One of the questions bouncing around my head lately as I try and figure out what the future looks like has to do with my identity as a “pastor.” Is a pastor really a pastor without a church to pastor? Is a minister without a place to minister really a minister at all? If a tree falls in a woods and no one is there to hear it… oh, sorry.
Really, this is something I’ve been mulling over for several years now. I’ve wondered if the whole idea that some people are called and set aside for this special, weird assignment of being a 40-50/hour a week paid staff person in a local church is as much a biblical construct as it is one born of convenience and tradition. That’s not to say it’s wrong, just that maybe it’s not grounded in scripture.
As someone who has had the great privilege of having his livelihood provided for by the generosity and sacrifice of people in local churches, it may sound weird to say, but allow me to suggest that I am no more called than you are. We are ALL called to follow Jesus and live our lives as fully, radically devoted followers of Christ, and I think it’s tragic that we reserve that language of call for the “professionals” in “full-time ministry.” It seems to me that our work (whatever that happens to be), our kids sports leagues and school activities, and our every day comings and goings are to be our full-time ministry, done for the glory of God and the growth of the Kingdom. Certainly God calls individuals to do certain things, but that’s just it. God calls more than just some of us; he calls all of us, and he calls all of us to ministry full-time.
It’s at least partially because of that conviction that I’ve never been much for having some ministry-related title affixed to my name. I get some crazy looks when I tell people this, but I have never liked for people to call me Reverend Bunting or Pastor Geoff or anything of the sort. I have been and will always be just Geoff, no title needed. My identity is follower of Jesus. My occupation is pastor… or was… or… I don’t know. But my point is, we don’t typically go around referring to everyone else by their occupation. “Hey there, Banker Bob! How’s it going, Construction Worker Carl? Nice day, isn’t it, Wal-Mart Greeter Wilma? How’s life, Unemployed… Uma?” And even as I’m preaching or teaching or doing whatever it is that pastors do, I’m likely no more serving God out of the calling he’s given me than many of the other people I see on Sunday mornings; it may just look different. Up until a month ago I have been serving as a pastor. That is certainly a part of who I am. But there is more that identifies me than the fact that I draw a paycheck from a church… especially since I no longer draw a paycheck from a church… or any place else. Minor detail.
As I’ve been thinking and praying and reading over the past few weeks I’ve been realizing that sometimes I get so caught up in what God has called me to DO (whatever that might just happen to be) that I forget who he has called me to BE. Feel free to disagree, but my identity has never been as a pastor, a student, a whatever. For the past 14 years of my life I have been a follower of Jesus first and foremost. That is my identity. That is who I am. Everything else is secondary.
So whatever I do for a career and however I draw a paycheck, I will be serving in ministry, and I will be serving in a church; I may just not be drawing a paycheck from a career of serving in a church. And if that is what God leads me to do, I’m okay with that. Because regardless of what I do, my identity is as a Christian, a follower of Jesus Christ. And beyond that, no title is needed.
P.S. I've included links here and here to a couple of blog posts that really hit home with me about this same issue.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Thursday, March 03, 2011
Did you pray about it?
That’s a fair question to ask a follower of Christ whenever he or she is facing a tough decision, isn’t it? I think so. In fact, it may be a question we don’t ask enough. After all, if we are struggling to know what to do or what to choose or which way to go, why wouldn’t we want to seek help from the author of all wisdom and knowledge who loves us and is the source of our purpose and direction? Seriously. And the truth is, a lot of times we just don’t do that? So if as we are on the threshold of some major, life-changing decision and seeking the wise counsel of a trusted friend, a gentle reminder to humbly and honestly seek God with every last bit of ourselves like the fate of the world depends on it may be the best advice a person can give.
But most of the time when somebody has asked me that question, it hasn’t been pre-decision as a way of guiding me to find my answer from the all-knowing God of the universe. It has been post-decision as a way of saying, “What they heck are you thinking?” Have you ever had that happen?
Now, granted, the question itself isn’t unreasonable, especially when it’s asked to someone who generally desires to follow Jesus. But most of the time when I’m asked that question, especially post-decision, it’s not really a question at all; it’s a statement of disapproval. It’s a roundabout way of saying, “I wouldn’t have done it that way. I don’t approve. And I think you’re an idiot.” But when it’s couched in that oh-so-spiritual-sounding phrase, the implication is, “There is NO WAY you’ve actually prayed about this because I really don’t believe God would lead you in that direction. I haven’t actually prayed about it myself, but we’re talking about you here.”
Those of you who know me well know that I tend to be a little… unconventional sometimes. I’m not much for conformity and I really don’t care too much if people think I’ve lost my mind, so I’ve heard THE QUESTION and others like it more than a few times from semi-well-intentioned people. What I’m learning more and more all the time, though, is how much of an unconventional nonconformist Jesus was, at least when compared to the prevailing ideas about what was normal in the Near East in those days. (And even more so when compared to the prevailing ideas about what is normal in the West in these days.) Not to compare myself to Jesus, because that would be, well… not much of a comparison at all, like dividing the ratio of penguins to jazz by the square root of pink; it just doesn’t compute, but seeing how misunderstood (and even hated) Jesus was by the religious people who you would think would be in his corner gives me a little hope that just maybe I’m on the right path at least part of the time. Because one guaranteed way to be misunderstood by both religious and irreligious people alike is to forsake “normal” life for a life of radical faith and obedience to Christ. And that is the life I desperately want to live.
So next time you see me after I’ve done something stupid, or when I’m in the process doing something stupid, or when I’m about to do something stupid, or when I’m thinking about doing something stupid…so pretty much just whenever you see me next…I give you permission to question me about it. Chances are, I may have done/be in the process of doing/be about to do/be thinking about doing something completely idiotic that every single person on the planet could look at and think, “What an idiot! What’s he thinking!?!” But maybe, just maybe, I’ll be following Jesus.
But most of the time when somebody has asked me that question, it hasn’t been pre-decision as a way of guiding me to find my answer from the all-knowing God of the universe. It has been post-decision as a way of saying, “What they heck are you thinking?” Have you ever had that happen?
Now, granted, the question itself isn’t unreasonable, especially when it’s asked to someone who generally desires to follow Jesus. But most of the time when I’m asked that question, especially post-decision, it’s not really a question at all; it’s a statement of disapproval. It’s a roundabout way of saying, “I wouldn’t have done it that way. I don’t approve. And I think you’re an idiot.” But when it’s couched in that oh-so-spiritual-sounding phrase, the implication is, “There is NO WAY you’ve actually prayed about this because I really don’t believe God would lead you in that direction. I haven’t actually prayed about it myself, but we’re talking about you here.”
Those of you who know me well know that I tend to be a little… unconventional sometimes. I’m not much for conformity and I really don’t care too much if people think I’ve lost my mind, so I’ve heard THE QUESTION and others like it more than a few times from semi-well-intentioned people. What I’m learning more and more all the time, though, is how much of an unconventional nonconformist Jesus was, at least when compared to the prevailing ideas about what was normal in the Near East in those days. (And even more so when compared to the prevailing ideas about what is normal in the West in these days.) Not to compare myself to Jesus, because that would be, well… not much of a comparison at all, like dividing the ratio of penguins to jazz by the square root of pink; it just doesn’t compute, but seeing how misunderstood (and even hated) Jesus was by the religious people who you would think would be in his corner gives me a little hope that just maybe I’m on the right path at least part of the time. Because one guaranteed way to be misunderstood by both religious and irreligious people alike is to forsake “normal” life for a life of radical faith and obedience to Christ. And that is the life I desperately want to live.
So next time you see me after I’ve done something stupid, or when I’m in the process doing something stupid, or when I’m about to do something stupid, or when I’m thinking about doing something stupid…so pretty much just whenever you see me next…I give you permission to question me about it. Chances are, I may have done/be in the process of doing/be about to do/be thinking about doing something completely idiotic that every single person on the planet could look at and think, “What an idiot! What’s he thinking!?!” But maybe, just maybe, I’ll be following Jesus.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Can you hear me now?
I hate one-sided conversations. Maybe it’s just me, but there is very little more annoying than having to feign interest by plastering on a half-hearted smile and semi-engaged stare-into-nothingness while your “conversation” partner is experiencing diarrhea of the mouth. We’ve all been there, and it’s not fun.
But you know what is equally gut-wrenching?
Those times when the person across the table just sits there in silence, barely saying a word, where your best efforts fail to draw out even a three syllable mumble. You feel like you’re talking to a brick wall, or a tree, or a tree surrounded by a brick wall. I can be awkward and uncomfortable, or frustrating, or just bang-your-head-against-a-wall-to-add-some-excitement DULL. My guess is we’ve all been there before, too.
So what do you do when the silent person sitting across the table from you is none other than God himself? Hmm. That sounded like a good question, but now that I’ve asked it the answer seems obvious: you wait. He is God after all, and it’s not like you or I have a whole lot of leverage to pressure him into a response. But seriously, that’s what I’ve been struggling with for the past few weeks. If you’ve read some of my recent posts you know that for several months I felt a very clear sense of God leading me to take a huge step of faith away from the church I love (that also just happened to be my source of income) without having any clue whatsoever what the next step was. Was it scary? Sure! Like walking barefoot through a well-used Bessy Bingo playing field in the dark. But it was also exciting because I was certain that God was calling me to do it and that he would show me the next step. That was January 31.
The next day (naturally) was February 1. And everything changed. Well, ok, at least one thing changed.
I don’t know if Verizon dropped my call or what the deal is, but it has seemed that God has been rather silent since then. For illustration purposes, let me show you a comparison.
January 31 = Crystal clear connection.
February 1 = Silence. Nothing. Nada. Nessuno.
So as I’m trying to plan for the future, even the short-term future, it’s tough because not only do I not feel especially called to do anything in particular, I also don’t feel especially called to do nothing. So it sort of feels like trying to swim through a giant lake of tapioca pudding… minus the inability to breath tapioca.
And I’d be lying it I said it wasn’t testing me faith a little. I have found myself thinking, “God, really? What the heck. All of that build-up for this? Talk about anticlimactic! Will you just give me some direction already?” And as I’ve taken a step back, I’ve pictured God saying, “Really, that’s all you’ve got? Three weeks and you’re already flaming out?”
And that got me thinking about the Israelites. After centuries of praying for freedom, God answered their prayers and they launched out of captivity in Egypt like a jet-propelled hippo… only to come plummeting back down to earth as doubt and impatience and a lack of trust caused them to turn their backs on God and take matters into their own hands. Thplat! (That’s my attempt at describing what happens when a previously jet-propelled hippo hits the ground. It’s a combination of “thud” and “splat.”) If you remember their plight, a two year journey to the amazing Promised Land that God had been preparing for them became a forty year saga in which an entire generation had to die out before the promise became a reality. It was an ugly scene… not unlike an exploding hippo.
Think of what their lack of trust cost them. In a word: everything! As I’ve been pondering this I’ve started thinking that maybe the greatest test of faith isn’t obeying God when the path is clear and the call is certain and you feel inseparably close to him, but maybe it’s trusting God and believing God when the path ahead isn’t clear and the call isn’t certain and it seems like God is silent and distant. Maybe the real proof of a strong faith is being willing to continue grappling for answers and seeking God in the face of uncertainty, in the midst of impatience, and in the presence of doubt, when the sum total of what we have seen and experienced and know carries us through the rough patches, and the depth of our faith holds strong through the ebb and flow of our feelings and emotions.
Interestingly enough, it's been during the most challenging and even spiritually dead-feeling times in my life that I have grown the most. I'm not sure why that is, but it's true for me. More on that another time, though.
PS. Watch out for falling hippos.
But you know what is equally gut-wrenching?
Those times when the person across the table just sits there in silence, barely saying a word, where your best efforts fail to draw out even a three syllable mumble. You feel like you’re talking to a brick wall, or a tree, or a tree surrounded by a brick wall. I can be awkward and uncomfortable, or frustrating, or just bang-your-head-against-a-wall-to-add-some-excitement DULL. My guess is we’ve all been there before, too.
So what do you do when the silent person sitting across the table from you is none other than God himself? Hmm. That sounded like a good question, but now that I’ve asked it the answer seems obvious: you wait. He is God after all, and it’s not like you or I have a whole lot of leverage to pressure him into a response. But seriously, that’s what I’ve been struggling with for the past few weeks. If you’ve read some of my recent posts you know that for several months I felt a very clear sense of God leading me to take a huge step of faith away from the church I love (that also just happened to be my source of income) without having any clue whatsoever what the next step was. Was it scary? Sure! Like walking barefoot through a well-used Bessy Bingo playing field in the dark. But it was also exciting because I was certain that God was calling me to do it and that he would show me the next step. That was January 31.
The next day (naturally) was February 1. And everything changed. Well, ok, at least one thing changed.
I don’t know if Verizon dropped my call or what the deal is, but it has seemed that God has been rather silent since then. For illustration purposes, let me show you a comparison.
January 31 = Crystal clear connection.
February 1 = Silence. Nothing. Nada. Nessuno.
So as I’m trying to plan for the future, even the short-term future, it’s tough because not only do I not feel especially called to do anything in particular, I also don’t feel especially called to do nothing. So it sort of feels like trying to swim through a giant lake of tapioca pudding… minus the inability to breath tapioca.
And I’d be lying it I said it wasn’t testing me faith a little. I have found myself thinking, “God, really? What the heck. All of that build-up for this? Talk about anticlimactic! Will you just give me some direction already?” And as I’ve taken a step back, I’ve pictured God saying, “Really, that’s all you’ve got? Three weeks and you’re already flaming out?”
And that got me thinking about the Israelites. After centuries of praying for freedom, God answered their prayers and they launched out of captivity in Egypt like a jet-propelled hippo… only to come plummeting back down to earth as doubt and impatience and a lack of trust caused them to turn their backs on God and take matters into their own hands. Thplat! (That’s my attempt at describing what happens when a previously jet-propelled hippo hits the ground. It’s a combination of “thud” and “splat.”) If you remember their plight, a two year journey to the amazing Promised Land that God had been preparing for them became a forty year saga in which an entire generation had to die out before the promise became a reality. It was an ugly scene… not unlike an exploding hippo.
Think of what their lack of trust cost them. In a word: everything! As I’ve been pondering this I’ve started thinking that maybe the greatest test of faith isn’t obeying God when the path is clear and the call is certain and you feel inseparably close to him, but maybe it’s trusting God and believing God when the path ahead isn’t clear and the call isn’t certain and it seems like God is silent and distant. Maybe the real proof of a strong faith is being willing to continue grappling for answers and seeking God in the face of uncertainty, in the midst of impatience, and in the presence of doubt, when the sum total of what we have seen and experienced and know carries us through the rough patches, and the depth of our faith holds strong through the ebb and flow of our feelings and emotions.
Interestingly enough, it's been during the most challenging and even spiritually dead-feeling times in my life that I have grown the most. I'm not sure why that is, but it's true for me. More on that another time, though.
PS. Watch out for falling hippos.
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