I thought
it important to share a bit more about myself, my motivation for, and hope in
writing this blog.
I’ve been a
Christian for over 30 years. I gave my life to Christ when I was in high school
because I met a group of committed Christians that made me want to know the
Lord they knew. As I mentioned in “About Me,” I’m a preacher’s son. It’s not as
if I hadn’t heard the gospel before meeting that group. My father was a great
preacher and a good father. The youth group I belonged to had some wonderful
youth in it. In fact, a number of ministers have come out of that youth group.
But up to that time in my life, whether it was what I needed to see in others
around me or my own lack of receptivity, there was very little about Christianity
that interested me. The group that changed it all had a quiet witness about a
God who gave them joy despite their difficult lives. That witness opened the
door for me to hear the Spirit’s voice whisper, “In Me you’ll find meaning and
purpose; life.” I surrendered my life in a very non-church setting, and began
my journey with God.
I really
can’t pinpoint how long it was after my conversion before I headed down the
path toward the ministry. The reason I can’t really nail it down is because I
don’t remember having any type of mystical call. After having watched some of
the tough stuff my father had to go through as a minister, I was pretty adamant
that I didn’t want to have anything to do with the ministry; at least not pulpit
ministry in the local church. However, despite my desire not to walk in my dad’s
footprints, I couldn’t get away from the thought that this was what I was
supposed to do.
When I
finally talked with my dad about it, he suggested I run away as fast as I
could. Obviously, at that time in his life, he wasn’t terribly enthralled with
the ministry either. The general gist of our conversation was, “You’re crazy if
you go into ministry without a calling. You’re crazy if you walk away if you’re
called.”
Since I
couldn’t get away from the inner voice that brought a sense of peace and
excitement with the call, I decided that I would step out on faith and trust
that it was the Spirit leading me.
Looking
back, and as I’m beginning to wonder about my own level of mental stability
(just kidding…kind of), I find some comfort in the fact that the
still-small-voice didn’t call me to be a male prostitute or a street sweeper in
New Delhi.
What
finally sealed the deal was my prayer for open and closed doors. If you’re like
me, it’s tough to separate emotions from major, life decisions. More often than
I’d care to admit, I’ve simply thrown my hands up in despair and prayed, “God,
if you’re there, you’re going to have to close doors You want closed and open
ones You want open. I’m too stupid or deaf to hear You.”
The doors I perceived as openings
toward the ministry were acceptance into and funds for college and seminary,
not to mention a nice little country church to serve while I was in seminary.
The road seemed clear and God was moving.
Though I’ll
deal sometime in the future with open and closed doors, as well as my tendency
to prayer desperate prayers, the somewhat smooth transition and ongoing
validation of my “call” into ministry has had a great deal to do with some of
my later struggles and questions as to whether my time to step away from the
ministry had come (or has come). More about that at another time.
I’m not a
wildly successful minister. I’ve been doing the “church-thing” for almost as
long as I’ve been a Christian. I’ve had some enjoyable and “successful” situations—“success”
being another topic we’ll discuss later.
I’ve had some very difficult
ministry settings. I’ve seen growth both spiritually and numerically in some of
the churches I’ve served. And I’ve seen numbers slide back, arguments erupt,
and the blackness of men’s souls. I’ve found myself wondering how I could be so
lucky as to be one of the ones God called into ministry, and I’ve wondered if
God would strike me down if I found a job as far away from the church as
possible.
One thing
you need to know is that I don’t claim to have all the answers. Personally, I
thought I’d be a lot further down the road of faith than I am. In some ways, I
was a stronger, bolder, and more passionate believer when I was in my 20’s than
I am now. I probably have more questions than answers.
But, and
this is important: I’m looking for
the answers. If there’s anything I’ve seen over the years, there’s a
significant difference between the person who doubts in order to find true
answers, and the person who doubts in order to avoid belief and commitment. I’m
the former. I want to find answers. I want to grow closer to God. However, the road
block to working through my doubts and struggles toward heart-felt answers and
genuine relationship is three-fold.
First, few
people are terribly excited about you droning on incessantly about your doubts
and struggles. Oh, they’ll listen for a bit. They’ll offer to pray for you.
They’ll frequently suggest a good book or a speaker you need to listen to. But
after three or four…or seven, or twelve times of you coming back to the same
sticking point in faith, they reach a tipping point and go looking for other
friends.
It’s
understandable. People have enough to wrestle with. They don’t need to hear my
whining. But, not having someone who will stick in there without trying to “fix
it,” (though the efforts to fix it are appreciated at times) makes for a lonely
road.
Second, despite
the number of Christian books and speakers (& even blogs) out there
offering hope and guidance, there’s little available that walks through or
hangs out long enough in the mire with you. Though this is an over-simplification,
the standard form of most Christian books is a brief background of the writer
or the situation the writer is addressing. One to two chapters that address the
struggle, and then an excited offering of the revelation, insight, or miracle
that changed everything. The rest of the book typically consists of trying to
convince the reader that the earlier stated revelation is of God, and if you’d
follow it, your situation could be changed; your life could find meaning; your
teeth would be whiter; and birds would sing in your presence.
One of the
reasons for this blog (and I’m acknowledging the fact that I may very well be
emotionally unstable J) is that I find myself comforted by the chapters in
the above mentioned books that deal with the struggle, and irrationally irritated by the chapters that deal with the resolution.
For years, I’ve tried to discern why I respond that way. As far as my feeling
comfort in the chapters about struggle, it may be that misery loves company. It
may be that I feel like I’m not alone. It may be the fact that if some big-time
author had this problem, then I may not be as messed up as I thought. It may be
that I’m just messed up.
The answer
as to why I get irritated about the chapters on resolution is easy: I haven’t
witnessed those nice, tied-up-in-a-bow resolutions all that often and I start
beating myself up as to why God would work things out in the author’s life and
not in mine. But that’s another blog entry to come. I can feel your growing
excitement.
The third road
block toward finding answers is that as a minister, honestly articulating the
depths of one’s struggles in a public forum is not terrible conducive toward
building a thriving church. Let’s face it; people want leaders who have a clue
as to where they’re going. I know I’m heading God-ward. I know I’ll never turn
my back on Christ. As I’ve said to my wife on more than one occasion, “I have
enough faith to hang on to my own Christian walk, but I don’t think I have enough
to help someone else find theirs.” But as far as being someone who can stand
boldly and triumphantly on the hill of the Christian journey and confidently
call people to follow me, I’m a tad bit reluctant.
So, there
you go. That’s part of my story. I could keep going, but this blog is already
too long.
My hope for
this blog is to offer a bit of comfort as we walk this path together. I have
faith that God is bigger than our issues, and thankfully big enough to let us
bring those issues to Him. I’ve seen enough light in the darkness to know that
we’ll see the light again. But sometimes you just need to sit down with a
friend and whine a little, cry a little, pour your heart out and find comfort
that though you may be a little screwed up, at least you’re not alone.
Until next time,
Fellow Traveler