Running on Empty

Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
I don't know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels
I look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through
Looking into their eyes I see them running too
                                    --Jackson Browne, "Running on Empty"

A week ago today was the one-year anniversary of the day I was Installed as Pastor of St. Peter Lutheran Church in Campbell Hill, Illinois.  That means I've been back in parish ministry for a few days over a year now. In many ways, this has been the best year of my life. After over four and-a-half years in the "purgatory" of CRM status, the Lord has brought me to this place and these people to let me serve and love them and to be served and loved by them. The reception my family has received here has been nothing short of familial, which, especially after how Faith was received elsewhere, has been a balm. I'm serving a loving and faithful congregation with a Board of Elders who is supportive and encouraging; and as long as I faithfully preach and teach administer the sacraments, visit the sick and shut-in, and keep the parsonage lawn, things are quiet and peaceful. If I were inclined to complain--and y'all know I am capable of such things--I'd have very little to complain about, other than the cows sometimes being too loud across the alley from the parsonage. But we love "our" cows, especially the white one who stands alone in the herd.

All that being said, I will admit to a certain fatigue. It's been a hectic year. We moved our family and belongings, with me nearly breaking my neck in the process. (And yes, I still have pain and tingling and numbness in my left arm.) To justify the faith placed in me by the St. Peter congregation, I've thrown myself into this Call with a vengeance. But I've been a little stupid about it. I've gotten out of the practice of taking my regular day off, and I know better than that. I learned that lesson in North Dakota when I didn't take a day off between Christmas and Easter during my first year in parish ministry. After over four years away from full-time parish ministry, I wanted to make sure I didn't miss anything. I wanted to cover all the bases, dot the t's and cross the i's, so to speak. I had my mid-week Lenten sermon series written almost a month before Lent began. I've done the visits, written my own Bible study for our Sunday morning class, and preached every week since my Installation, except when we invited Southern Illinois District President Scharr to bring the Word to us. I've been involved in every youth group activity, and we're planning more--much to my delight.

But now I've got a case of the blahs. It's not a bad case of the blahs, but I've got 'em. It's not burnout. It's not depression. (Don't think I haven't considered that possibility.) My diagnosis: Part of it is not taking that regular day off. Part of it is that I'm in sore need of a vacation, and we had to cancel the one we had scheduled (we'd be in Louisiana right now) because of Mississippi River flooding and the opening of the Morganza Spillway, which even now is spewing water towards my wife's hometown. Part of it is that Faith and I haven't been out together since New Year's Eve, and I really miss my wife! Part of it is that I'm not able to regularly exercise because of my neck issues, and I really miss my exercise routine from my time at the Rec. I can swim and walk, and that's it. My knees make walking problematic, and the nearest year-round public pool is . . . Carbondale? (Yeah, this is me making excuses, blah, blah, blah. Get those new sneakers on and just do it.) 

More than those, I think the real problem is that I've not been as faithful in my prayer life as I know I need to be as a parish pastor. I wrote my MDiv thesis on the topic of daily prayer, and I know how important it is for everyone, more than just pastors. My copy of "The Treasury of Daily Prayer" is sitting on my desk as I type. It's not collecting dust--perish the thought! (I keep a notepad on top of it to keep the dust away.) I have numerous hymnals, Gerhard's "Sacred Meditations", "The Brotherhood Prayer Book", Lindemann's "The Daily Office", Loehe's "Seed Grains of Prayer", Dobberstein's "The Minister's Prayer Book", and half a shelf more. The discipline to open and use these resources is what's lacking. "The spirit is willing, but the flesh" and all that.

I don't write this seeking your pity or even your recommendations. I've heard them all. Twice. However, if you are so inclined, your prayers would be appreciated. As always.

"O Lord, open Thou my lips . . ."

Let me find in You my pleasure . . .

"Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light." -- Matthew 11:28-30 (NKJV)

This will be the first week since the end of June where I won't be heading off on Sunday morning to step into the pulpit and preach the Word to God's people. Though it has been a pleasure to return to a weekly preaching schedule for most of the past four months--and I think I preached more in these past four months than I did in my whole last year in Ohio--I'll admit that I'm ready for this break. As a parish pastor it was a fairly simple three-step process to recover from the drain of preaching:
1. Go into the study on Monday (or Tuesday) morning, close the door, and meditate on the Word.
2. Get on my knees and pray.
3. Go to the hospital and visit the sick and suffering in the congregation.
Doing those things always helped me to be able to get past the crash of preaching the previous Sunday so I could begin to prepare for the next.

Preaching ten of the last twelve weekends has left me in need of some serious spiritual refreshment. Now that I work a full-time job outside of the pastoral ministry, that recovery process is not so easy. Although I am able to a certain extent to set my own work schedule, that doesn't include a whole lot of time for me to sit at my desk and meditate on the Word, much less pray. And I obviously don't have shut-in or hospitalized parishioners to visit. I can spare some time here and there, but I have to make do with the barest fraction of the time I used to take to refresh myself spiritually. I also don't receive the body and blood of Christ as often as I did as a parish pastor, as I would frequently commune with my shut-in members. My prayer life is better now than it was before I went to seminary, but it's not nearly as healthy as it was when I was a parish pastor. As a result, I find myself worn down, more susceptible to weaknesses and temptations, less patient.

I'm an orderly person in some respects, not the least of which is that I like to have a fairly good idea of what my schedule will be. I can alter that schedule as the need arises, but I work so much better when there I have structure. (You should have seen my bookshelves in my study in both North Dakota and Ohio. Faith thinks I'm OCD, and she may be right.) But right now, in order to garner for myself more time for spiritual refreshment, I must be more flexible than is my usual wont. I must utilize the flexibility I have when doing my recreational reading to fit in more theological reading and reflection. I must find more time in my life for prayer. I don't think it is necessarily salutary to abandon all my amusements, because those help refresh me physically and mentally. But I can have a better balance. I must have a better balance.

Wisdom's highest, noblest treasure,
Jesus, is revealed in you;
Let me find in You my pleasure,
And my wayward will subdue,
Humility there and simplicity reigning,
In paths of true wisdom my steps ever training.
If I learn of Jesus this knowledge divine,
The blessing of heavenly wisdom is mine.
-- LSB 536, though I like the TLH translation better

A week in the life of a part-time steward of the mysteries

"This is a faithful saying: If a man desires the position of a bishop, he desires a good work." -- I Timothy 3:1

This past week was a very interesting week, speaking in terms of my role as a pastor.

It started this past Sunday, June 14, the Second Sunday after Pentecost. For the second straight week I preached at St. Paul Lutheran Church in New Orleans, Louisiana--not that St. Paul, the other one . . . on Annette St. (Yes, there are two LCMS congregations in New Orleans named St. Paul, which caused some confusion in speaking to the organist of the other St. Paul Lutheran Church when I was at a pastor's installation in Mandeville two weeks earlier.) Back in February, Pastor Ertl who serves St. Paul asked me to fill in for him this month, and I take pretty much every opportunity I'm offered to preach. What Pastor Ertl didn't mention was that this is predominantly an African American congregation. This was my first time in such a congregation. We used Divine Service Setting Two from Lutheran Service Book for the liturgy, and they used hymns from both LSB and an Augsburg Fortress hymnal called This Far by Faith: An African American Resource for Worship. They were far more comfortable with the hymns from TFBF. Now, I don't know if every congregation made up mostly of African Americans is this way, but I found it a little unnerving at first during my sermon to hear "Amen" and "That's right" and "Uh huh" in response to the highlights of the sermon. I found myself getting into a rhythm with the feedback, finding a cadence, my voice rising and falling in emphasis. By the second week I hardly noticed at all, except when I said, "Maybe God needs to find a better way of doing things," and received an "Amen" in response. Putting that aside, I was amused that a choir of six people sang louder that half the congregations I've preached in or visited as a pastor, including a congregation that boasted over three-hundred people in one of their Sunday morning services. They were focused during the sermon, their attention never wavering. All in all it was an interesting and lovely experience for me. They gave me warm welcome, and I hope they ask me back when they need someone to fill in for them.

I moved on to Salem Lutheran Church in Gretna, Louisiana, on Wednesday, the 17th. Father Larry Beane is the pastor of Salem, and if you'll look at his blog and this post at Gottesdienst Online where he is a regular contributor, you will see that, among other things, he is a staunch proponent of traditional liturgy and the ceremonies that have traditionally gone along with traditional liturgy. I am also a proponent of traditional liturgy--that's a blog post for another day--though I am not nearly as staunch as Father Beane. However, his liturgical practice at Salem allows me to be as ceremonial as I like. At most congregations I do not genuflect at all. I have no wish to distract the congregation by doing something they might consider "too Roman Catholic", so I refrain from the practice of my own piety so I do not disturb their piety. But since Pastor Beane does so at Salem, I felt no such restraint was necessary. I chanted the liturgy, including the Lord's Prayer and the Words of Institution. I made the sign of the cross over myself without compunction. We had a Gospel processional. And I genuflected during the consecration of the elements--and not just a quick tap-the-knee-on-the-floor, either, but a rest-the-knee-on-the-floor-for-a-good-five-seconds kind of genuflection. Again, as a guest pastor I would not do these things in every congregation I visit. I tend to try to match my practice to that of the congregation's own pastor so i do not disturb their practice of piety. But when the opportunity arises--when I'm preaching at Salem in Gretna or at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in Brandon, Mississippi in particular--it's nice to be able to let it all hang out, so to speak. Thank you, Father Beane and the brothers and sisters in Christ at Salem, for giving me welcome.

Thanks be to God for these diverse opportunities to preach the Word! Though I greatly desire to be a parish pastor and be able to serve one parish, the congregations to whom I have brought the Word and Sacraments over the past three years have taught me a great deal about the One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church . . . and about myself and my love for parish ministry. When I was considering the Call to serve in Ohio I had thought it a blessing and an advantage not to have to preach every Sunday. Never again. Never again, God willing, will I take the opportunity to preach the Word for granted.

Thursday was the nine-year anniversary of my Ordination into the Office of the Holy Ministry. This day went by mostly unremarked, except for the card I received from the Southern District office reminding me of the stole placed upon my shoulders on the day of my Ordination. "Take my yoke upon you and learn from me . . . " Nine years, nearly four of which I have spent not yoked to a congregation. I'm ready, Lord, whenever you are. Thy will be done, of course, but you do know my thoughts on the matter, and I hope you don't mind if I remind you frequently.

On Friday I drove to Baton Rouge to attend part of the convention of the Southern Distirct of the Lutheran Church--Missouri Synod. I missed the whole first day--having a full-time job, I didn't feel I should take two days off to attend the whole convention. Having missed so much of it, I can't comment much on what went on in terms of convention business, except to say that it seemed we didn't have a whole lot to get done. But while I was there, I got the chance to speak with President Schultz about my situation. I asked Pastor Rudnik, my pastor and now my circuit counselor, to join me, and we sat down with President Schultz for about twenty minutes. I am currently on candidate status, which means that I don't have a Call to a particular congregation at this time but am eligible to receive and accept Calls and to preach and teach as requested for congregations in need. That candidate status runs out in October, and I was worried that I would not be able to receive Calls once that happened. Oh, we're allowed to apply for reinstatement, of course, but I was worried that someone would try to Call me while I was on non-candidate status and that I would be unable to receive or accept a Call. President Schultz assured me this would not be the case, that non-candidate status does not preclude a pastor from receiving Calls, and should I not receive a Call in the next four months I would still be able to receive and accept Calls and in the meantime fill in for congregations upon request. I still would like to receive a Call, of course, as soon as possible--please, God!--but I don't have to worry that it has to happen immediately.

One last word. I must thank my wife for her patience and her willingness to watch me drive off to these various places, leaving the Terrible Toddler Twins in particular in her care. She has been a true helpmeet these past four-and-a-half years, and I look forward to the day when I can introduce her to the congregation I have been Called to serve and say, "This is my wife," and watch them welcome her as a sister in Christ.

"Let a man so consider us, as servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God." -- I Corinthians 4:1

Law and Gospel in a gesture

I'm in a rather disturbing conversation right now about making the sign of the cross. I won't go into details, save that it always seems like one of the main objections to making the sign of the cross in Lutheran circles is that people make a requirement of it.

Making the sign of the cross is a wonderfully pious and godly gesture in which the Christian acknowledges the blessings he receives and says, "Indeed, this blessing is for me." But it is not necessary, and anyone who says that it's necessary is living under the Law.

There are few things worse than making a Law out of something that is wonderful sign of the Gospel.