Ministry in an Age of Chaos
We are in a chaotic and deeply unsettled season worldwide. The strong man vibe seems ascendent and empathy is being trampled in the public square by those who claim to worship an empathetic God. It feels as if those of us in ministry are facing unusual amounts of strife and stress simply for being faithful to our call. It is not lost on me that October is Pastor Appreciation Month. Yet, pastors are feeling crushing responsibility to navigate a world we barely understand ourselves. Yes, many of us have moments when we feel deeply alone, discouraged, or beaten down. My dear friend Rev. Daron Brown shared this idea in a Facebook post of encouragement to offer grace.
“People listen to preaching suspiciously, looking for buzz words that ‘tip-off’ the preacher’s political leanings. People listen to preaching as evaluators, determining whether the content lines up with what they already believe – rather than being open to hearing a new and challenging word that might change minds or hearts. Theological work is graded by current political standards. Some pastors have told me that they feel exhausted, silenced, anxious, and alone.” (Daron Brown)
I saw Daron’s post after I participated in a virtual discussion with a varied ideas about theology, philosophy, and practicality in which I asked questions about how we foster a theology of relationship where we can hold deep beliefs that may not align with beliefs people we love, lead, or teach believe. That conversation led to some encouragement and insight from my virtual friends.
But I can’t help wondering what those of us in ministry are to do. What is our purpose? What is our vocation really? Sure, preaching the Gospel, administering the sacraments, and the usual answers work. But what is our purpose in this? If it is simply to help people think on ideas like heaven, we are failing. If it is simply to give spiritual counsel and guidance, the vocation of ministry can feel hollow. I am feeling this even more so because I heard a young man at the beginning of a journey asking about finding place in navigating what he is learning about God and what he is experiencing in his own questions. I remember having those same thoughts over thirty years ago when I walked away from ministry the first time.
What sustains me in ministry this go round? Why do I do this? That is an excellent question and one that requires not a little bit of explanation and confession. You see, I feel those things my friend spoke about pastors. I feel exhausted, silenced, anxious, and alone. Not all at once, and not completely because I know deep down I am not alone, but the beating down still happens. Many of us clergy feel like imposters even in faithfulness because we are sometimes just trying to figure out how to avoid upsetting too many people at the same time. But that’s no way to exist. The past few weeks have highlighted a gulf between the experiences of pastors who attempt to navigate the Kindom of God versus those who seem fine with the kingdoms of the world. Even the actions and attitudes of popular pastors and denominational leaders serve to discourage.
The thing that may counteract the chaos is not simple nor formulaic. It may be highly contextualized and wildly different depending on your particular place in the world. It is actually a few ideas. First is the idea that the Church should be about being with people in their suffering. Andre Root has an excellent discussion of this in the form of his book Evangelism in an Age of Despair. Root makes a claim about evangelism which I believe is also Gospel.
“Evangelism in these sad times is ultimately the confession that God meets us in our human sorrow and through our sorrow takes our person into Jesus’s own person This is good news! Through the art of shared sorrow we participate in the being of God and bring the good news to the world.” (Andrew Root, Evangelism in an Age of Despair)
It is truly hard to exist in sorrow and suffering if one is carrying a sword. Thus the sorrow sharers bring peace. But we can go to another book for insight into what I believe we as pastors can do that is lasting and brings good news through an invitation.
Not the invitation of an altar call, but an invitation to recognize that we are all within a story that has been ongoing for millennia. A story in which human beings wrestle with and try to understand God. A story in which we find meaning even in sorrow and we realize that we are part of an ongoing story, You may suspect where I am going, but surprise if you got it wrong. We are going to visit “The Professor” Tolkien, and one of my favorite passages in The Lord of the Rings.
Frodo and Sam are entering Mordor and stop to rest and share in thinking on their journey as friends. They come to realize that they are in a story that goes back millennia, just like us. Of course, is the Sam who cuts right to the truth. Sam the gardener who would prefer to be digging in the dirt or sharing a meal with potatoes recognizes where he and Frodo exist in a grand story.
“But that’s a long tale, of course, and goes on past the happiness and into grief and beyond it – and the Silmaril went on and came to Eärendil. And why, sir, I never thought of that before! We’ve got – you’ve got some of the light of it in that star-glass that the Lady gave you! Why, to think of it, we’re in the same tale still! It’s going on. Don’t the great tales never end?’ ‘No, they never end as tales,’ said Frodo. ‘But the people in them come, and go when their part’s ended. Our part will end later – or sooner.’ ‘And then we can have some rest and some sleep,’ said Sam. He laughed grimly. ‘And I mean just that, Mr. Frodo. I mean plain ordinary rest, and sleep, and waking up to a morning’s work in the garden.” (LOTR p712)
We are in a great tale, a story of hope, mercy, and love. We long for rest and yet we know that there is work to do. But that work is the light work of inviting into the ongoing tale. A tale of beauty where God exists in our sorrow and in our joy. Maybe it is enough to live our part of the tale in faithfulness so that others may experience hope as well. Wouldn’t this tale be so much more faithful if we find ways to live in a complex world while loving one another? Our part in the tale will end sooner or later. I pray that we are living our part in faithfulness to a God of wooing and possibility.