What Sabbatical Has Been.
Sabbatical has been a long journey home. To return to one's own space and place and discover it new and yet always known is something poets have often reflected upon. T. S. Eliot says it like this:
We shall not cease from exploration,
and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive
where we started and know the place for the first time.
And for me, sabbatical has been an opportunity to heal, to reflect, to study, identify problems and opportunities, and look forward as I come home. But I think the deepest work of my sabbatical was a spiritual work. I am someone who tends to carry a deep tension and pressure within myself--so much so that it has been exceedingly difficult for me to rest. Almost ever.
Sabbatical was the first time I had the space to see this, or at least really register it, and how bad it was for me, my family, and PMC. Somehow, I was opened up to what God wants enough that I could actually let a slow peace penetrate my being over a long period of time. I don't think I ever imagined how much difference this could make in both perspective and my will to grow. Perhaps I did not dare hope that I could actually learn something new. After all, people do not usually change. Maybe this is why the Christian life is so hard: it is centered around repentance--a change of direction. Fear, anxiety and the desire for control keep us from being flexible. We want new things but find them just out of reach as we reach through the bars of our fears and reluctance. And so, our desires and our experience do not meet each other. This is normal, I think.
But because it is so normal, it feels strange and wonderful to sense changes in myself as a result of this time of resting over the summer. It feels like God has finally done a thing that I so badly needed and could not do for myself. And my deep hope is that these changes that are internal will have external outcomes. We need them to if they are to have lasting benefit in our community.
The first change is speed. I am dedicating myself to moving slowly. I have had such a desire to see things progress, and this desire, combined with the pressure I have been carrying, has meant I have pushed relentlessly for things to move. Work on the building, changes and improvements to our leadership structures and administrative practices, pushing for growth and development--this has been my approach: to strive hard, non-stop. "Consider the whole Place" is a farming mantra that, in that context, meant "Manage an eco system." Good farmers give consideration and take concerted action across the length and breadth of the entire farm/system. But I am seeing that, as a pastor, I need to wait on the spirit more. I need to slow down and listen better to people, discovering what is happening in their lives and in the church they make up. I need to pick and choose my spots, instead of trying to be everywhere. I am coming to see the work as tending and care-taking movement within the community whose source is not me. I guess that's why pastor means shepherd. Sheep are on the move, finding their sources of nourishment. Shepherds slowly walk alongside them and help them find the best food and navigate dangers and opportunities.
The second is a triad: delegation, encouragement, and communication. In the past I have taken on too much myself. "Never ask someone to do something you are unwilling to do yourself" and "never pay someone else to do something you can do yourself." These phrases might make for good farming, but I am realizing that they cannot be sustained as a pastor. It turns out good leadership is about helping others see their own joys and their own good work, not identifying needs and doing the work yourself. It is about letting go and seeing life flourish, not holding tight and "making things happen."
Last, and most important, I want to be part of building deep and abiding relationships rooted in human and divine fellowship. In a key conversation I had this week, as well as at our Pastoral Team meeting last night, I was confronted anew with the truth that my approach to pastoring has not always put community relationships first. Through both conversations, and the honesty of fellow PMC community members, I was reminded that if we do not belong to each other on the level of the heart, we will not be what we need to be. The first two changes above are, ultimately, about creating space for this third. And so I commit myself to work (slowly and using delegation, encouragement, and good communication) to build a church that is rooted in conversation, relationships, trust, community, fellowship, friendship, fun, adventure and partnership. I want to be a pastor of a church that worships, works for peace and justice, laughs and plays with loving communicative relationships as its non-negotiable. I want to be a pastor who, in my own life and ministry values and pays close attention to people and their lives.
The ability to see these things and learn these lessons has been gifted to me by Pittsburgh Mennonite Church, both in the time to heal and reflect on Sabbatical, and in the honest conversations upon my return. And so, though it has been hard in some ways, coming home feels like gold. I hope that the new directions and commitments I am making will result in ways of being that foster life and joy in our community. Ultimately, I think that is the point of a sabbatical: to experience life--abundant life. Sending me on sabbatical makes sense if our community experiences more life because of it. That is what I hope will happen. It will with God's help.
We shall not cease from exploration,
and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive
where we started and know the place for the first time.
And for me, sabbatical has been an opportunity to heal, to reflect, to study, identify problems and opportunities, and look forward as I come home. But I think the deepest work of my sabbatical was a spiritual work. I am someone who tends to carry a deep tension and pressure within myself--so much so that it has been exceedingly difficult for me to rest. Almost ever.
Sabbatical was the first time I had the space to see this, or at least really register it, and how bad it was for me, my family, and PMC. Somehow, I was opened up to what God wants enough that I could actually let a slow peace penetrate my being over a long period of time. I don't think I ever imagined how much difference this could make in both perspective and my will to grow. Perhaps I did not dare hope that I could actually learn something new. After all, people do not usually change. Maybe this is why the Christian life is so hard: it is centered around repentance--a change of direction. Fear, anxiety and the desire for control keep us from being flexible. We want new things but find them just out of reach as we reach through the bars of our fears and reluctance. And so, our desires and our experience do not meet each other. This is normal, I think.
But because it is so normal, it feels strange and wonderful to sense changes in myself as a result of this time of resting over the summer. It feels like God has finally done a thing that I so badly needed and could not do for myself. And my deep hope is that these changes that are internal will have external outcomes. We need them to if they are to have lasting benefit in our community.
The first change is speed. I am dedicating myself to moving slowly. I have had such a desire to see things progress, and this desire, combined with the pressure I have been carrying, has meant I have pushed relentlessly for things to move. Work on the building, changes and improvements to our leadership structures and administrative practices, pushing for growth and development--this has been my approach: to strive hard, non-stop. "Consider the whole Place" is a farming mantra that, in that context, meant "Manage an eco system." Good farmers give consideration and take concerted action across the length and breadth of the entire farm/system. But I am seeing that, as a pastor, I need to wait on the spirit more. I need to slow down and listen better to people, discovering what is happening in their lives and in the church they make up. I need to pick and choose my spots, instead of trying to be everywhere. I am coming to see the work as tending and care-taking movement within the community whose source is not me. I guess that's why pastor means shepherd. Sheep are on the move, finding their sources of nourishment. Shepherds slowly walk alongside them and help them find the best food and navigate dangers and opportunities.
The second is a triad: delegation, encouragement, and communication. In the past I have taken on too much myself. "Never ask someone to do something you are unwilling to do yourself" and "never pay someone else to do something you can do yourself." These phrases might make for good farming, but I am realizing that they cannot be sustained as a pastor. It turns out good leadership is about helping others see their own joys and their own good work, not identifying needs and doing the work yourself. It is about letting go and seeing life flourish, not holding tight and "making things happen."
Last, and most important, I want to be part of building deep and abiding relationships rooted in human and divine fellowship. In a key conversation I had this week, as well as at our Pastoral Team meeting last night, I was confronted anew with the truth that my approach to pastoring has not always put community relationships first. Through both conversations, and the honesty of fellow PMC community members, I was reminded that if we do not belong to each other on the level of the heart, we will not be what we need to be. The first two changes above are, ultimately, about creating space for this third. And so I commit myself to work (slowly and using delegation, encouragement, and good communication) to build a church that is rooted in conversation, relationships, trust, community, fellowship, friendship, fun, adventure and partnership. I want to be a pastor of a church that worships, works for peace and justice, laughs and plays with loving communicative relationships as its non-negotiable. I want to be a pastor who, in my own life and ministry values and pays close attention to people and their lives.
The ability to see these things and learn these lessons has been gifted to me by Pittsburgh Mennonite Church, both in the time to heal and reflect on Sabbatical, and in the honest conversations upon my return. And so, though it has been hard in some ways, coming home feels like gold. I hope that the new directions and commitments I am making will result in ways of being that foster life and joy in our community. Ultimately, I think that is the point of a sabbatical: to experience life--abundant life. Sending me on sabbatical makes sense if our community experiences more life because of it. That is what I hope will happen. It will with God's help.
Comments
Post a Comment