Seven year sabbatical

Facebook reminded me on May 6th that it was the anniversary date of the start of my "3-month" sabbatical in 2013. I had actually forgotten all about it.

I'm sure most people who know me know that those 3 months never ended. The week before I was supposed to return as a pastor I was informed the church council didn't want me to. They offered me a nice severance package, and that's the last I heard from any of them. Other than the one council member who delivered the message (who used to be Jane's "best friend"), not a single one of them has spoken to me since early May of 2013. Still.

Anyway, I had thought I was pretty much over the whole thing. Like I said, anniversary dates from the only church I ever pastored come and go without notice anymore.

For some stupid reason though... I decided to search my blog archive and see what I was writing at the time. It says that I started a paper journal about the sabbatical, so I checked my stack of journals and, sure enough, there it was. Boy was that a mistake!

I had forgotten just how bad things were when I started the sabbatical. Actually, how bad things were leading up to it as well. Oh my.

It was thrown together rather quickly after I started seeing a counselor in late February. He said I was on the verge of needing hospitalized for a mental breakdown. I was burned out, depressed, paranoid, OCD, and a host of other things. He suggested I would need 12-15 months of counseling, and needed to either quick my job or take a sabbatical. And that was the good part!

In reading through my scribbles, I soon realized I had completely forgotten the board's behavior BEFORE I even left. How we had agreed on my pay during the sabbatical, and then the very next day - 4 days before the sabbatical was to begin - the board chairman calls me and says no one wanted to say anything at the meeting, but the board actually WASN'T going to pay me that much! Then on my last Sunday there, the board chairman wasn't at church, and none of the other board members would speak to me. Only one of them - Jane's "best friend" bothered to even keep in touch with us at all over the next 3 months. That eventually stopped too.

What is even more ironic, and almost comical, is that one of the main people responsible for the whole mess is now actually the pastor of the church! You can't make this stuff up. People are strange.

---

My paper journalling only lasted a couple weeks at that time. It seems so weird that I'd completely forgotten all of that. I suppose I've forgotten a lot over the past 7 years.

As I think about it now, it really just makes me sad. How did things get so bad? Why did I stay so long? What else is there that I am totally unaware of now?

I did mention in the journal how sad I was that I wasn't going to be there - just for a summer - when the grandkids went to church. And it makes me sad that none of them are even aware that I used to be a pastor. At one time I was a nice guy, with a respectable job. I know that I can still choose to be nice or not, and my job is irrelevant to respect... but, man, that was one terrible dark time in my/our lives.

---

A few years ago a friend was planning his own sabbatical from church and he asked if I had any advice. I told him I was the LAST PERSON who should be giving advice about sabbaticals. He said, "So you think I should get things in writing then?" Ha! Yes!! ALWAYS get things in writing - even with people you think are your friends. I'd say that's about all I learned from the experience.

---

Every now and then I still get asked if I think I will ever return to preaching, or leading worship, or church work of any kind. And every now and then I think it's a possibility. But after reading just a few pages from my journal today... I don't know. I wish I hadn't done it (read the journal). I thought I had gotten over things and healing had taken place... But that's a pretty deep wound. It's a God-sized wound... and one that only God can heal. So it's not really even up to me...

---

You know, I intended to write about this today, but I thought it would be quite positive. I thought I was in a pretty good place. I guess that's the danger in reading old journals. Dang. Sorry for such a bummer post.

I've never much cared for lemonade

Sometimes I like when Facebook pops up a "memory" for me... Sometimes, not so much. Last night I posted this memory from six years ago on Facebook:

I honestly did start to make a joke about it. I mean, it seems so stupid and far-away now. Yet at the same time, I also wanted to post how pathetic I think it is that I/we STILL have not heard a word from any of the people responsible. In the end, it was kind of just "meh, who cares."

I'm really glad no one left a comment on the Facebook post like, "You know what they say when life gives you lemons? Make lemonade!" Honestly, I have never much cared for lemonade - the drink or the sentiment! It's either too bitter or too sweet... and I prefer things somewhere much more in the middle.

Anyway, so what am I thinking now that six years has passed? Well, a lot has happened. Both good and bad. I guess that would be the case regardless of all 'that' though. One part of me feels it was pretty much a necessity that I was let go. Things had gone too far and I knew long before the sabbatical that I needed to leave. So in that sense I don't blame anyone but myself for what happened. I stayed too long.

On the other hand, as necessary as it may have been, I still don't understand why it was handled the way it was. I guess the people responsible are no better than I though... and my only hope is that they may regret how things ended too. Unfortunately, it doesn't look like we will ever know for sure.

What bothers me most is that it didn't need to impact so many people, and for so long. I mean, I know I was going to be pissed and say a bunch of stupid and hurtful things, but to totally abandon my family... that just seems uncalled for. Whether that's my fault or not, I don't know. But I don't like it.

At any rate, before I wrote this this morning, I read my devotions from N.T. Wright's "John For Everyone" on the text of John 8:12-20. This is where Jesus tells the Pharisees he is the "light of the world." They, of course, don't believe him. Then Wright sums up with this...

"Are you ever tempted to reject the light? As you read John 8, do you ever find yourself siding with the Pharisees? Have we all, perhaps, allowed ourselves to forget just how deep the darkness goes within each of us, not least when we are called to be God's people for the world but decide to turn this calling into a privilege for ourselves?"

Damn... guilty as charged. People make mistakes. Me, you, and everyone else. I think I've come to accept my share of the blame for the situation, and I don't even hold what happened against anyone. It happened. We're humans. Life goes on. Yet, I can only pray that someday God would soften my heart to be able to forgive... whether it is ever asked for or not. When I think of the pain my wife and daughter, especially, have suffered, and how different the lives of my grandchildren might be... and so much else... It might not be anyone's fault, but that doesn't make what happened any less sad.

So, it's been six years. So what, I guess. I honestly do not think about it anymore. I can't imagine if we were still there. I do, though, wish I could savor some of the memories. Maybe someday...

The sabbatical that didn't stop

So... I was reminded by Facebook this past week that it was five years ago I started a sabbatical at the church I formerly pastored. It was supposed to be for three months - that's what we agreed to - but it actually never ended (for those unaware: I was asked to resign the week before I was set to return).

I just stumbled onto this piece my daughter wrote at the time:

Today is the last Sunday I'll hear my dad preach for three months. I've known this for a while and have been nothing but excited for him and mom to get a break and also to get three months of the guy who's going to fill in while he's gone. But, last night as I laid in bed praying for my parents and our church, I was not prepared for how sad I got. And this morning it didn't go away. Getting to be a preachers daughter is a really special thing and I'm going to miss seeing my dad in that role this summer. Anyways, if I had a diary I would write this there but I don't. :)

It was a pretty moving ordeal for the whole family. As for me, now five years removed, I have a couple thoughts:

1. I cannot even IMAGINE still being at that place and in that role. I am actually GLAD I am not. I feel good about life, and about no longer being a full-time pastor. I almost wrote 'no longer being a paid ministry worker,' but that's not really true. I still consider myself a ministry worker, and I do get paid (for the work I do). It's just in a really different way. Anyway, I think most of the animosity is gone for me. I'm glad to no longer be in that role.
2. With that said, I am still somewhat befuddled that... after five years... we have still not heard from anyone responsible for this action from the church. There has been no attempt, or response to our attempts, at reconciliation. That just seems bizarre to me. While I am happy where I'm at, I am still saddened by the way the relationships suffered (and not just for me, but for a lot of people).
3. If there is anything I miss it is the time I had for praying and studying. I do not miss preaching or leading worship at all at this point. In fact, I can't imagine doing it anymore. I'm not sure I can even remember doing it. I miss the quiet times though. I'm not sure if you would call them the 'alone times with God,' or simply the more contemplative life I used to lead.

Anyway... this is where I am now: I run the parking lot for our present church. I wish many things had been different five years ago. I mostly wish I would have reacted differently. I handled the whole thing very poorly. Very poorly. A lot of people were hurt, and I was partly if not greatly responsible. I regret that. But it's happened, and I'm okay with how things have turned out on my end. I'm still sad for many of the people around me, but I guess life goes on.

So... that's about all I can think of to say. It's been five years. If not for Facebook I don't think I would have realized it.

From burnout to... beginning to get better (pt. 3)

This is the third post in my series on pastoral burnout. You can find parts #1 and #2 by clicking the respective links (or scrolling down). Initially I was going to call this 'How I Survived Pastoral Burnout'... and that may still be an apt title. However, I would like to hold off making that call for awhile yet. You know, just in case. This is how I started to get 'better' though.

Having been a pastor in the same small, rural, "family" church for 14 years, I believe I started down the road to burnout around year 5 or 6 (this is detailed in pt. 1). I have to wonder how much a sabbatical would have helped at year 7. Unfortunately, I didn't get one until year 14... and then when I finally got one, the church council asked me to resign while I was still on sabbatical. So this is a brief description of how I survived not only the burnout, but also the uncalled for dismissal.

MEDICATION -
First and foremost I would suggest anyone suffering from pastoral burnout should be in counseling. It should go without saying, but probably needs to be said in most cases. It was when I finally started seeing a professional counselor (as opposed to pastor friends) that I was fully convinced of the need to take a sabbatical. He also put me on antidepressants. For years I fought to stay off them by exercising more, praying more, and any number of others things, but I needed help. Sure, there will be those who accuse you of being "crazy," or "mentally unstable," but they probably already have a low opinion of you anyway. However, medication for your symptoms of burnout probably isn't enough still.

MEDITATION -
Even if the meds help, you can't depend on them to solve your problems. My counselor suggested not only antidepressants, but he also prescribed meditation three times daily. As a Christian, and since I was seeing a Christian counselor, he prescribed "Christian" meditation. The difference is that, while general meditation is more of a 'clearing' your mind, "Christian" meditation is a 'filling' of your mind - filling it with truths of Scripture and attempting to create more God-centered thoughts, ideas and emotions. My counselor offers a 30-minute meditation audio for free on his website. To this day I still practice a variety of forms of Christian meditation on a regular basis (there are apps for that too!). It helps me focus, as well as fill my mind with "whatever is true... noble... right... pure... lovely... and admirable" (Phil. 4:8). Recovering from burnout requires someone better than ourselves to speak into our lives.

MODIFICATION -
It's one thing to finally come to grips with your pastoral burnout, but ultimately you are going to have to make some modifications to your life in order to survive long-term. My survival required modification of my activities, expectations, and occupation.

• Activities - As I shared previously, I was already doing a number of things that were supposed to help. I was an avid runner, I was in accountability groups, I prayed, studied, read a ton... but they were all things 'I' was doing. So how did I modify my activities? I quit doing those things, and actually started drinking more, I started smoking (after having quit for 25 years), and generally living a little reckless. While I do not recommend it, it happened, and I think it helped (me). If I was going to survive, it would have to be at the hands of God, not something I could control myself. I needed to bottom out; and I did.
• Expectations - This was/is perhaps the most difficult modification for me. I had to learn to live with little-to-no expectations... for anyone. That included myself. A common phrase my wife used to utter when she managed a pizza place was, "It's only pizza." That's how she dealt with a teenage workforce and a mostly-idiot customer base. When something would happen, she would just say to herself, "It's only pizza." I have been saying that a lot, about a lot of things! Life is long, and most things aren't that important. Friends will fail you, most people don't care, we're all a mess, and so it goes. The same goes for me. I seriously disappointed some people, and the world didn't end. We have to get over it. It also helped to change my...
• Occupation - This may not be necessary for everyone, but it became necessary for me. However, it wasn't the burnout that made it necessary... it was the treatment I/we received following the dismissal. I needed to re-learn that I did have some value and am able to make a contribution to the world again. Regardless of all that, and whether I ever return to pastoral ministry or not, the change has been good and I believe I am (or will be) a better person for it. 

So, again, I don't know that I can suggest this as a path for others who may be suffering from pastoral burnout, but this is what worked for me: medication, meditation, and modification of activities, expectations, and my occupation. I have no interest in returning to pastoral ministry at this time - I don't know that I ever will - but I survived this experience with my faith intact when I wasn't sure I would. You can too.

Next I will share some further findings in my continuing story of survival.

What does it mean to be a friend

I was reading this article the other day about Stuart Scott. He's a sports reporter who apparently has cancer for the 3rd time. I guess the Monday Night Football crew gave him quite the salute this past week. A teary-eyed Suzy Kolber shared the following on the air:

"It's been seven years and Stuart is the recipient of the Jimmy V Award for perseverance and he said in his amazing speech . . . that sometimes when you don't have the strength, you need your friends to step up a little bit and help you. So, Stuart, we want you to know we're sending you some extra strength and to keep fighting that fight."

I thought it was a nice gesture, and a good article. What really struck me, though, was the part I underlined in the above excerpt. I had forgotten about one of the last times I talked with the person who was chairman of the church board when I took what I thought was a sabbatical, and was subsequently let go.

It was a well-known fact at the time that I was burned out. I was seeing a counselor and was basically just "holding on" until I could start the sabbatical. I went to lunch with the chairperson, and at one point he asked what the council could do for me; how could they best help? I remember clear-as-day telling him that what I really needed more than anything... was for them to be my friends right now (which I thought they were). It was along the exact same lines as Stu Scott meant: because sometimes you don't have the strength, and you need your friends to step up a little bit and help you.

That's what has puzzled me the most about this whole dang affair with the former church. I don't know how, why or when they went from being my "friends"... to being people who wouldn't even talk to me (or my wife). It took less than 6 weeks and they apparently completely changed their minds, wouldn't offer an explanation, wouldn't meet with us, and have had absolutely nothing to do with us for well over a year now. It just boggles my mind.

Anyway... whatever... I don't think about it much anymore, but when I read that comment... it reminded me of that conversation in the Huntington Wendy's. Seems like a long, long time ago. And I obviously have no idea what it means to be a friend.

One year later

So I guess it's been (over) a year since I got fired from my pastor gig. The last time I preached was actually the first Sunday in May of 2013. Then I 'thought' I was on sabbatical for several months. It was sometime in late July - as I was preparing/looking forward to returning - that I was informed the church leaders (and a few others) didn't want me to return. Some days it seems like it was just yesterday, or that it didn't really happen, but most of the time.... I really couldn't care less at this point.

I think I've pretty much come to grips with the getting fired aspect. Certainly there were a ton of things I could have - maybe even should have - been fired for in my 14 years of ministry there. But I have to admit that I still don't understand the logic as to why or how it was actually done the way it was. I guess I mistakenly thought I had the full support of the church leadership in taking a sabbatical - because I was burned out. I admitted I was, I confessed it before the entire church, I sought help to rectify the situation.... I 'thought' that was the right way to go about it.... But apparently not in everyone's eyes.

The counseling was a huge help to me. I had actually been working with my counselor on my return strategy, a plan for the next year at the church, a way to assess my continuing or leaving... and he had even asked me to write a booklet on sabbaticals for small church pastors. Then the rug was just pulled out from under me/us - without anyone from the church so much as having one single conversation with me. In fact, the only time any of them have even spoken to me this whole time was the night two of them came to our house and told us that we were no longer welcome in 'their' church.

There are many things I miss about the life I used to live, personally, but I can't really say that I miss pastoring. I have no desire at all to preach or lead worship. My creative juices have pretty much dried up. I also don't miss the hospital visits, the agonizing over struggles and burdens others were going through, the social occasions I didn't really want to attend, etc., etc., etc.. However, I/we do desperately miss being part of a church family. We miss our friends. I miss 'church' discussions. I even miss our old church (the people AND the building). I guess it is what it is though. None of us really gets to determine our life situation. We take it as it comes.

So, I have accepted the firing. I have accepted not being a pastor. I have not, however, gotten over the betrayal by the people I thought were our friends. At one point I had forgiven them, but their behavior since then has made forgiveness seem like a candle in the wind. I just don't see it happening anytime soon. I maintain to this day that the people we thought were our very best friends lied to us, lied about us to the church, and then just completely ignored us... and in our deepest time of need. That's going to be hard to get over. I mostly blame one person for the entire thing, but there were several accomplices.

As far as church goes.... I am pretty much just a Sunday attender now. I would like to be more involved. I would like to be in a small group or bible study or something... We just can't seem to find our way into one. I also seem to have a hard time finding church leaders who want to talk to me - other than Tom. Sure, many will make small talk, but Tom is the only one who is willing to discuss discipleship, or strategy, or books, or ministry in general. I probably miss that more than anything else. I suppose that's the Apostle in me. My online friend, Dan, has been perhaps my biggest source of encouragement. I thank God for these guys (and a handful of others).

As for the denomination (or at least the Regional leadership), I am still deeply saddened by their role in the whole thing. Not surprised, but disappointed. The initial response - which they openly shared with me - was they thought I got too nice of a severance package, and they were worried about the precedent that might set. That was their main concern. Personally, I thought they should have been more worried about the precedent the church set in firing a pastor who was on sabbatical. But... what do I know.

So.... here it is... August 2014. I/we are getting by. I still think we have something to offer. I think we did a lot of good things. For sure, I was not perfect, but contrary to what the leaders at my old church have led me to believe, I think I was good at some things. But now... I honestly spend most of my time fighting the urge to drink-so-I-won't-think, and smoking to try to occupy my restless heart. So that's pretty much where I am. Fortunately I/we have had a small group of friends from outside the church that have helped us immensely. God certainly works in mysterious ways. And my soul right now is... okay. Even with a smoldering smidgen of pain and anger.

Bowling, church, end the sabbital, and things

We had our annual bowling outing yesterday. We didn't have a very big turnout, but it was a good time nonetheless. Jane and I, Dave and Joni, and Mike. The pizza was good as usual, among other things. We always go to Thunderbowl, and we got there just as they opened at 4 pm. I didn't bowl very well most of the night - in fact I got the lowest score on the first few games - but I switched hands the entire night, so at the end neither of my arms were too sore (I am equally bad with my left or right hand). I'm sure that is why my best game was the last one (152). I think I only broke 100 one other time. It was a fun time, as always.

We also went to a new church yesterday. A storefront church on N. Anthony. Erica told us about it, and it turns out the pastor had done a wedding at my old church one time. It was smallish (maybe 30 people), but it "felt" good. It was almost like son Isaac's church - only for people more our age. The music was led with just an electric guitar, but it was good (I really liked Amazing Grace done to the tune and with the chorus of the Eagles 'Peaceful Easy Feeling'). And this was the first church where we liked both the music and the preaching. I could see us not only being ministered too at this place, but also having a place of ministry ourselves. I just wish it wasn't so far north (it did only take us 13 minutes, and we hit a bunch of red lights). I'm trying to temper my enthusiasm though, because it was just one visit. We would still like to try some other ones, but this one is a definite possibility. It was a nice day.

Today is actually when I was supposed to start back to work following the sabbatical. Eh... I guess that's not going to happen. I don't think the reality has sunk in yet. I still cannot believe it. Harumph.

Jane was supposed to have a 3-day weekend but I woke up when I heard her phone vibrate with a text at 4 am. It was a girl from her work letting her know she was sick. So Jane had to open up today and work til 5. I felt bad waking her up... and also not having a job myself. Ugh.

This week I hope to start getting to work on the 4 weddings I have coming up, and also try to get a handle on what to do with all the books and stuff piled in the basement now. Next week will involve another step.

Cleaning out my office

This past Monday evening Jane and I went to our former church for the first time since early May (and possibly the last time ever) and cleaned out my office. In case you aren't aware, I have been on a sabbatical since May 5, and while on sabbatical I was asked by the church leaders not to return. We were totally blindsided, but didn't really see a lot of point in fighting it. So we finally decided on a time and date when I could retrieve my personal belongings. I requested that someone from the church be present when this was done, but they twice refused. So it was just Jane and I, and the quiet of the night.

We were informed the door would be unlocked from 6:30-10:30 (we couldn't use our church key because the locks had already been changed). We borrowed Drew Carrie's Trail Blazer and arrived at the church building a little after 7 pm. It was kind of surreal as we drove up to the place we used to call home for 14 years. We lived in the parsonage next door for 12 or so years. So I spent almost all my time there - either at home or in my office in the church building. I loved looking out my office window over toward our home - which we converted into a Mission House when we bought our own house and moved out. In some ways it was like we had never been gone, in some it was like we had never even been there.

We had several boxes for the 3 large bookshelves of books (plus a few others stacked here and there). We didn't have near enough. Jane started boxing up books while I went through files for those of a personal nature. I also had a ton of pieces of paper taped or thumb-tacked to the walls and bulletin boards; and music CD's; and drawers full of mostly just junk (nail clippers, business cards, hair brush, floss, etc., etc.). We also had some music up in the sanctuary, as well as a bench that Jane's brother had made from their barn wood, and some pictures scattered around my office and various other places. It ended up taking way longer than I had imagined, and we weren't sure if we could get it all in one load. We had the Trail Blazer crammed full (with the back seats down) from side to side and floor to ceiling. A lot of books were wedged in whatever nook and cranny we could find. It took us almost 3 hours. I had hoped to throw away some of the junk and clean, but we were tired and sweaty and decided someone else could do it.

When we were done loading up the SUV we took one last walk-through of the first church we ever pastored. It was weird to think what it looked like when we came there. Especially the basement, which is now carpeted, and which we almost single-handedly painted ourselves a couple years ago. We walked through the classrooms - where Jane used to love teaching; and the nursery - where our grandkids grew up and learned to interact with other kids. Finally we made our way to the sanctuary. Hmm... That's when it kind of started to hit me: We will never be here again; all the baptisms and dedications and tears and laughter and... everything. Jane wanted to play the keyboard one last time, but just couldn't bring herself to do it. I stood up front for awhile, and remembered where people used to sit. Then I walked through the pews like I used to do every Sunday morning and touched the back of the seat as I remembered the people who would sit there. Eventually we both ended up in the front pew, where Jane would sit, and we just cried. It makes me cry now just thinking about it. A lot of good things happened in that little church over the last 14 years. And now it's over (not that good things can't continue, but they won't for my family; not there).

We finally turned off the lights and headed next door to the mission house to see if we had anything there. I still had the garage door opener and I needed to return that. We opened the garage door, but the entry doors were locked. So I guess if we had anything in there it's going to stay there. Then we walked around outside for awhile. Our kids grew up in that house. I used to play football with Isaac in the side yard. The trees and shrubs we planted were grown. We'd added the playground, pavilion, and two sheds since we arrived in the summer of 1999. The kids both had their high school graduation parties there... I could go on. It was a gut-wrenching night. So many memories... and we were told to leave them all behind. No good-byes, no 'thank-you'... nothing. Just sign this piece of paper and leave us alone. I guess that's how it goes.

Anyway, we arrived back at our house around 10 pm and then had the task of unloading 14 years worth of ministry. It took a lot less time to unload it than it did to pack it up. We carried everything to the L-shaped room in the basement. It took about 20 minutes, and now we have boxes upon boxes stacked all over down there. I need to build or buy 4 or 5 bookcases now. Then we both wrote Facebook posts. Jane wrote:

Strange night tonight. Dan Horwedel and I packed up 14 years of ministry and hauled it away. So many good memories, so much time and effort which we trust was led by God with what seemed like positive results along the way. Tough way to say goodbye but I guess it was the way it had to be. Just the two of us alone in the quiet of the sanctuary.

 I shared what she wrote and added:

The wife said it best below (above). We went to my former office tonight for the first time since early May. It took nearly 3 hours to pack up all my books and files and bits of paper taped to the wall and sort through all our stuff. Then we just sat in the front pew and cried. Jane couldn't bring herself to play the piano one last time. I pictured where everyone used to sit and touched the back or your pew and tried to block everything else out. I think the hardest part was maybe saying goodbye to the nursery where my grandchildren will no longer get to laugh and play their friends. But life goes on. Right? Sad night.

 I am still receiving comments and 'likes.' I felt bad about what I wrote - thought it was a bit too sappy - so I wrote an apology the next day. But that's how I felt, and I actually think it helped us find some closure - at least as much as we'll be able to have.

And that's that, I guess. I have most of my stuff (my 3-ring council binder for 2013 was gone), and I've returned everything I had that belonged to the church. Now we try to move on. I feel bad for the several people who made me promise that I would return from the sabbatical. I really did intend to; it wasn't my choice. But I'm sure life will go on. I am just the latest of 4 pastors at that church to leave the ministry when I left the church. A trend I had hoped we were going to change when I took the sabbatical. But I guess not. And I guess it's not my problem anymore. It's also not my privilege to minister with those people anymore either. I have certainly been humbled by this - probably more than at any other time in my life. I have also learned a lot (am learning a lot). And here we are. I think that's about all I've got to say right now.

Peace out, my friends; and in.

Temporarily out of service

I have not been posting lately because I was asked to resign this past Sunday by my church (actually, the four elders of our church). I am still not really sure why, especially since I was still on sabbatical. I think it is best if I just don't write anything for awhile though. Jane and I (and our kids) would appreciate your prayers - for us, and for the people of the church where we ministered for 14 years. Sad stuff. One of those stories pastors talk about that happened to someone else. But this one happened to us.

Peace out; and in.

Church visit

Jane and I visited one of our churches in Columbia City this past Sunday. By "our" I mean it is in our denomination. I believe it is actually the largest church in our district too. It used to be trumpeted as the one the rest of us were supposed to grow up to be like. They have a big building, big staff, lots of people... So I was eager to visit on a Sunday while I had the opportunity.

They have two services, and we attended the later 10:30 am service. We walked in and stood there for a moment. They have a huge entryway, which is nice, and it was full of people chatting together and sipping coffee and holding their Bibles and some sitting in nice chairs and couches and so on. We both had to pee so we decided to do that first. I had been in the building several times before and thought the restrooms were both right there. Jane went into the women's room and I started in search of the mens. I went down the first hallway, passing several people who smiled at me, but didn't find it. So I went back and tried the opposite hallway. Again, no luck. So I kind of stood in the middle of the big entryway scanning the walls for a sign or something... nothing. Finally Jane came out and we both looked around, but we never did find the men's room. It was about time for things to start so we just went in the sanctuary and found a seat.

There was a lot of chit-chat going on still. One woman smiled at us. We took a seat in the middle about 3/4 of the way back. Jane was looking through the bulletin and I glanced at it now and then, but I swear every time I looked up it seemed like everyone was looking at us. Some of them smiled when we made eye contact, but most of them just... looked.

Finally the service started. They have a huge worship band spread across a really big stage. They had 2 drummers, 2 guitars, bass, keyboard, several singers, and the woman playing the grand piano was very obviously the worship leader. She had a great voice and was quite talented. However, just as I suspected, it wasn't very participatory. It was also pretty happy-clappy for me. The sound and lighting and visuals were all fantastic... it just seemed I was never really able to worship though.

Eventually the pastor appeared out of the darkness and it was time for the message. I was looking forward to this most of all because, while I have met the guy a couple of times, I don't really know him. He just seemed like someone that would give a good sermon. I have to say, though, I was a little disappointed. I don't know if he was distracted on this morning or what, but there were several times where he just made no sense at all. I can't believe he is like that all the time, but it was less than good on this Sunday.

So when it was over we kind of looked at each other... and walked out. We walked through the large entryway, and both sets of glass doors, made our way to our car, and drove off. Not a single person spoke to us the entire time. I thought maybe I was just being a little too negative or something, but Jane was the first to speak her disappointment. Again, it was just one Sunday, and maybe our expectations were a little high, but we were pretty disappointed overall. I'm sure it could have just been us, or maybe it was just this day, but it wasn't very warm and inviting at all. Oh well.

I am resisting the urge to draw any real conclusions from this. Just writing it down for posterity. I'm sure they are really good people and they are trying really hard. I was disappointed though. Next week we will move on to another place.

Five things friday

1. Ribfest has started in Fort Wayne. This is perhaps my favorite festival. Mostly because of the blues music, but also the food. I went for a little bit yesterday afternoon - to pick up my packet for the 5k on Saturday. I always try to find free parking whenever I can downtown. For events at Headwater Park I will often park next to the skate park at Lawton Park and walk across the beautiful MLK bridge. It is a much nicer walk across the river with the new bridge. Sometimes we will park at the Calhoun St. cul-de-sac too, or at Friemman Square, or on Berry Street at a meter (if it's at night or on the weekend).

2. I am supposed to run my first 5k of the year tomorrow morning, and I don't feel ready at all. I just can't seem to get my legs, and my knees are off-and-on sore. I'm sure I can make it - I still run 3-4 miles on most days - but I wouldn't be surprised if I end up walking a bit. At least I got 2 free Ribfest tickets, and the t-shirts were pretty nice (even if they are bright orange).

3. We had the Feipel's here overnight on Wednesday. There was supposed to be a big storm coming through that could result in tornados and whatnot (I think they call it a derecho or something). The weather people tried to freak everyone out, but it never materialized. Anyway, they all came over and spent the night, mostly because Drew had to go to work at 11:30 pm. Of course he had to take a taxi to Chicago (so he could bring a train back to FW), which meant he was heading right into the storm. Apparently it was just heavy rain and all was well.

4. I called in and got a prescription for 100 mg zoloft yesterday, so I don't have to take 2 of the 50 mg ones anymore. It is still waiting for me to pick it up at the pharmacy.

5. I have absolutely no inclination whatsoever to watch TV during the day. I suppose it is partly because we don't have cable, but I just don't have any desire. We don't even watch it very much at night anymore. I am also not on the computer very much anymore. I try to check things in the morning and afternoon, and usually again at night. And I haven't played the guitar yet, and I kind of stopped journaling and reading too. Yet somehow I'm still managing to keep myself busy.

Wounded leaders

I read a couple articles this morning that hit me pretty squarely between the eyes. Say what you want about Rick Warren but God has used him to speak to me just what I need to hear just when I need to hear it on so many occasions. Today came an article "Healing For the Wounded Leader." He describes almost exactly what I have been dealing with...

Too many churches are led by wounded pastors and leaders who can’t really love people or be vulnerable or focus on the future because of past rejection and hurt. But there is healing for wounded leaders!
There are a lot of things that wound us in life.  Maybe you were wounded because somebody lied to you.  Maybe a promise was made to you that was broken. Or maybe you were in a conflict with a church member or fellow leader. In that conflict some angry words were said and you were deeply wounded.  Maybe you were wounded by a betrayal, by rejection, or by being misunderstood.  You may have been wounded by being devalued, overlooked, or not valued enough.  And you can be wounded by loneliness.

Yep, that about covers it. And I say that not to point the finger at anyone specifically. These things happen. But at some point we need to get over it and move on. I will let you read Rick's article to see how he proposes we do that (and I hope my wife will read it). He does point us to Psalm 37:8 though: “Let go of anger and leave your rage behind.  Do not be preoccupied.  It only leads to evil.”

There was also a good follow-up article by Ken Quick "Taming Resentment at Church." It fit nicely too.

I take no pride in being a 'wounded leader,' but I'm not afraid to admit it either. I know/knew I needed help, and I am working my way through it. I am very grateful for a congregation who mostly saw the value and need as well. I am also grateful for the many friends who - whether they know it or not - are helping me through the process.

I latched onto a song lyric from Jason Ringenberg some time ago that I haven't thought of in awhile: "Only gypsies are made in a day." I have nothing against gypsies, but the idea is.... things take time; and we can choose what we want to be working towards. My daughter had a lovely post (which brought a tear to my eye as well) on her blog the other day (http://bornbeforethewind.blogspot.com/2013/06/choice.html).

So.... there ya go. It's a Wednesday; the sun is shining; I've got a belly full of happy pills.... I'm feeling okay for the moment.

Peace out; and in.

Day game and a pulled muscle

Yesterday I wanted to jog early because I wanted to take in a Tincaps game (Fort Wayne minor league baseball team) at 11:05 am. First I decided to do one last furniture move in the basement (I rearranged the basement furniture the day before) and pulled a hamstring muscle in the process.

I was moving this footstool/storage box that Jane and I made to store blankets in. It has wheels on the bottom, but I thought it would be easier to just pick it up and carry it from the living room into the pool table room. That part worked fine, but when I went to set it down.... I knew to bend with my knees and not my back, but when I squatted down I felt/heard my hamstring start to pull. Ouch. It hurt kind of bad, but I still jogged anyway.

I pulled a hamstring in high school - in one of the last races of my track career. It was a 200 meter prelim race at the district meet (where we qualified for the state meet). I had a pretty big lead going down the straightaway and felt like a gazelle - oh, it was the best I'd ever felt I think - and then it was like someone shot me in the back of my thigh. I jumped in the air, stunned, and somehow hobbled across the finish line. I was so far ahead that I still managed to qualify for the finals. But it hurt so bad that I couldn't even get into the starting blocks. It almost immediately turned black and blue. That was probably the worst track injury I ever had. So..... this is nothing compared to that. I did a light 4-mile jog. It's still a little sore, but nothing too serious.

So then I went to the 11:05 Tincaps game. It was a gorgeous day... mid-seventies and sunny. I figured it to be a relaxing day with a very small crowd. Maybe have a couple beers and soak in some sun. I was totally surprised by the number of people there though. Holy cow. As I approached the stadium there were people all over the place, and then I saw the line of big yellow school buses. Ugh. I forgot about field trips.

The seats were all sold out so I bought a 'standing-room-only' ticket ($5). I have been there for a lot of sellouts, but this was the first time I can remember the seats actually being full. One of the concession workers told me they heard there were something like 3,500 elementary and middle school kids there that day. Ugh. I'd believe it. There were packs of kids all over the place. There were quite a few adults too though.

Anyway, I stood in the shade just beyond left field for awhile, then I got some popcorn for lunch and found a seat at a table in the sun in the left field home run area. There were a bunch of Amish people in the seats in front of me. I thought that was a bit strange. They were eating junk food like it was going out of style.

It was still a nice way to spend an afternoon. I left about 5 minutes to 1 because I parked at a parking meter. I couldn't find any free parking since it was during the day, so I chose the meter over a parking garage/lot. It was only $1, but there is a 2-hour limit. I got to my car  near Taco Bell just as the meter expired.

All in all a pretty good day.

Carrie's facebook post

My lovely daughter posted this on her Facebook page this past Sunday. She's pretty special. I can't think of a higher honor than to have a daughter write something like this. Love ya, sweetie!

Today is the last Sunday I'll hear my dad preach for three months. I've known this for a while and have been nothing but excited for him and mom to get a break and also to get three months of the guy who's going to fill in while he's gone. But, last night as I laid in bed praying for my parents and our church, I was not prepared for how sad I got. And this morning it didn't go away. Getting to be a preachers daughter is a really special thing and I'm going to miss seeing my dad in that role this summer. Anyways, if I had a diary I would write this there but I don't. :)

Summer sabbatical

I finally announced my summer sabbatical in our worship gathering yesterday morning. Jane and I will be on sabbatical from our church from Monday, May 6th through Sunday, August 4th.

We have hired a friend - who happened to be looking to do some interim pastoral work - and I think he will be great for our church. Daughter Carrie will be handling the office duties on a part-time basis, and I think she will be quite an asset too. I also think our present leadership team is the perfect fit to handle things this summer.

I can't say that everything went exactly as I had hoped, but I am happy that everyone so far has been quite supportive. I am pretty seriously burned out (and have been for quite some time), and my wife and I could really use some time to heal emotionally and spiritually. I really do see this as a positive step for our little church though too. As much as I need a break from being a pastor, they need a break from me being their pastor as well.

My plans are a little up in the air still. Initially I intend to take at least a week just to try to get physically healthy again. I am pretty run down, so I will try to sleep as much as possible, exercise, meditate, and just try to get my head clear. After that I hope to do some reading, run, visit with some friends and some people who I hope can speak into my life, continue with the counseling, maybe work on my guitar playing (or maybe not play at all, I don't know), and Jane and I mostly hope to be able to worship at various churches this summer. I will probably take a few trips back home, maybe a few other places, as well as our whole-family vacation in June. So I have a feeling this 3 months is going to fly by and it will be over in no time. But I'm going to try to enjoy it while I can. I seriously need some rest, rejuvenation, and spiritual/emotional renewal.