The underbelly of ministry...
I woke really early this morning. I laid in bed for a couple hours before I just got up, took a shower, and headed into the blackness before the dawn to start the day.
I'm usually pretty chipper in my writings. I made somewhat of a deal with myself that I wasn't going to use social media as a platform to dole out any more bile or pitiful posts of down days. There were other places where that felt more healthy and healing, so for the most part, I've kept all my facebook posts and journal entries life-giving in nature; honest, but positive.
But this weekend was a strange weekend for my heart. I don't know how else to say it, I just felt pretty yucky after I got home on Sunday night and eventually retired for the evening.
It's not that it was any different than a good many weekends, it just felt like the things that normally just bounce off me didn't for some reason. Heading into the weekend, I knew that we were sharing the story of how God has moved in our body over the past couple years to eliminate our $564,000 of debt and to help us raise over 3.6 million for our new facility that was matched by our Kingdom donors for up to 3.5 million. There's a pretty sweet backstory that goes all that way back to 2015...so I thought it would be good to honor that story...the gut-wrenching and the mind-blowing storylines alike.
But if I've learned one thing about being in ministry it's that people don't like to talk about money...they would rather talk about a nagging rash in their groin. It just hits people where it hurts for some reason, and so I knew going in that it wasn't going to be weekend of steroidal life! The people knew it as well since a letter had gone on giving an overview of the weekend and a time we'd take to revisit the capital campaign and to not let up or give up coming down the "HOMESTRETCH". It sounds exciting, but for most people, what going to get a physical is for the body, this is like going to church to get a spiritual for the soul. "Turn and cough". You can see it on people's faces.
I already had several conversations coming into the weekend that went something like, "Why are we doing this again, haven't we already raised the money?" or "So this is a weekend to not invite my friends, eh?" Or I just heard how many people were on "vacation" or "had other plans" or "were going to visit some friends" or have their "last weekend up at their cottage" or "were starting to feel a little under the weather". All that to say, I knew that it was one of those weeks that attendance would be down because even in the rain, people were going to to find ways to schedule themselves to not come. My suspicions were confirmed as I canvassed the congregation on Saturday Night and saw the empty seats scattered about almost sitting there saying, "Hey, where's that warm butt that I'm used to keeping me cosy for an hour and fifteen minutes?" In pretty much every service it was a fraction of what the last week of October would usually be...for some reason that really churned inside me. Even thought I can reason through why, I just felt deflated and hurt by it. Partly because I put the message together to be dripping with celebration, not condemnation. No matter, people know when to make themselves scarce, and this wasn't a weekend for consumers...it was a weekend for family, the ones who get together come hell or high water.
Beyond the sparce turnout, in two services I had families just get up, grab their coats and kids, and walk out in the middle of my message. I've been doing this long enough to know when people gotta leave early for a reason, but these happened early enough in the service and during a particular part where I was sharing financial sacrifice...it was like clockwork. One on Sunday morning at the 9:15am service...2 families at the 11:15am service. It's hard to keep concentrating when you're speaking the 4th time and you watch people just bail out and I kept watching them through the garage doors talking in whispers to each other with faces that looked anything but overjoyed. I kept plowing through my points, but when I would look back down at my notes I could feel my eyes blurring with tears. I know how much grit and guts these last few years took for me, and so many others, and it's like people were walking out on my heart...it felt very personal (even though I know it might not be).
After the services where I was able to talk to people, the conversations where strange with several people. It was like they didn't want to make eye contact...I felt avoided like I had leprosy or something. People usually are staying to talk to me...not this week. They were fleeing the scene of a crime...or so it seemed. Thank God we had cake after the service or the place would have cleared out like I pulled an emergency fire alarm. I felt so alone. So repulsive.
I went home and just tried to pray through it. I knew God wanted our church to be reminded of his might and power and the miracle that we're in the middle of. I knew he wanted me to invite people to stay faithful and to have spiritual stamina to finish the race. But my spirit could feel the spirit of Mammon coiled around people like a boa constrictor. It was crazy. I just had to empty my heart before God, but it was taking on water faster than I could pump it out.
Then we had the Open House in the new facility. I was hoping to spend some good time in generative conversations with good people reveling in all that God has done and getting in the presence of God for some worship, prayer, and a time to write verses and prayers on the walls and floors dedicating that building to his purposes in the future.
But for some reason, I saw everyone who wasn't there...people that have been so instrumental to Impact and me for so many years. On top of that I spent the better part of the night talking to people about problems going on in their lives and how they needed prayer for a friend or family member for this or that. I was so depleted of energy already and I felt like I was violated in that context with people who were using me instead of entering into the celebration of the new facility. It was their opportunity to get a piece of me and to corner me in a conversation about "their life" and "their truth" and "their needs"...my heart often is very tuned into my role in coming along side people in these situations, but it was the compound fracture of the weekend and the cumulative affect of disappointment and abandonment in the battle field that left me disheartened and disinterested, quite honestly.
I wanted to just rejoice in the fruit of our labor and glory in the goodness of God, and instead my time and energy was swallowed up with "ministry" good portion of the evening with occasional conversations of encouragement. It happened at the "Park Party" a few weeks back as well, I couldn't just be there with my family enjoying a good time, I was running triage for people needing mini-counseling appts. My wife ends up having to take care of the boys who are all over the place and I'm spontaneously talking with someone while someone else is waiting next in line to talk to me about who knows what. I'm wanting to just play bingo with my boys and instead I'm caught up in the warm cider line with someone talking about how their roof is leaking or their Life Group isn't as good as it was last year or their feeling like no one is making them feel a part of things...what was a hot cider, becomes tepid, and eventually by the time I sip the cider, it's cold...thankfully I like cold cider, too. haha.
I got home and made the mistake of getting on Facebook to see the pictures people posted of the night. But instead of seeing any of those, I got a notification of someone who attended our church for the first time and gave a "don't recommend" to our church with a statement saying she was "very disappointed with the services" and that "it felt like attending a financial meeting instead of an inspirational Sunday morning service". That was the straw that broke the camel's back. We haven't talked about our Campaign almost all year since last year at this time and you talk about an update, even in a storied format, and this is the interpretation of what went down. It seemed to confirm all my doubts and suspicions and wonderments coming out of the weekend. I shut off my phone, watched a little bit of the stupid World Series until I was bored after an inning, and went to bed.
I woke this morning with a pit in my stomach and I decided to jot down these thoughts and feelings in in my journal, because it's just as important to record this day as it is any other. This is just as real as any other positive story I put out there. I try to be happy and hopeful and helpful to everyone I meet, but there are some days that I just don't have the strength to withstand the way life seems to siphon the fuel right out of me. The letdown that leads to shutdown.
I'm grateful that I don't feel that "this is the story of my life". I feel like there are so many good stories that fuel me, but there are many days where feelings and scenarios of this "ilk" just pummel my innards and I'm depleted of energy, deleted like a backwards cursor erasing my story keystroke by keystroke.
It's days like this that I'm glad no one knows about my writings so that I can be very real without it having a negative effect on people. I don't want people to feel apprehension or undue stress for me, so it's easier to just bottle this stuff up and declare: "This, too, shall pass." And it will. But before it does, this time I want to write it down just in case my kids need to read a part of my story someday that doesn't end with a nice little bow on top.
Sometimes life sucks. Literally. Sucking the lifeblood right out of your veins...and it doesn't matter what your good motivations are or how much you've proven yourself to be without guile in your leadership...you just go through the gauntlet anyhow.
This white space seems as good a place as any to speak my mind...the unedited and unadulterated thoughts of a pastor who is trying his best to be a "good and faithful servant" in a pretty non-pretty world. Here's to discipleship in a dumpster fire.
I'm usually pretty chipper in my writings. I made somewhat of a deal with myself that I wasn't going to use social media as a platform to dole out any more bile or pitiful posts of down days. There were other places where that felt more healthy and healing, so for the most part, I've kept all my facebook posts and journal entries life-giving in nature; honest, but positive.
But this weekend was a strange weekend for my heart. I don't know how else to say it, I just felt pretty yucky after I got home on Sunday night and eventually retired for the evening.
It's not that it was any different than a good many weekends, it just felt like the things that normally just bounce off me didn't for some reason. Heading into the weekend, I knew that we were sharing the story of how God has moved in our body over the past couple years to eliminate our $564,000 of debt and to help us raise over 3.6 million for our new facility that was matched by our Kingdom donors for up to 3.5 million. There's a pretty sweet backstory that goes all that way back to 2015...so I thought it would be good to honor that story...the gut-wrenching and the mind-blowing storylines alike.
But if I've learned one thing about being in ministry it's that people don't like to talk about money...they would rather talk about a nagging rash in their groin. It just hits people where it hurts for some reason, and so I knew going in that it wasn't going to be weekend of steroidal life! The people knew it as well since a letter had gone on giving an overview of the weekend and a time we'd take to revisit the capital campaign and to not let up or give up coming down the "HOMESTRETCH". It sounds exciting, but for most people, what going to get a physical is for the body, this is like going to church to get a spiritual for the soul. "Turn and cough". You can see it on people's faces.
I already had several conversations coming into the weekend that went something like, "Why are we doing this again, haven't we already raised the money?" or "So this is a weekend to not invite my friends, eh?" Or I just heard how many people were on "vacation" or "had other plans" or "were going to visit some friends" or have their "last weekend up at their cottage" or "were starting to feel a little under the weather". All that to say, I knew that it was one of those weeks that attendance would be down because even in the rain, people were going to to find ways to schedule themselves to not come. My suspicions were confirmed as I canvassed the congregation on Saturday Night and saw the empty seats scattered about almost sitting there saying, "Hey, where's that warm butt that I'm used to keeping me cosy for an hour and fifteen minutes?" In pretty much every service it was a fraction of what the last week of October would usually be...for some reason that really churned inside me. Even thought I can reason through why, I just felt deflated and hurt by it. Partly because I put the message together to be dripping with celebration, not condemnation. No matter, people know when to make themselves scarce, and this wasn't a weekend for consumers...it was a weekend for family, the ones who get together come hell or high water.
Beyond the sparce turnout, in two services I had families just get up, grab their coats and kids, and walk out in the middle of my message. I've been doing this long enough to know when people gotta leave early for a reason, but these happened early enough in the service and during a particular part where I was sharing financial sacrifice...it was like clockwork. One on Sunday morning at the 9:15am service...2 families at the 11:15am service. It's hard to keep concentrating when you're speaking the 4th time and you watch people just bail out and I kept watching them through the garage doors talking in whispers to each other with faces that looked anything but overjoyed. I kept plowing through my points, but when I would look back down at my notes I could feel my eyes blurring with tears. I know how much grit and guts these last few years took for me, and so many others, and it's like people were walking out on my heart...it felt very personal (even though I know it might not be).
After the services where I was able to talk to people, the conversations where strange with several people. It was like they didn't want to make eye contact...I felt avoided like I had leprosy or something. People usually are staying to talk to me...not this week. They were fleeing the scene of a crime...or so it seemed. Thank God we had cake after the service or the place would have cleared out like I pulled an emergency fire alarm. I felt so alone. So repulsive.
I went home and just tried to pray through it. I knew God wanted our church to be reminded of his might and power and the miracle that we're in the middle of. I knew he wanted me to invite people to stay faithful and to have spiritual stamina to finish the race. But my spirit could feel the spirit of Mammon coiled around people like a boa constrictor. It was crazy. I just had to empty my heart before God, but it was taking on water faster than I could pump it out.
Then we had the Open House in the new facility. I was hoping to spend some good time in generative conversations with good people reveling in all that God has done and getting in the presence of God for some worship, prayer, and a time to write verses and prayers on the walls and floors dedicating that building to his purposes in the future.
But for some reason, I saw everyone who wasn't there...people that have been so instrumental to Impact and me for so many years. On top of that I spent the better part of the night talking to people about problems going on in their lives and how they needed prayer for a friend or family member for this or that. I was so depleted of energy already and I felt like I was violated in that context with people who were using me instead of entering into the celebration of the new facility. It was their opportunity to get a piece of me and to corner me in a conversation about "their life" and "their truth" and "their needs"...my heart often is very tuned into my role in coming along side people in these situations, but it was the compound fracture of the weekend and the cumulative affect of disappointment and abandonment in the battle field that left me disheartened and disinterested, quite honestly.
I wanted to just rejoice in the fruit of our labor and glory in the goodness of God, and instead my time and energy was swallowed up with "ministry" good portion of the evening with occasional conversations of encouragement. It happened at the "Park Party" a few weeks back as well, I couldn't just be there with my family enjoying a good time, I was running triage for people needing mini-counseling appts. My wife ends up having to take care of the boys who are all over the place and I'm spontaneously talking with someone while someone else is waiting next in line to talk to me about who knows what. I'm wanting to just play bingo with my boys and instead I'm caught up in the warm cider line with someone talking about how their roof is leaking or their Life Group isn't as good as it was last year or their feeling like no one is making them feel a part of things...what was a hot cider, becomes tepid, and eventually by the time I sip the cider, it's cold...thankfully I like cold cider, too. haha.
I got home and made the mistake of getting on Facebook to see the pictures people posted of the night. But instead of seeing any of those, I got a notification of someone who attended our church for the first time and gave a "don't recommend" to our church with a statement saying she was "very disappointed with the services" and that "it felt like attending a financial meeting instead of an inspirational Sunday morning service". That was the straw that broke the camel's back. We haven't talked about our Campaign almost all year since last year at this time and you talk about an update, even in a storied format, and this is the interpretation of what went down. It seemed to confirm all my doubts and suspicions and wonderments coming out of the weekend. I shut off my phone, watched a little bit of the stupid World Series until I was bored after an inning, and went to bed.
I woke this morning with a pit in my stomach and I decided to jot down these thoughts and feelings in in my journal, because it's just as important to record this day as it is any other. This is just as real as any other positive story I put out there. I try to be happy and hopeful and helpful to everyone I meet, but there are some days that I just don't have the strength to withstand the way life seems to siphon the fuel right out of me. The letdown that leads to shutdown.
I'm grateful that I don't feel that "this is the story of my life". I feel like there are so many good stories that fuel me, but there are many days where feelings and scenarios of this "ilk" just pummel my innards and I'm depleted of energy, deleted like a backwards cursor erasing my story keystroke by keystroke.
It's days like this that I'm glad no one knows about my writings so that I can be very real without it having a negative effect on people. I don't want people to feel apprehension or undue stress for me, so it's easier to just bottle this stuff up and declare: "This, too, shall pass." And it will. But before it does, this time I want to write it down just in case my kids need to read a part of my story someday that doesn't end with a nice little bow on top.
Sometimes life sucks. Literally. Sucking the lifeblood right out of your veins...and it doesn't matter what your good motivations are or how much you've proven yourself to be without guile in your leadership...you just go through the gauntlet anyhow.
This white space seems as good a place as any to speak my mind...the unedited and unadulterated thoughts of a pastor who is trying his best to be a "good and faithful servant" in a pretty non-pretty world. Here's to discipleship in a dumpster fire.
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