Practicing Resurrection - part three

The wisdom of Eugene Peterson's to pastors - your work is to be unbusy, subversive and apocalyptic - has been on my mind of late as another week of ministry comes to a close and I settle into my Sabbath. In some ways, this past week has been full to overflowing - blizzards and ice storms, a variety of complicated pastoral encounters involving pain, loss, betrayal and death - but also quite ordinary, too. And here is where the old master's advice is golden:

+ A pastor is to remain unbusy. Easier said than done, to be sure, but as one old salt told me, "Look, you already have all the time there is... so how are you going to enter it? That is something only you can decide!" What she was telling me is exactly what Peterson preaches to young - and not so young - pastors: treat you appointment book (ok, I am dating myself and should add smart phone and/or blackberry) as a sacred prayer book. Do NOT over schedule yourself. Do NOT let guilt or sloth guide your decisions. Do NOT let someone else's stupidity or addictions run your life. And do NOT forget to always leave space in every day for surprises, prayer and reflection.

Yesterday, for example, could have been a disaster because I almost overbooked myself and did not leave time for surprises: The morning began with tea with a beloved colleague, a quick trip to the medical lab for blood work for my physical and then an hour of quiet reflection. By 10:30 am I was interacting with my staff about our up-coming annual meeting, then visiting and praying with a person about some very serious changes in their health that could be devastating before receiving the news that one of our captain's of industry needed to place a cherished spouse into nursing home care because of dementia.

An old and sweet friend and I shared a Facebook conversation about his anguish over the cruel political charade of the Republicans over health care and then it was back to sorting out a few other administrative details for the annual meeting. There were a variety of emails to schedule future appointments, phone calls from clergy in the area about how best to handle the wounds of a colleague and a later afternoon pastoral visit to a dear man just a week after we buried his darling wife. As the sun set (and that happens about 4 o'clock in these parts) I still needed to prayerfully talk through some thorny problems with a few regional clergy re: counseling and renewal.

Twice in the flow of all of these events I thought, "Thank God I built some time into the start of this day for quiet and reflection or else I wouldn't know which end was up." Now, let's be honest, pastoral work is NOT heavy lifting of the ordinary variety and I am very, very grateful for my calling. I wouldn't last two days moving furniture or working on a factory floor.

Nevertheless, it is clear that without taking hold of my time - and daily calendar - it would be very easy to feel crazy and overwhelmed. and reactive. Most days are not nearly so full or jumbled - and that is mostly by design - but they are always an "emotional roller coaster" as my old mentor, Ray Swartzback, used to say. And only by working at staying unbusy can I be present to the challenges.

+ A pastor must always be subversive, too. Not in the political sense of the word, but rather like Jesus teaching through parables. Or Rumi spinning out spiritual insight through sensuality and self-deprecating humor. Peterson puts it like this: “I am undermining the kingdom of self and establishing the kingdom of God. I am being subversive.” That is, I am going beyond the obvious, tenderly inviting the grace of God to take root in our often distracted and addicted souls, inviting and luring others into this journey, too often without their knowledge.

The point is patience in our subversive work - and trust. Like water upon a stone, the subversive grace of God changes hearts and minds - and in this, society too - in ways that traditional social activists or entrepreneurs cannot grasp. They want results NOW - they are practical - utilitarian - often ranting about the "bottom line." But not so with the subversive pastor who trusts that small and often invisible acts of love are longer lasting than most public and political demonstrations (not that they don't have their place.) What's more, the subversive pastor understands that she/he need not do everything: God has given gifts to everyone. The challenge is to encourage and strengthen individuals to share their gifts for the common good. This, too, is rarely appreciated marking the subversive nature of ministry as foolishness to the wise and a scandal to the bottom liners.

+ And then there is a commitment to living in an apocalyptic way. Dr. King and Barrack Obama speak of the "fierce urgency of now." God is present - God is calling - are we going to respond as God's people? Or are we going to distract and addict ourselves to other gods - idols - that look important, but do not bear the fruits of repentance? Peterson writes:

People are not comfortable with God in their lives. They prefer something less awesome and more informal. Something, in fact, like the (traditional) pastor. Reassuring, accessible, easygoing. People would rather talk to the pastor than to God…

So (often) pastors, instead of practicing prayer, which brings people into the presence of God, enter into the practice of messiah: we will do the work of God for God, fix people up, tell them what to do, conspire in finding the shortcuts by which the long journey to the Cross can be bypassed since we all have such crowded schedules right now. People love us when we do this. It is flattering to be put in the place of God. It feels wonderful to be treated in the godlike way. And it is work that we are generally quite good at.

A sense of apocalypse (urgency) blows the whistle on such messianic pastoring. The vastness of the heavenly invasion, the urgency of the faith decision, the danger of the impinging culture—with these pouring into our consciousness accompanied by thunder and lightning, we cannot stand around on the street corners of Sunday morning filling the time with pretentious small talk on how bad the world is and how wonderful this new stewardship campaign is going to be. If we have even an inkling of apocalypse, it will be impossible to act like the jaunty foreman of a home-improvement work crew that is going to re-landscape moral (or immoral) garden spots. We must pray. The world has been invaded by God and it is with God we have to do.

We are NOT called to waste God's time. We are NOT called to distract our congregations with meaningless busy work that sounds holy but is all empty calories. No, we are called into the fierce urgency of now with tenderness and patience - trusting all the while that God is in charge and we are not.

Maybe that is one of the reasons I am loving winter this year in the Berkshires: we have had a ton of snow - another 4 inches last night - making about 25 inches on the ground already. More is headed our way on Tuesday. Snow slows us all down. It takes me 45 minutes to get our drive way cleared. We've had a few snow days, too where all that you could do was sip hot tea and wait. I cleared the drive way after Sabbath breakfast and let the week's events rumble around my head for a bit - then I gave thanks to God for them all - and left them in the Lord's care.

Today is Sabbath - time for rest and refreshment and dinner with the kids down in Great Barrington this evening - it is time for practicing resurrection.

credits: thanks to Dianne De Mott for the great pix of various places around our house or from some of the extended walks into the woods.