I was delayed...

This past week I have been packing up my office and reminiscing about the last few years (and why I keep so many books that I will never ever read again...).

Last year one of the churches made me a collage of my ordination. There were pictures of me being ordained and pictures with my family after the service. It was a beautiful gift.

The year prior to being ordained was a difficult year because I was delayed. I knew it after my ordination interview before they even told me. At the end of the interview, I got the impression that there was going to be some things that I needed to work on prior to being ordained. It was pretty clear to me that this wasn't my year.

I held myself together in the interview... on my way to the car I passed a friend who just had his interview. He said his interview went great. I lied about mine and said mine did too. Got in the car and my stomach sank.

Some might have cried injustice. But I went right to shame.

"Someone has finally figured you out... you aren't cut out for this work..."

"Just give up... throw in the towel..."

I began thinking about how I was going to tell my church. Would they even care? What were the people who didn't like me going to think? "We knew this guy wasn't cut out for church work..."

And then I thought about my one-year-old daughter.

"Wow! What kind of father are you for her..." What was she going to think about this delay?

Then trying to digest all these emotions in the coming weeks... I felt like I no longer existed to those in my cohort that were getting ordained that year... I had disappeared... they wouldn't look at me... talk to me... I was delayed...

The root of shame is to destroy our dignity. I was trying hard to keep my head above water and a smile on my face.

This collage of pictures became a beacon of hope for me. It reminded me that the voice in my head wasn't telling me the truth.

And the greatest gift of all is that in one of these photos was a picture of my one-month-old son. Grant it he didn't sleep the entire annual conference both me and my wife were stressed the entire time! But none the less not just my daughter was present that day but my son was there too.

There is definitely a lot of feelings that go with being delayed from ordination. There are also a lot of stigmas that keep people like me in the shadows like I carry the disease of being delayed.

Sometimes I would stay up late at night and type into google, "blog delayed united methodist ordination..." and blogs would come up about how people were delayed in the process and how they were grateful. I was somewhat cynical about their experience but also looking and searching for some hope.

And now here I am full of gratitude because of how the journey has shaped me and how I might encourage and lift up those that experience the same things I did.

Or that this blog might come up late one night when someone like me is looking for some hope....

She is shy...

This is what people say when my three-year-old daughter tucks her head into her chest and hides behind my legs. It is the exact same thing people said of me when I was her age. I have been wondering over the past few weeks what it might mean to change my language around shyness.

I understand why people say it and I also feel the need to say these words to somebody to make up for my daughter not accepting automatically every person she meets. It sometimes feels as if she has a secret disease that everyone knows about and feels the need to point it out, "Oh, she is shy".

And yet the most devastating thing about shyness is that people think it means that she doesn't want to play or be involved. Or that they aren't taking in their environment or thinking intently about the people they are around. But the truth is that often times at the end of the day she will tell about how much fun she had playing with her friends or about a friend of mine that she met. Maybe from the surface, she appeared disengaged and fearful, but she unlike others was deeply connected and present.

A couple of weeks ago we went to Disney World and we got a fast pass to see Cinderella (I was thrilled...). She wasn't very excited about seeing Cinderella and much more interested in Minnie Mouse. She did what she normally does tucks her head into her chest, frowns, and hides behind mom.

I am thinking let's hurry this up. Just get the picture and let's go. I couldn't take it! There is a line of people waiting who want to see Cinderella.

And then Cinderella steps in and tell us, "Let her take her time. We don't need to rush." Really... seems to be a lot of people in line...

These words were "magic" no pun intended. Because maybe this is what I wish people would say to her. Maybe these are the words I wish someone would have said to my parents when I was a kid.

After you turn 65 you can do whatever you want... (no offense)

Traditionalist/Silent generation (born prior to 1946) and baby boomers spend a lot of time complaining about millennials. They label millennials with a variety of stereotypes: lazy, entitled, unmanageable, selfish, etc,. The majority make up of those who attend United Methodist churches are people in their 50s and 60s while the millennial generation continues to decline.

And yet the baby boomers generation continues to salivate for "millennials" to show up, "we want more young people!"

Yet there is a deadly cancer that has infected most UM churches. It is none other than entitlement. To attract a new generation means the willingness to change. Yet the mantra of the baby boomer generation is that I can do what I want when I want it. I don't care what others think. I don't care whose feelings I hurt. In fact, I don't really care what Jesus thinks. He is just a mask I keep so I can be around friends. 

I try to see in the heart of people their best intentions. And maybe I thought I could just look away from this baby boomer problem.  

The reason millennials don't want to go to your church is that surprisingly they don't want a vision that is all about me. They want a vision that brings about hope in the midst of disparity. And they can see right through the baby boomers. They can see right through the entitlement. They want a vision that matters and that they can feel a part of. 

If baby boomers want more young people to come to their church. I have a solution. It is easy. Abandon the mantra of I can do what I want because I have earned it. Throw it away. Make it into a pretty wreath. Burn it in a fire. I don't care. Adopt a mantra that makes a difference and brings about hope to communities. Then... just then... maybe... millennials will begin to show up. 

the walk of shame

For some naivety works in their favor. What they don't know... works in their favor. Not for me.

When I was 16 years old me and my friends would go volunteer at a children's ministry in the projects of Crestview, Florida. There would be about 10 kid each week.

Back then I would get grandiose ministry ideas. And I began to think what if I started my own children's ministry in white, middle-class suburbia. I imagined hundreds of kids coming over to my house for the children's ministry. I imagined local church leaders wanting my expertise, "HOW DID YOU DO IT?"

In writing this I feel for myself. I think poor guy.

Ministry name... check.
Flyers... check.
Cards... check.

Next up was to hand out the flyers to the neighborhood. I was going to go door to door.

I am pretty sure I prayed. I was anxious. I didn't want to do it. But God was calling me to do it. I think.

I got to the first door. Introduced myself. Probably stuttering in a high pitch voice, "I am starting a ministry next door... send your children... that don't  know me... over to my house... for a bible lesson..."

I like any parent would say, "Thanks but no thanks...I teach my kids the Bible." That is what the person said. My heart sank. I was rejected at the first house. I couldn't dare go to the next house.

I took the walk of shame. I just went home. Through away the flyers.

I felt embarrassed. Shamed. Stupid. I should have known.

Now I am getting ready to start a church. Start a church! I don't have any flyers... yet. No name... yet. But what I do have is this voice that keeps me reminding me of the time I failed. The time I gave up that stupid idea. This voice tells me I can't do it. It tells me to take a safer route.

AMEN

I am keenly aware of who I am as a pastor. I feel like I have a good read on helping people on their journey to follow Christ. But I wasn't so sure how this whole pastor thing would pan out with being a parent. And I am still not sure. 

How was I going to teach my daughter to pray? How was she going to learn about God? 

Unlike most people sitting in the pews, I knew that my kids will most likely shine a huge spot lite on me. Not as a pastor but as a father. They more than anyone will seek in one way or another to mimic their parents. 

And then one day it happened. We were reading at night and I just asked my daughter if she would like to pray. She puts her hands together. What? I didn't teach you that... and not necessary but whatever... and bows her head. 

And we practice praying and giving thanks for others. Simple words that she repeats after me. And then we said the Lord's prayer. Repeating my lines in jibberish as if she knows the "song" already. 

And then at the end with a very loud, passionate AMEN. What a word to end the day with... so be it... a beautiful exhale for all the great things God has done. 

I couldn't be a more proud parent. Now, most Sunday's my daughter doesn't care about the so-called barrier between the pastor and the church. She comes right up and grabs my legs. People asked me if I am distracted. How could I be?

I so grateful that I don't have to stand all alone up here. Even more, I have my daughter to stand with me. 

In fact... that is what discipleship is... it is just walking together. Figuring this whole life thing out. 

And all along the journey continuing to embrace the AMENs. 

...still want to be the cool kid...

The desire to be the popular one that everyone talks about never goes away. "Have you seen so and so's exploding ministry?"

Colleagues drop names and kiss ass.

We all want to be "that guy." And I pretend that I don't want to be that guy... but I want to be the cool kid. Secretly I want to be the one everyone talks about... and I hate this part of myself.

So often the work of clergy go unrecognized not just by parishioners but by the high leadership of the church. We save face and always try to make our lives and ministry look shiny and spectacular. We throw around people like they are just another number. So and so took a church from 50 to 200 people.

And I get caught up in this all the time. It is probably why I get so depressed when I spend time around other clergies. Because I am reminded of my own desire to be the cool kid. And maybe my cool kid friends on the other side have given up the fight. They have sought the accolades and it worked.

"In the Name of Jesus" by Henri Nouwen is one of those books that I read over and over again. He spends a lot of time talking about the upward climb that we all do including clergy. We seek our affirmation in people and things and not in the love of God. Even Jesus was susceptible to this temptation as well. In Christ, we recognize that our lives are not built upon accolades but all the sustaining love of Christ. I don't need anything more. I don't need to nor ever will need to be the cool kid.

Just this past evening I had the privilege to introduce my congregation to the work of Henri Nouwen and to his concept of the wounded healer. We talked about how our wounds make us more sensitive and caring towards others. And our wounds that can be so painful at a point in our lives can be a healing balm for others later in our journey.

After the bible study, a gentleman came up to me.... and got close. He said, "You know... I never believed I was a child of God my whole life until... you told me that I was. You are my wounded healer..."

For me, it was a powerful affirmation that I am doing exactly what I need to be doing. Other kids can be cool...

A Coke and a Pack of Nabs

A few weeks ago I sat with one of my favorite parishioners at his home. We didn't immediately hit off when I first arrived at the church. I didn't get him and he didn't get me. Some people are okay to reside in this tension with no resolution. But for the both of us, I think we wanted to be friends but couldn't find the road to get there.

 I would come home from a church event and my wife would ask me how it went. I'd say the church event went great but I don't think so and so likes me and I can't figure it out.

This person had a great relationship with everyone in the community but not with me his pastor. I couldn't figure this out.

Then one day there was a knock on my office door. And it was him. I was nervous and surprised. I invited to come in and sit down. He asked me if I wanted to drink a coke and eat a pack of nabs (at 10am in the morning). The immediate answer was probably not right now... but my real answer was yes lets feast and drink!

At that moment the nabs and coke became our bread and wine blessed by God. We celebrated that we actually are two people that can get along very well. We could actually be friends. We spent a few minutes together and then he went off on his day. I actually didn't think much of that moment. There would be many more knocks on my door. He would often times remark... if those people who didn't like you... would come and do what I did... they would know how real and kind you are...

As we sat together in his living room talking. He told me with a tear running down his face. That day he knocked on my door with nabs and a coke changed him. Not only did that day change him... it changed me.