“I was trained that this is a lifetime calling.  I feel blessed that it’s worked out for me.” 

Note: Cliff Lyda is my brother in Christ and my friend.  And for the past three years, he and I have partnered in facilitating the 23^rd group of New Pastors in our Synod.  The following wisdom was shared last night with the twelve not-so-new-anymore pastors who gathered for our sixth and final retreat.  Cliff retires from professional ministry in May after 42 years of service. These words are Cliff’s, as noted by me (Jan.)

We all know that there are challenges in the life of ministry.  But here are five struggles that might inform your ministry, especially if you are years or decades away from retirement yourselves:

1. There will be a lifelong struggle with ego.  Our egos are inflated if for no other reason than because “we speak for God.” But it’s more complicated than that:  Too much ego and you’ll be in trouble.  Not enough ego and you’ll be in trouble.  You can’t be too self- assured and – at the same time – you can’t be a doormat.  Ego management is a very serious issue if you want to be successful in ministry.

2. Too many accommodations will damage your personality. Ministry means making constant accommodations:  We accommodate ourselves to the culture of the church.  We accommodate ourselves to the expectations of the people to whom we minister.  We accommodate ourselves to “what a minister is supposed to look like, act like” etc.  We accommodate ourselves to everything from where we take our vacations to the kind of car we want to drive.  (i.e. They can’t be too extravagant or people will talk.) We say yes when we wish we’d said no.  Over time, this constant accommodation will damage our personalities and leave us angry, resentful, and vulnerable, unless we take care of ourselves.

3. There will be many “Blows to the Head.”  Think what happens when football players get blows to the head.  Blows to the head in ministry are all the things that happen to us:  friends leave the church for different reasons.  They might still like us but they don’t like the denomination anymore.  Or they simply want to leave the church and they need to create a reason so that it will make sense.  (i.e. They are angry with us.)  Of course we take it personally.  It hurts.  There are other kinds of blows to the head: Attempts to undermine us.  People who tell you one thing and do another.  People who take swings at us.  And all these experiences will impact our ministry enormously.  It’s like a concussion.  (For days, I’m in a daze.)  We went into the ministry believing that everything and everyone would be nice and good, but – actually – if we don’t learn to become spiritually and politically savvy, we won’t last long.

4. We will develop scar tissue. I did my first church funeral in 1980. I don’t know what the number is, but I’ve lost a lot of people.  Don’t think those scars don’t layer.  Ours is a relational profession and relationships end.  People move.  They die.  Over time the number of losses will affect you and too much scar tissue hardens us.  Dealing creatively with loss – your own loss – is essential.

5. No one warned me that I would become “a heretic” over time. We are meant to progress in our faith and so orthodoxies will get shattered.  We might find that we become better with pagans than with church people.  No longer is God in a box because our faith becomes broader.

Final note from Jan:  Many of our new pastors will not last 42 years for a wide variety of reasons.  But all of us can benefit from the wisdom of one who has done ministry well.  Thanks Cliff.

Authentic and teachable pastors are like gold.

[Note:  I am a white clergywoman.]

Back in the 2012  election, one presidential candidate mentioned in a debate that when he was governor, he sought out female leaders to appoint to his cabinet. When only male applicants had applied, he approached women’s groups who provided “binders full of women” for the governor to consider.  See this for a refresher.

For the record, I also have binders of women.  Actually they are PDFs in a computer file.

I collect the dossiers of exceptional women because we still live in a world in which male pastors are favored.  I have nothing against male pastors.  But I admit before you and God that I have a special place in my heart for clergywomen and specifically for clergywomen of color for the sake of justice.

Last week I came across this article:  Why the Gender Leadership Gap Is So Much Worse for Women of Color.  We know this story –  or we should.  “There are more women working today than ever before (55% of the total global workforce).  Women earn the majority of university degrees according to data from Census reports”

“Yet female leadership numbers remain dismal.  For women of color, this gap is even wider.”

Yep.

So here’s what really struck me:   ” . . . this is not a pipeline problem.” Apparently, in the secular world, there are many women of color in “the pipeline.”  They are well educated and talented; they just don’t get the interviews or the jobs.

I don’t think this is the situation in Church World.  Women – and specifically women of color – still do not get the interviews or the jobs sometimes. But I don’t think we have a huge number of women of color “in the pipeline.”  Please correct me if I’m mistaken.

• How many women of color are under care of our denominations in preparation for ordination (in denominations that ordain women)?
• How many women of color are in the Master of Divinity programs of our seminaries and divinity schools?
• How many of our girls of color are encouraged by their church leaders to consider professional ministry as a vocation?

In 2012 26% of the clergy in my denomination were female.  Of those 7% were women of color.  But here’s the thing:  the African American, Asian American, and Latina clergywomen I know are among the finest pastors in the Church today. They are profoundly gifted.  Why aren’t there more women of color serving our congregations?

In my experience as a person who works with congregations,  some of our racial- ethnic churches will not will not interview women at all and many of our predominantly white churches will not interview women of color.

Although I have hope that this will change in the future, some of us in leadership positions can make a difference now.  There’s more we can do besides collect binders.

• We can invite women of color to informational interviews so that we know them and can encourage them to apply to openings (while also encouraging search committees to consider them)
• We can take note of women of color who are in leadership in their congregations and talk with them about seminary.
• We can become familiar with women of color in our and in other denominations and keep them in mind when asked to suggest names to Pastor Nominating Committees.

Why do I suggest these things?  It’s not to fulfill quotas or give special breaks. It’s to give talented leaders who are often overlooked a fair chance. And frankly, it’s selfish:  we in the Church are missing out when the best leaders are not considered and – many times –  the best leaders are clergywomen of color.

P.S.  We who have ecclesiastical power are called to open the doors for all people who are called by God.  There are many LBGTQ clergy or potential clergy who – also – do not have it easy in the call process.  More about that later.

[T]he knowledge of God and the knowledge of ourselves are bound together by a mutual tie . . .   John Calvin*

Late one night I was called to the hospital to sit with a beloved parishioner.  She was fine, but a frenemy of hers was dying and 1) she didn’t want him to die alone and 2) she didn’t want to be alone with him when he died.

I threw on some jeans and a sweatshirt and met her at his bedside.  He was already on the cusp of eternity and as we sat through the wee hours together K. regaled me with stories about what a terrible person this guy was.  Seriously, he was not a good guy.  But she was a really good person and she didn’t want his life to end without an advocate present.

After several hours, a hospital chaplain came into the room, took at look at the scene before her and assumed that K was the grieving soon-to-be-widow and I must be their grieving daughter.  She introduced herself but she didn’t ask who we were, how we were, and why we were sitting there.  She invited us to pray so we all held hands while she offered up to God some earnest requests that the Spirit would comfort both this devastated woman as she witnessed her husband’s death and their broken daughter as they said good-bye.  The whole time we were praying, K squeezed my hand so hard that I thought she’d break it.

The chaplain left, K and I burst into gales of laughter, and then we stayed through the night until the man passed away.  I always imagined tracking down that chaplain later to share what our experience had been versus what her experience had been.

What the chaplain might have thought:  “I’m so glad I could be there to bring peace and comfort to that grieving mother-daughter team in their hour of darkness as their much-loved husband and father died.“

What K and I thought:  “She had no idea how ridiculous that whole scenario went down.“

One of the most basic spiritual disciplines involves distinguishing between what we think is going on versus what’s really going on.  One of the differences between an effective minister and an ineffective minister (and by “minister” I mean anyone serving others) is genuinely knowing who we are and how we come across to others.  As I work with people preparing for professional ministry, being authentic and knowing ourselves is everything.

*From The Institutes of the Christian Religion, 1.1.2-3

Image source.

The Bible is an equal opportunity offender.  We can find verses to support our political views.  And we can find verses to support the opposite of our political views.

So what about the pastor who is “never political” or the pastor who “never makes waves“?  Some parishioners seek this kind of pastor.  Nobody gets offended.  Nobody feels uncomfortable.  I’ve heard church people boast that “nobody knows where our pastor stands on anything” as if that’s a good thing.

Note what I’m not saying here:

• I’m not saying that preachers should tell people how to vote.
• I’m not saying that God is a Democrat or a Republican.  (Or a Libertarian or a Whig or a . . .)
• I’m not saying that we preachers should ever presume that we know the full mind of God.

I’m saying that:

• Jesus said a lot about money (and his words convict us all)
• Jesus was shockingly provocative about how we are supposed to treat our enemies, the untouchables, the powerless.
• Jesus was a counter intuitive leader (e.g. the first shall be last)
• Jesus was killed because he preached radical love to the point of being charged with trying to overturn the powers.

I’m saying that if we aren’t preaching about the evils of racism, idolatry, misogyny, greed, and inhospitality then we are failing to convey the way of Jesus. It will make some of our people uncomfortable but God calls us to notice when our brothers and sisters are hurting.

Again, the Bible is an equal opportunity offender.  Some of us need to be comforted.  Some of us need to be unsettled.  All of us need more than entertainment or pats on the head from our spiritual leaders.

We who believe Jesus rose up from death are called to help others rise up. Where do we stand on this?  Where are our pastors on this?

My Dad awakened us – especially on Easter morning  – with a clear tenor voice singing a song I thought he’d made up.  It was a melding of theological and familial lyrics.  A family favorite along with “Is Everybody Happy?” and “Doodle Bug, Doodle Bug Come Get Your Butter Bread.”

Imagine my shock to be sitting in the preacher’s chair on Easter morning 1984 to hear the choir of my first parish sing it as the opening anthem.  I was almost too stunned to lead worship.

It was one of many moments when I would realize that – in fact – my family and I were not the center of the universe.

• Not everybody played Monopoly by the rules we played it.
• Not everybody made lasagna the way Mom made it.
• Not everybody got summer vacations at the beach.
• Not everybody was Christian (or even believed in God) aka The-Great-Debate-Dad-had-on-a-Train-in-the-UK-with-a-Young- Atheist-in-the-Early-1980s.
• Not everybody voted.
• Not everybody went to college.
• Not every successful person was American.  (Embarrassing but true: it was news to me when I realized that the Rolling Stones were from the UK.)
• Not everybody went to the dentist.
• Not everybody had air conditioning.
• Not everybody had a passport.

And my Dad didn’t write “Up From the Grave He Arose.”  Major shock.

So part of my resurrection discipline is to continue this process of opening my eyes to the world and acknowledging how little I know about it.  During Lent, I met White Christians who still struggle to get the Confederate flag out of their sanctuaries, Presbyterian sisters and brothers whose church property includes a slave cemetery, other Presbyterians trying to heal deep and horrible wounds in Jasper, TX.  I’ve watched my home state decide to restrict the rights of LGBTQ citizens.

Resurrection is about Jesus rising from the grave.  It’s also about us reaching out to other children of God so that they might rise up to live with the dignity and respect that Jesus never got.  Jesus died for them, as well as for me and mine.

Christ is risen indeed.

I had a friend who believed that her feet and everyone’s feet were ugly.  We vacationed many times at the beach and she never once went barefoot in the sand. She was adamantly opposed to flip flops and the toe peep shoe movement.

Only cancer moved her to show her feet in the hospital because she just didn’t care any more.  She was going to meet the Maker of her feet soon and it would be okay.

I’m curious about how many people either washed feet or allowed someone to wash their feet last night.  (Please share.)

Was the story about Jesus washing the disciples’ feet read?  Were children’s feet washed?  Did adults with freshly manicured feet allow the pastors to touch them?  Most of us feel queasy about having a stranger – or even a friend – wash our feet even if we have prettied them up.  Foot washing seems especially frowned upon in neat and tidy Protestant congregations.

How do we come clean on Good Friday and admit our complicity in evil and darkness if we were not able to reveal our own feet on Thursday?  The truth is that many of us have gnarly, bony, callused, lumpy, fungus afflicted, cracked and nasty feet.  Some of us are ashamed of our feet.  We don’t want anyone – anyone – to see them.

Good Friday is the day when we remember that the human Jesus died a hideous, ugly, shameful, terrifying death because of fear and injustice by powerful people. We are complicit in the world’s evil.  And it’s something we must confess.

My heart hurts as – even on Holy Week – my brothers and sisters in Christ (i.e. people who claim to follow Jesus) have stomped on people:  LGBTQ people. Muslim people.  Black and brown people.

We need to wash each other’s feet and allow God to wash away the ignorance and evil in each of us.  Me included.

Peter said to Jesus, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.”Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!”

I often write about what we need to change in the church.  Yes, we get it wrong sometimes, but sometimes we get it right.  In my current work, I observe some lovely things that congregations have done for their pastors.  Here are some favorites:

• A personnel committee member asked me “if it would be okay” to give their pastor a surprise $5000 bonus.  That would be a big yes. Even better:  add it to her continuing education budget so that she won’t have to pay taxes on it and then encourage her to take a class in Paris.
• A personnel committee asked me if I might be on a conference call with all of them to share ways they can support their new pastor.  (You people are champions.)
• A congregation who couldn’t afford a raise for their pastor added an additional week of paid vacation.
• After a pastor’s mother passed away, the elders arranged for her and her family to go to a church family’s vacation home for an extra week of vacation.
• A church that knows its pastor loves shoes gave her a gift certificate to a shoe factory outlet in the town where she was taking parishioners on a mission trip.
• The parents of a young adult couple came to worship from out of town for the baptism of their grandchild and – after they returned home – they wrote a heartfelt letter to the pastor thanking him for being such a great spiritual leader for their “kids.”

It’s a very hectic week for most of our pastors.  Show them some love.

[Note:  Thanks SB]

(The Church) does not identify limited progress with the kingdom of God on earth . . . 

My denomination is 91% white, which is an admission that will make some of my brothers and sisters feeling pretty good about ourselves (“People of color make up 9% of our denomination!“) and others of my brothers and sisters to be embarrassed that – in a nation in which white folks will be in the minority in a mere four years – our congregations do not look much like our country.  Chances are – however – that we who are white don’t think about it much.

This Holy Week – as we move through the paralyzing physical and spiritual pain of Jesus into resurrection – is the perfect time to consider our own paralysis before we celebrate that Christ is risen.

• Are we overwhelmed with the notion of connecting with our neighbors – especially if they don’t look like us?
• Are we anesthetized to the evils of systemic racism?
• Do we congratulate ourselves when a person of color or two joins our church as if this proves we are not racist?

Yesterday and every day, I was/am struck by the need for deep story sharing. Larissa Kwong Abazia brilliantly addresses this here.  And then, shortly after reading Larissa’s article, I saw this article about a white police officer who was shot and killed by a 17 year old black man in South Carolina who then turned the gun on himself.  This is a familiar story that begs for details. Yes, a young officer is dead which is unspeakably heinous.  And yet it is also heinous that a black teenager would  run when two police officers tried to stop him “for a field interview” in the Nicholtown neighborhood in Greenville, SC.  He is identified as “confirmed and self-described gang member” in a neighborhood with a high crime rate in a lovely southern city.  The layer of issues here are complicated and difficult.

Imagine caring enough about the layers to uncover the stories behind these stories.  We seek them out not so that we can congratulate ourselves for reaching out.  We seek them out because we follow One whose story is not what it seems at first look.

Some saw Jesus as a rabble-rouser set on turning over the powers.  Some saw him as their rabbi.  Some were ashamed of him.  By Friday nobody was lining up to claim they knew him.  But the truth is that Jesus was the embodiment of love.

Call me crazy, but I believe that when we listen to each other’s stories we will find the same needs and hopes.  We want to be respected.  We want to be loved.

Loving The Other is not something to congratulate ourselves for doing.  It’s our life’s purpose in the name of Jesus (who was brown, by the way.)

The quote at the top is from the PCUSA’s Confession of 1967, 9.55.  The image is by Nyle Fort.

It’s Holy Week and we remember what God was willing to do to crack
open the cosmic reality that we are loved by our Creator to the death.

[What our clergy, educators, and musicians are willing to do this week is another story for another post.  Think: long hours and family sacrifices.  For those of us for whom spring break is always Holy Week, there will be no trip to Disney World.]

For many churches who wring their hands over The Future Of Their Congregations, there is more fear than faith, more over-functioning than equipping others, more self-limitation than experimentation.

What would you – stressed out church person – be willing to do for your church?  If it meant that your congregation would surely thrive . . .

• Would you, Pastor, be willing to step aside/retire early?
• Would you give up control of the church check book or the files or the coffee pots or the flower vases or the education program?
• Would you allow the endowments to be used to invest in the future (as opposed to using it to balance the budget)?
• Would you risk calling a pastor who doesn’t look like you?
• Would you be willing to open the doors to strangers who need to be fed/tutored/counseled/taught?
• Would you be willing to give a new generation a chance?

This is the perfect week to consider what we would be willing to do for the sake of the Gospel.  It’s not about propping up the church as an institution.  It’s about being the church in a way that shows the world what God’s love looks like.

Sometimes we might be the rock blocking the tomb.  Or we could be the one to roll it out of the way to help resurrection happen.