Subversive pastors...

Eugene Peterson writes in The Contemplative Pastor:  "There are not many hours in any day when I am not faced with the struggle of faith in someone or another, the deep, central eternal energies that make the difference between a life lived to the glory of God and a life wasted in self-indulgence or trivialized in diversions... For me, that is what it means to be a pastor: to be in touch the the Lord's word and presence, and to be ready to speak and act out of the Word and presence in whatever I am doing - while leading you in worship, teaching Scripture, talking and praying with you individually, meeting with you in groups as we order our common life, writing poems or articles or books."

I resonate with this challenge in the most profound way.  I have also discovered another of Peterson's truths (first articulated by Jesus) that this ministry is fundamentally subversive.  I have not met many people who have said to me:  my life is empty I am ready for a radical change - or - I know I have wasted most of my days so what can I do to take me in a different direction?  Right?  Most of the time people carp about minor changes I make to the morning liturgy or an inclusive language tweak to the Lord's Prayer.  Or they complain that their lives are so burdened and pained that no one can understand them - especially me.  Sometimes they tell me:  I'm too busy to deal with my faith in an overt way - I have a demanding job, demanding children, demanding schedules - so can't you just make it simple?  And sometimes - rarely but sometimes - some body will be honest enough to say something like:  you know, mostly I am just bored and sick and tired.

That is to say, very few people start off by saying they are empty - or in a spiritual rut - or confused - or hurt or angry with the way their life is turning out and eager for God's help.  In fact, they almost never put it in terms of faith.  Rather, it is someone else's fault - or the unfairness of circumstances beyond their control - or some cosmic mystery.  Now I've known boredom - and sloth and lust and all the other deadly sins, too - and I've done my share of blaming be it my parents or society or capitalism or a broken church.  And I think there is a place for venting and pissing and moaning.  A former monk used to tell me, "Look, that's why the Lord invented happy hour!"  We all need to cut loose from time to time and just give shape and form to what we are feeling.

But there comes a point in time when a person of maturity - and faith - needs to learn what her/his feelings are telling them lest we keep on doing the same old same old and expecting different results.  Three of the most common traps I have encountered in my 30+ years of ministry might be summarized like this:

+ Rather than learn to go with the flow and hear what the Spirit of the Lord is saying to the church at any given moment in time - and make the necessary changes - we blame the culture.  We resent the fact that 1950 has come and gone and believe that if we simply did church - and family - and music - and government and everything else the way they were done in the "good ole days" everything would be better.  In the 12 step movement this is known as insanity because... if you always do what you've always done, then you'll always get what you've always got.  Holding on to the past and cursing the movement of time is one way some of us avoid our fears.  Rather than confess the terror of living in times when life changes so fast that no one knows what end is up - and reaching out to God in trust - we blame the world. Resentment becomes a type of negative spirituality and there is nothing redemptive, healing or useful about it.  Look, the world has always been the world, and it is always going to be the world, so why insist on so much blame?

+ Another way to avoid getting honest with God and self is to become addicted to own pain.  Not only do these folk sing, "nobody knows the troubles I've seen..." but they refuse to believe that Jesus has shared anything like their brokenness.  In this world, our pain is unique and one of a kind - even though religious people of wisdom have been exploring human tragedy for at least 4 thousand years - and have learned something about how our wounds can also become our teacher.  But no, when we're in this trap - adolescents in Peterson's jargon - we are certain that no one else has ever even heard of what we have experienced.  So, not only are we closed to any suggestions that the wisdom of the past might be useful, but we insist on revisiting our anguish until it is hard to know whether we are capable of letting go.  I trust by faith - and experience in therapy and 12 steps groups - that people born into the most ugly realities can also become children of God's light and joy, but it doesn't happen so long as we stay addicted to our agony and believe we are unique.

+ And third there is busyness - the contemporary curse that keeps us exhausted and distracted - while believing we are doing something of worth for our family, ourselves or the common good.  For the past 12 years, whenever people say to me, "Look, I know you are really busy..." I stop them and reply, "No, not really.  I have time to talk and listen..."  Most people don't believe me.  Busyness has become a badge of value.  Now, I don't have much patience for people who want to jerk my chain or waste my time. But I do have all the time in the world to listen and pray and go deeper.  So I insist that worship not be busy - that our meetings not be busy - that every week we try to practice taking a little time out to remind ourselves that we are God's beloved beyond ANYTHING we do.  And still some people resist - I know I did for decades - but it is true.

Well, these three ways of avoiding getting honest with ourselves and God are impossible to challenge head-on.  That's why Peterson (following the model of Jesus) insists on being subversive.  Our ministry is to quietly and patiently and consistently show the difference between the kingdom of self and the kingdom of God.  Over time I've come to use a lot of humor - some story telling - and tons of music to make this point over and over again.  And little by little, like a mustard seed some get it.  Not most and never all at once, but "peu en peu" as the French say.  Peterson writes:

Jesus was a master at subversion. Until the very end, everyone - including the disciples - called him Rabbi. Rabbis were important, but they didn't make things happen. On the occasions when suspicions were aroused that there might be more to him than that title accounted for, Jesus tried to keep it quiet - tell no one he said.  He favorite form of speech was the parable, a subversive style. Parable sound absolutely ordinary: casual stories about soil and seeds, meals and coins and sheep, bandits and victims, farmers and merchants. And they are wholly secular: of his forty or so parables recorded in the Gospels, only one has its setting in a church and only a couple mention the name of God... Jesus continually threw odd stories down alongside ordinary lives (para = alongside, bole = thrown) and then walked away without explanation or altar call... Parables aren't illustrations that make things easier; they make things harder by requiring the exercise of our imaginations, which if we aren't careful becomes the exercise of our faith.

Until I learned how to be a subversive pastor, I was approaching burn out.  I tried too hard - I pushed too hard - I demanded results rather than offer an invitation.  I believed I had to do all the work rather than trust God's Spirit.  And sometimes I still slip into my old sins and get cranky and resentful.  That's when it is time to take a break - go for a walk in the woods - or find a club with a hot jazz combo and just chill.  And here's the thing:  the more I chill - the more I trust God's subversive Spirit - the better things become.  I'm still not all that good at it but today I give thanks that I can rest and trust that God is God.