not enough to sustain in times of pressure and frustration. The adoration was fleeting. And the relationship with the church was not deep enough to redeem me when I'd made mistakes and hurt people. It was usually not enough to redeem others when they'd made mistakes and hurt me. Being lauded and applauded and smiled upon was just not enough, especially when I knew that I didn't deserve the applause.
I've realized that the relationship with the church is a wonderful side-benefit of my relationship with Jesus. And I have to say -- it has gotten 1000 times better since I stopped expecting the church to prove its love for me before I was willing to show my love for it. It's still icky sometimes. Sometimes it's downright shitty (sorry, Gramps, for the curse word). But inevitably there is grace somewhere in the midst of the gunk that arrives when I focus on why exactly I am in ministry.
What distresses me about my colleagues in ministry dropping off like flies to the left and right is that our denomination is already in decline. Big-time decline. And many congregations have very distrustful relationships with pastors partly because pastors have treated them poorly. And to be fair to pastors, many congregations have treated pastors incredibly poorly, too.
BUT -- expecting that a congregation will understand its calling before we ourselves are willing to understand and enact our callings is reverting back to that adored high-school youth group member mentality. I'm not saying that we offer ourselves up for crucifixion everytime the CWF wants to change the silverware in the kitchen, BUT we MUST be willing to sacrifice more than a commensurate salary in a secular job and a nice house, right?
IT IS OUR JOBS AS PASTORS to be willing to "go for them." And if we don't do it -- who will? Didn't God ask us? Didn't we say, "yes?" So why are we complaining, whining, and wussing out from where we need to be?
Yes, so. That's my rant. It is, indeed, SO one-sided and one-dimensional. I do know that and I continue to remind myself to pray for my brothers and sisters in ministry.
My prayer is that God will raise up in each of us a willingness to be called and to respond to that calling. Sometimes doing God's work seems so exhausting. But I think there are wings like eagles waiting for us if we are willing to set down what keeps us from being lifted up. And it seems to me that believing that promise and searching out the Promiser has made such an enormous difference in being able to hear the call in the midst of frustration. I hope others are renewed and restored. I need them to be here.
I don't know why this distresses me so, or if it bothers anyone other than me that the average length of time for a minister in his/ her first call after seminary is less than two years. (I have no independent confirmation of that figure, fyi -- that's just the casual wisdom cited around the seminary when I was in attendance.) But it really bugs me that my generation of clergy are bailing out on congregations, and in some cases, leaving ministry all together. I've been thinking about why this is a lot and I've come up with one of my theories that I'd like to post here, knowing fully that this probably doesn't make a lot of difference to pretty much anyone who may be reading this, but also knowing that some of you will suffer through my rant just because you're nice people. So thanks.
I want to admit up front before I start said rant -- I am someone who has thought about moving a thousand times and in the last five and a half years of my employment at FCC, Rock Falls, I've had my name in the Search and Call system three times. The first time was when I'd been here for about two years and was prompted, by some miscellaneous discontent -- I think I thought I wasn't being paid enough, the church wasn't changing enough, people actually wanted me to visit their friends in the nursing home -- something like that...
Anyway, by the grace of God, and by the grace of God alone, I was never contacted by any viable options when I put my papers out into the system. And each time, within a couple of months, something happened -- I got a raise, met Dennis, got pregnant -- that would prompt me to return to my belief that God called me here in the first place.
(Point of clarification for those who don't know and do care -- in our denomination, congregations call ministers directly; we are not appointed. Our denominational system to "facilitate" "(whether it actually "facilitates" is an entirely other post/ rant) this process is referred to as "Search and Call" which is a pretty self-explanatory term.)
Here's my experience, that I think pretty similarly echoes the experience of many of my seminary colleagues, if they are honest about it. I'm sure there are exceptions and this really may not apply to anyone out of my denominational circle. You can let me know.
Like many of my clergy colleagues, I grew up in the church. My home congregation was "home" in more than one way. It was the place I felt loved and embraced. It was a place of comfort and nurture. It was also the place that I was adored.
I loved being adored at church. My congregation, like those of many of my clergy colleagues, was one that had been gloriously relevant about 10 years before I was born and was/ is still adjusting to a lack of young families and the whole-hearted involvement of children, youth, young adults, middle aged adults, older adults, etc. in its' programs.
When I was growing up, there were about 10 of us in our youth group. About five of us were die-hards. And we were adored. We were allowed to sit in the back of the church and leave and go hang out in the youth room during the sermon. We were allowed to direct Christmas pageants and present special "Youth Worship" services. We were encouraged to plan all sorts of fun fellowship events. And when we did these things, we were lauded and applauded and smiled upon by our elders.
And I, and most of my seminary colleagues, received our calls to ministry during this time. Usually these calls came at church camp when we were surrounded by other teens in a potent mix of devotion and hormones and exceedingly high humidity or mission trips where we were free of parents and aware in a new way of a world beyond us and the possibility of being part of something larger than ourselves. And we took those calls and earnestly expressed them to our home congregations where they lauded and applauded and smiled at us and directed us towards our denominational colleges, which, incidentally, were coming to terms with pre-ministry programs that had peaked about 50 years before I was born. And when we applied to these colleges, they directed us to the fellowships and scholarships and endowments left by folks who had graduated 50 years before we were born and put us in contact with a Chaplain who encouraged many of us to work with our region in the camping program during the summer or at a church as an intern during the year where we were, of course, lauded and applauded and smiled upon. And when we graduated from college, we went to our denominational seminaries where most of us received free or mostly free tuition and where we remained in the very small world that is our denomination, well-connected to regions and camping programs and pastors who had smiled upon us. And those same people encouraged us to apply near them or for them or to them for positions when we came to ordination and then we ended up in our first churches.
But somewhere along the line, someone forgot to memo these first churches and tell them that we were supposed to be adored for simply being young and at church. For a while, most of us were, of course, adored for just being there, but like all honeymoons periods, eventually the moon waned. And that's when many of us put papers into Search and Call and moved on to a second congregation where we settled for while, though many of us are vaguely or even keenly aware that there MUST be another congregation out there somewhere that is a better fit for us.
So with that background-- here's what I realized about myself about a year ago that led me to my thoughts on why me and so many of my colleagues have wrestled with our first (or second) callings (or, as I like to call it -- April's Grand Theory on Wussy and Whiny Pastors). Those who know me, know that I have a very annoying habit of thinking that everything that applies to me probably applies to everyone else as well...
I should mention -- I have seen apparent exceptions to this theory and actually am privileged to work with one in my neighboring town. He inspires me. But what I've observed in him also convicts me that I may just be right about this theory.
ANYWAY -- I realized that in all that time of connection to the church, I had developed a strong relationship with the church, but not actually with Jesus. In fact, my spiritual development was about nil. I knew what to say about it to convince my ordination committee that I was sufficiently prepared to lead a church. I knew how to pass off to a search committee my sacrificial love for a potential congregation. I knew how to be indignant about other clergy who didn't share my apparent devotion to some miscellaneous cause/ theology or another. But in actuality, the relationship with Jesus that had the power to sustain me in ministry -- the reason on which I should have based my entire life -- did not exist in any real form. Oh sure, it was there when I was desperate or angry or tired. But it was not an integral part of me.
And though ultimately my spiritual development was/ is my own responsibility, almost NEVER was I challenged about that on the way through the hoops to ordination and my first call. My ordination committee raised a perfunctory question that was sufficiently distressing to me that I should have seen red flags all over the place, but they were easily pacified. And I was/ am one who wears my spiritual disfunction on the outside. When I was in seminary, I was a 350 lb, slobby, and desperate mess of a person and I'd been that mess of a person since my sophomore year of college. I don't know if I would have had ears to hear it, but I do think someone in the church should have said, "You know, going into the ministry is not going to fix this self-loathe thing you have going." And then someone else probably should have said it again. About 100 times.
But they didn't. And seminary certainly did not help it. And though none of my seminary colleagues wore their fear/ anxiety/ spiritual angst like I did, I can tell you -- many of those people had/have BIG issues -- and the most common one that I saw and experienced and shared was the desperate need for adoration from others. And though many of us got that at church growing up, I think a lot of us are in crisis because adoration is much less forthcoming after the first year of ministry and we don't have the spiritual resources to fall back on when the adoration is gone.
In my personal experience, about a year ago, I was once again flummoxed by dissention at church. Some of it wasn't fair, but some of it was and I found myself retreating back to the old "well, maybe it's time to move on" thought process. And suddenly I realized that when God called me to ministry, He called me to follow Jesus. He called me to minister to people. And ministering to people WAS NOT dependent on whether they ministered to me first. When God called me to ministry, He called me to a missionary position. My job, from God, is to minister. And whether I'm ministered to -- well, that's someone else's job. It's real nice if it happens, but my calling -- to ministry and to this congregation in particular -- can't depend on whether they minister to me first. I was called to follow Jesus. And Jesus ended up on the cross. I hope it doesn't come to that, but that's what I was called to do and that's what I agreed to do so that's what I have to do.
See -- the thing was -- the relationship with the church was not enough to sustain in times of pressure and frustration. The adoration was fleeting. And the relationship with the church was not deep enough to redeem me when I'd made mistakes and hurt people. It was usually not enough to redeem others when they'd made mistakes and hurt me. Being lauded and applauded and smiled upon was just not enough, especially when I knew that I didn't deserve the applause.
I've realized that the relationship with the church is a wonderful side-benefit of my relationship with Jesus. And I have to say -- it has gotten 1000 times better since I stopped expecting the church to prove its love for me before I was willing to show my love for it. It's still icky sometimes. Sometimes it's downright shitty (sorry, Gramps, for the curse word). But inevitably there is grace somewhere in the midst of the gunk that arrives when I focus on why exactly I am in ministry.
What distresses me about my colleagues in ministry dropping off like flies to the left and right is that our denomination is already in decline. Big-time decline. And many congregations have very distrustful relationships with pastors partly because pastors have treated them poorly. And to be fair to pastors, many congregations have treated pastors incredibly poorly, too.
BUT -- expecting that a congregation will understand its calling before we ourselves are willing to understand and enact our callings is reverting back to that adored high-school youth group member mentality. I'm not saying that we offer ourselves up for crucifixion everytime the CWF wants to change the silverware in the kitchen, BUT we MUST be willing to sacrifice more than a commensurate salary in a secular job and a nice house, right?
IT IS OUR JOBS AS PASTORS to be willing to "go for them." And if we don't do it -- who will? Didn't God ask us? Didn't we say, "yes?" So why are we complaining, whining, and wussing out from where we need to be?
Yes, so. That's my rant. It is, indeed, SO one-sided and one-dimensional. I do know that and I continue to remind myself to pray for my brothers and sisters in ministry.
My prayer is that God will raise up in each of us a willingness to be called and to respond to that calling. Sometimes doing God's work seems so exhausting. But I think there are wings like eagles waiting for us if we are willing to set down what keeps us from being lifted up. And it seems to me that believing that promise and searching out the Promiser has made such an enormous difference in being able to hear the call in the midst of frustration. I hope others are renewed and restored. I need them to be here.
