Author Archives: jledmiston

*Many of us, especially in the fields of education, law, medicine, and professional ministry, refer to what we do for our livelihood as a “calling.” If we support ourselves financially by doing something we feel “called” to do, then we are privileged indeed. Many people have “jobs” that pay the bills but these sources of income do nothing for their souls. This post is specifically for those seeking new calls.

On any given day, I know dozens of people seeking a new call which in professional ministry means a new position in a church/hospital/college/non-profit/school. A new “calling” seems to mean that we are switching vocations all together: from nursing to professional ministry, for example. (Note: I say “professional ministry” instead of “ministry” because Cindy Bolbach reminded me on a regular basis that we are all called to ministry whether we are painters, surgeons, or toll takers.)

I am fortunate in that I have had a sense that every “call” I’ve had since ordination felt right for that time and season.

I’ve been a rural church pastor, an urban/suburban pastor, and what’s called a “Mid-Council Leader” in two different Presbyteries. I would say that each position has felt – intuitively – like something God wanted me to do even though there were plusses and minuses to each position:

• Rural Solo Pastor – I gave up privacy, anonymity, and city life for gorgeous scenery, knowing everybody in town, and a lifetime of memorable stories (e.g. the ventriloquist funeral director, learning how to hypnotize a chicken, leading worship in a circus tent at the county fair with the bearded lady and the Flying Mariotti Brothers.)
• Urban/Suburban Pastor – I gave up small town relationships and easy access to Vermont for living in the shadow of Our Nation’s Capital and a congregation of transient people who moved in and out of the area based on elections and military assignments. And there were even more stories (which I cannot share here #SecurityClearances)
• Mid-Council Leader – I gave up children shouting “Pastor Jan! Pastor Jan!” when they saw me in the grocery store. I gave up regularly baptizing babies and writing them letters to open on their 10th birthday. I gave up preaching to the same congregation every week. But I slept better knowing I didn’t have to raise money for a new church roof or write a brand new sermon every week. I gained being the pastor to pastors, but not to every pastor because I also would have to share hard things like “it’s time to retire” or “we know you’ve been embezzling money.”

All of us want “the perfect call” – one that feeds us spiritually and pays us well and involves a modest commute and seems mostly healthy and includes people who are open to the moving of the Holy Spirit alongside us. Bonus points for a culture of encouragement and grace and good humor.

While I hope for all of those seeking a new call to find “the perfect” one, it’s most likely not out there. A new call might even feel perfect but then we learn that the church pillar is actually kind of mean and the same people who said they were all about changing the world for good in the name of Jesus actually want the pastor to change the world while they watch.

And so what about the “good enough” call?

What about asking God if this position might be the one even if the pay is not what you’d hoped for and there are too few children and the musician seems unadventurous? But . . . there’s something about the people that seems interesting and wonderful. And there’s a woman on the Search Committee who reminds you of your lovely second grade teacher. And there’s a lot of laughter. And even though you never dreamed you’d live in that part of the world, there’s something drawing you to ponder living in that part of the world.

Like I said, feeling “called” is an enormous privilege. And quite often God surprises us.

“There are things worth fighting for although I wish there was another way to do it than to try to kill each other. We’ll learn one of these days, but I won’t be around for that.”  Walter Stitt, age 99, who fought on Omaha Beach on June 6, 1944

The tributes to veterans who fought on D-Day 80 years ago have have been so beautiful and powerful, especially because the time is coming when the D-Day veterans will no longer be with us.

And I hope – as we in the United States vote this November – that we will consider the words of both the veterans and heads of state at these ceremonies when we enter the voting booth. In our divided nation, it feels unifying to hear words against tyranny and for characteristics like honor, sacrifice, and freedom.

We sometimes disagree what it means to be free. Does freedom include control over our own bodies? Does freedom include personal purchases of military weapons? Does freedom include keeping a certain demographic out of our neighborhoods? Does freedom include shouting incendiary words into a megaphone?

Today I was especially proud to be an American as I witnessed over 100 immigrants become citizens of the United States. They hailed from Ukraine and Russia, Eritrea and Ghana, Turkey and Uzbekistan, Philippines and Vietnam. Honduras and Haiti. Every corner of the planet.

Children were invited to lead us all in the Pledge of Allegiance. Representatives from the League of Women Voters assisted new citizens as they registered to vote. Photos were taken in front of American flags and banners that proclaimed “Today I Am An American.”

One of those new citizens is a friend who is a leader in one of our congregations in the Presbytery of Charlotte and I could not be happier that he is not only my brother in Christ and my neighbor, but that we now share the same kind of passport and the same liberties and privileges. The American passport is considered one of the most valuable in the world. “People treat you with more respect when you carry an American passport,” my friend shared over lunch after the ceremony.

I wish every native-born American could attend one of these naturalization ceremonies. I wish every aspiration of the U.S. Constitution was attainable for all people. I wish all people treated each other with respect no matter what passport they held. I wish there was a way to defend what we believe in without trying to kill each other.

Today I am an American and I’m feeling particularly patriotic. And we have a lot of work to do. Yes to honor, sacrifice and freedom. No to dishonor, selfishness and authoritarianism. Please vote in November.

Image of new American Pastor Amisi who was born in the Democratic Republic of the Congo and is now a citizen of the United States of America.

“Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people.” Karl Marx

“Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. What profit has a man from all his labor in which he toils under the sun?” Ecclesiastes 1:2-3

I don’t mean to bum everybody out. And I must confess that I haven’t yet finished Brian McLaren’s new book Life After Doom: Wisdom and Courage for a World Falling Apart. But in light of layers upon layers of evil saturating the world these days, I’m thinking about this:

• How do we have hope when – if the bombing stopped at this very minute in Rafah – there would still be generations and generations of trauma that would impact the future of humanity?
• How do we have hope when half of our nation believes the disinformation disseminated by people whose purpose is to seek chaos and power?
• How do we have hope when – as Miguel De La Torre has so brilliantly written – there are millions of people who have never experienced it? They include the refugee, for example, who has never had security so expecting “everything to work out” sounds like a joke.

I’m in the hope business. I believe in resurrection on this earth and beyond the earth. I believe that God can bring some semblance of good out of the most horrible circumstances. I also believe that Kate Bowler and Elie Wiesel are right about human suffering and human nature.

We who are privileged, we who have had zero experience with hunger, captivity, torture, homelessness, statelessness, or abject poverty have a number of imperfect – if not dangerous – responses when we consider the agony of the world:

• If they (the suffering) are faithful, everything will pan out for them in the afterlife, so we have no responsibilities to address their suffering in this life. (Note: this is not Biblical. Read Matthew 25)
• Being faithful primarily involves our personal relationship with Jesus and God will take care of the rest. Just so we are included in the rapture . . . (Note: the Rapture was “the Plymouth Brethren’s gift to Christendom way back in the 1830s” according to Brian McLaren who grew up in that denomination.)
• It’s not my problem and – anyway – it’s depressing to think about. (Note: This might be the height of White Supremacy.)
• It’s just the way things are. “The poor will always be with us.” (Note: For the love of God, please read Liz Theoharis.)

According to McLaren, Marx was not necessarily attacking religion. He was pointing out that the utter agony in the world – often felt most thoroughly by those who are exploited by the powerful – moves us to “seek an anesthetic to numb it.” Sometimes we numb out with alcohol and drugs. And there are some who numb out with religious hope. McLaren writes:

“The opiate offered by religion is the hope of a pain-free heaven. By dealing this drug of hope – many today call it “hope-ium” – religion offers palliative care to the oppressed between now and their death.”

Neither McLaren nor I love the term “hope-ium.” Hope is a good thing and it’s not necessarily a crutch at all. Hope is messy, ridiculous, and holy. My favorite speech about hope (which starts out being about love) continues to be this one written by Phoebe Bridger Waller and spoken by the “hot priest” at a wedding on Fleabag:

“Love is awful. It’s awful. It’s painful. It’s frightening. It makes you doubt yourself, judge yourself, distance yourself from the other people in your life. It makes you selfish. It makes you creepy, makes you obsessed with your hair, makes you cruel, makes you say and do things you never thought you would do. It’s all any of us want, and it’s hell when we get there. So no wonder it’s something we don’t want to do on our own. I was taught if we’re born with love then life is about choosing the right place to put it. People talk about that a lot, feeling right, when it feels right it’s easy. But I’m not sure that’s true. It takes strength to know what’s right. And love isn’t something that weak people do. Being a romantic takes a hell of a lot of hope. I think what they mean is, when you find somebody that you love, it feels like hope.”

The bottom line is always love. When we love people – even those suffering halfway across the world – there is hope.

How – in love – can we respond to the agony of the world? There are indeed ways. I have some ideas now, and I’ll have more after I finish the book.

Image of Brian McLaren’s new book which is not for the fainthearted. You can order it here.

This is a two-part post about both the sacred and the profane. It’s about our personal calling and our corporate calling.

Yesterday, when I finished Say Nothing (again) about the conflicts in Northern Ireland, I was reminded what happened to the body of Jean McConville. For many years, her children suffered the horror of not knowing.

It occurs to me today that not knowing what happened to our loved ones must be one of the most traumatic griefs imaginable and yet there are countless people on the earth right now – and throughout history – that have gone to their grave not knowing.

This is our corporate calling:

• To tend to the grievers and especially to those who grieve without answers. It is surely horrible not to know what happened to those we’ve lost.
• To refrain from looking away from those who grieve. In every nation on every continent from those kidnapped and murdered by Hamas on October 7, 2023 to those disenfranchised and murdered by Israel since, we must do what we can do to alleviate violence. Address injustice where we are able. Comfort the sorrowful at every opportunity. Vote for peace.

As I return to my own vocation after my first adventure with Covid last week, I’m reminded daily of choices that congregations and those serving congregations make that result in difficult but avoidable situations.

This is our personal calling:

• To tell the truth about ourselves. It’s healthy to tell a search committee or a board of elders or a supervisor the truth about ourselves: that we are not gifted in administration, that we don’t love ministry with youth, that we are extroverts only for Jesus which means we need our Sabbath time.
• To tell the truth about our congregations. My favorite question for a candidate to ask a search committee is, “What are the skeletons in your church closet?” In other words where are the bodies hidden and why? My favorite comments made about our own congregations include these: “We say we want to grow, but honestly we don’t.” “We know we exist only for ourselves, but we are too tired to care about anything else.” I would rather we express the truth than waste everybody’s time making unnecessary efforts.

These two topics make seem totally incongruous and they are, to a point. But here’s the touchpoint:

We can be a different Church – a Church that offers presence to those in pain in ways we are not already offering. Who are the broken people we are called to serve? The world’s pain and trauma are overwhelming and it’s no wonder that so many of us tune it out/stop watching the news. But Jesus never looked away from pain.

Rejoicing today for those moments when we learn the truth.

And speaking of learning the truth:

Image used with permission by my PCUSA colleague Becky D’Angelo-Veitch. This was her great-uncle’s gravestone for 80 years before it was identified as her grandmother’s brother, PFC Bartholomew Loschiavo who died in WWII. Some bodies are known only to God, but what a blessing when we get answers.

More about our recent adventure in the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland:

My beloved preaching group is called Roundtable and we’ve been a thing for almost 25 years. We used to write papers and share sermons which was a rich and treasured tradition. But we stopped this practice a few years ago for several reasons.

• We were really tired and wanted to stop forcing ourselves to take on an additional academic responsibility to prepare for – as we prepared to be out of town for study leave which is already a lot.
• We found that “sermon preparation” includes conversations about novels, speakers, and fertile conversations and – after decades of getting together – we already had plenty of traditional exegetical resources and other people’s sermons illustrations.

For this trip, we read Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland by Patrick Radden Keefe. And I’m re-reading it now that I’ve walked in the Bogside in Derry and sat in one of the holiest places in Belfast – Padriac O’Tuoma’s flat.

In the Republican and the UK parts of Ireland, we talked with both Catholics and Protestants whose relationships are now far better than during “The Troubles.” But there are still tender memories of bitter hate. More than one person mentioned “never knowing a Catholic” until adulthood or “not playing Protestant games” as children. (Note: Catholic school children still play Gaelic football and hurling while Protestant schoolchildren play rugby and cricket.) One of our tour guides lost his own teenage brother in Bloody Sunday.

Keefe writes in Say Nothing about the British officers’ general dehumanization of the Irish Catholics in Belfast:

“These people are savages”

. . . which is the time tested way of othering our neighbors whether we are talking about Hutus and Tutsis, Bosniaks, Serbs, and Croats, Native Americans and colonists, slaveholders and enslaved, or Republicans and Democrats. “Savages” are also known as “vermin” or “deplorables.”

This is a friendly reminder that Jesus calls all those people – and us – siblings. Children of God. Beloved.

Here we are remembering those who have given their lives in defense of our country this weekend and I love Memorial Day for this reason. Stories of inexplicable heroism and courage cannot be denied and we owe our lives to many of those who died in national service. I am no pacifist which is embarrassing to write since I call myself a follower of Jesus – who was indeed a pacifist. I would be lying if I didn’t confess that if you hurt one of my kids – or one of your kids, or one of God’s most vulnerable kids – I will cut you.

Calling each other savages or vermin or deplorables is certainly the opposite of holy. And yet Jesus called the Pharisees a “brood of vipers.”

But then he died for them, so there’s that.

I suppose we can also call people who get on our last nerve, people who are horrible, people who are – yes, I’ll say it – evil various “othering names.” But then Jesus says we must ask God to have mercy on them and on us and – for the love of God – we are not supposed to kill them, except in self-defense.

I will thank God forever for people like my clergy group who help me grapple with what God is calling us to preach and teach and do and be in these days. What I know for sure is that we are called to love our enemies and there are tremendous risks when we do that. Read Say Nothing if you need examples.

Image of one of the stained glass windows at The Duncairn Center in Belfast, home of the 174 Trust, dedicated to peacemaking and the arts since 1983.

You know the feeling. It’s time for a vacation or at least some different scenery. It’s time to access where we are and where we are headed but we are simply too exhausted to expend the energy and – besides – there’s laundry to do.

I’m just back from a week of vacation and then then ten days of study leave, and I needed it like nobody’s business. On the last day of vacation on our way to Dublin for time with my clergy group, HH and I visited the Imperial War Museum in London. This is not my usual thing, but The Holocaust Galleries drew us in for both historic and current reasons.

On our way out, we saw a section of the Berlin Wall pictured above which was painted by Jurgen Grosse (aka Indiano) and it occurred to me that every one of us needs to change our lives in some ways. We list resolutions that fall away. We listen to podcasts that coach us into altering our routines.

But what builds resilience for the long haul of life requires stepping away – taking a vacation, a sabbatical, a period of study leave. This is one of many reasons that my denomination requires both study leave and sabbatical – to reset and re-discern how we are living our lives.

Too many of my colleagues use both study leave and sabbatical to continue the slog: write a book, outline future sermons, catch up on emails. This is not replenishing behavior.

What I’m not saying: that there is no learning allowed during time away.

What I am saying: time away gives us the space to learn things we’ve not considered.

I learned too much over the last ten days to share it all in one post, but in a nutshell I learned/was reminded that:

• Every SS member had to swear an oath to Hitler that they would give their lives for him. (The Holocaust Galleries)
• The peace center Corrymeela in Ballycastle was so named because it meant “hills of harmony” until someone with better linguistic chops noted that it actually means “crossroads of lumpy places.” (Better.)
• Most church conflict involves indirect actors taking over the story so what we are fighting about isn’t even real. (Seriously – this is life-changing for those of us who do mediation.)
• The rocks on the Giant’s Causeway look like someone cut basalt into hexagonal shapes and stacked them into columns. There are only two other places on earth with that kind of geological formation and they are all connected to each other underwater. (Cool.)
• “Conversion is the key to peacemaking,” said the global treasure Padriag O’Tuoma (where we sat in his flat and fan-girled.) More about this later.
• “Our job as pastors is to teach God’s people how to be good neighbors,” said Bill Shaw, Executive Director of The Duncairn Center in Belfast.
• A country (and its leaders) who confess past injustice are not “woke” or “agitative.” They are peacemakers. David Cameron in 2010 to the House of Commons confessing that the events known as Bloody Sunday in Belfast when British troops killed 14 unarmed protesters who had been accused of being terrorists: Mr Speaker, I am deeply patriotic. I never want to believe anything bad about our country. But the conclusions of this report are absolutely clear. There is no doubt. There is nothing equivocal. There are no ambiguities. What happened on Bloody Sunday was both unjustified and unjustifiable. It was wrong. (Take note patriots.)
• Derry Girls makes more sense to me now.

Also – the lens of an iPhone is better than the human eye when capturing the Northern Lights.

We can change our lives but it involves stepping out of our usual routines. And this builds resilience my friends. It’s almost summer. Take some time to change your life.

Image of a graffitied section of the Berlin Wall painted by East German artist Jurgen Grosse/Indiano (1989-1990) at the Imperial War Museum in London.

Taking some time to rest and vacate. See you again in Mid-May.

Image of Corrymeela in County Antrim, Northern Ireland.

One of the marks of a healthy church – in my opinion – is clarity between being transparent and holding things in confidence.

Our friends on LinkedIn define transparency and confidentiality this way:

Transparency is the practice of sharing relevant and timely information with your team, stakeholders, and customers.

Confidentiality is the obligation to protect sensitive or private information from unauthorized disclosure.

I’ve known people who wanted to serve in certain roles or on certain committees in order to get the dirt on church members or pastors. I’ve known “prayer circles” who cross the line between pastoral concern and what’s the secret scoop on our church friends.

Congregations with trust issues are the ones where visitors attend all business meetings because they don’t trust the leaders to share what’s going on. They have to see for themselves.

Congregations with trust issues are the ones with over-large boards. Show me a congregation with a membership of 100 and a elder board of 24 and I’ll show you a congregation that doesn’t trust each other.

What’s the everyday difference between transparency and confidentiality?

• It’s transparent to share that the pastor is taking time off for a medical procedure and will be back in the office in six weeks. The purpose of the pastor’s surgery is confidential.
• It’s transparent to share that the Christian Educator is leaving our congregation after three years of service. The reason the Christian Educator is leaving so abruptly is confidential.
• It’s transparent for the Pastor Nominating Committee to share that there are three finalists for the Pastor position. It’s breaking confidence to identify their names or details about them.

I once ran into a former church member in Marshall’s and she was furious about the fact that one of the pastors in her new church across town had been fired. “He was the best preacher on staff.” “He was loved by everyone.” “He visited my mother in the hospital.” “The other pastors must have been jealous of him and they got rid of him.”

As a leader in that Presbytery, I happened to know that the reason that pastor was fired involved sexual misconduct with youth members. It would have been easy for me to reveal that and shut her down. But I said something like, “You need to trust the process. There is probably information you aren’t aware of.” But she wanted to know. She wanted the details. She was owed the details.

Nope. Some things are confidential. We are not owed any details. We need to trust our leaders.

Now, sometimes our leaders are not trustworthy and if that’s the case, we need to elect different leaders. Bullies use information as a weapon and sometimes they make up false information. I see this way to often.

How do we foster trust? Be trustworthy.

Remember that Church is not about me and mine. It’s about transforming the world for good in the name of Jesus. Sadly, Jesus was killed by his own congregation. Let’s not be those people.

It comes as no surprise to anyone that church people sometimes get it wrong. We ignore people who are in obvious pain. We turn our backs on those who disappoint us or scare us.

When there’s a death, a birth, a surgery, or a fire, most human beings know the importance of reaching out to support those in the throes of life changes.

But people not only need care when they are dealing with illness, grief, and life transitions. Everybody – and I mean EVERYBODY – needs a care team when going through life’s more awkward, shameful, uncomfortable and unsavory experiences. I’m talking about those in our circles dealing with mental health challenges, addiction, false – or true – accusations, job loss, criminal activity, and any number of whispered-about life experiences. Everybody needs a care team.

(Note: not everybody can be on everybody’s care team. A care team must include people who are authentic supporters of the one needing care.)

Years ago, there was a church leader who was arrested for abusing vulnerable people in his place of employment. It was on the local news.

No abuse had happened in the church where he was a member. (It was thoroughly checked out.) But something had definitely happened in his workplace. And it was horrible. He admitted his guilt.

AND in the midst of this difficult time, his congregation was Church in the best possible way. This is what happened next:

The church leader stepped away from church leadership and refrained from participating in congregational life during the investigation. A care team was created for his parents who were also members of the congregation and a care team was created for the accused. In this particular situation, the former church leader was found guilty in a court of law and was incarcerated. And still – even in prison – the former church leader had a care team.

Jesus loved even the people we despise: thieves, heretics, liars, betrayers, and jerks. And when we have been the thief, the heretic, the liar, the betrayer, or the jerk, Jesus still loves us.

I’ve seen time and again that we in the Church abandon those in depths of their greatest agony. Sometimes their pain is undeserved. Sometimes they bring it upon themselves. God calls us to love them all.

So here is a message for my colleagues in Church World – especially for those in powerful positions: please offer care no matter the circumstances. Please do not condemn those who have not been proven guilty of anything. And even if they are guilty, remember that we are The Church for the guilty too.

And one final reminder: Not everybody can be on everybody’s care team. That’s okay. (It’s hard to care for the betrayer if you’re the one who’s been betrayed.) Others can step up.

I was a 33 year old pastor. He was a 32 year old pastor. We had previously served congregations in CT, NJ, and NY. And when we married and had a child and things were crazy as a two-church family, we decided to try out serving in the same congregation in Northern Virginia.

That was a little crazy too.

Clergy couples are like other couples who both have professional lives except this is one of the rare professions that involves taking your children to work and raising them – intimately – with your work partners, namely, your congregation.

One of the few offerings for Clergy Couples to get together and talk, pray, figure out our unique situations is the Called Together Retreat at Massanetta Springs Conference Center every summer.

You thought this post was merely about Clergy Couples, right? It’s actually about Massanetta Springs and how that conference center serves groups that are often ignored in the Church: clergy couples of all denominations.

[NOTE: Did you also know that this conference center houses refugees when they first arrive in the USA? It’s one of the best kept secrets in the Church.]

And then there are also the Middle School Conference, the Handbell Retreat, and the Bible and Church Music Conference – what you would ordinarily find at a church-related conference center.

HH and I met some of the other unique people in the world who know what it’s like to be Married Couples in Professional Ministry, and it was my first experience (but not my last!) at the Massanetta Springs Conference Center. And now I’m asking you to consider something in the name of Clergy Couples everywhere.

This Wednesday, April 17 I will be asking you to consider participating in the GREAT COMMUNITY GIVE of 2024.

Whether you can spare just $20 or $200, I am asking you to consider supporting Couples Called Together as well as the conference center in general as we try to raise $100,000 in one day to benefit Massanetta Springs Retreat Center. I can’t tell you how much I would appreciate it.

Thank you!

Top image from Easter morning 1989 as Co-Pastors with an 8 month old.