Leaving?

This month marks the end of my sixth year serving as your pastor here in Genesee.  First of all, thanks for putting up with me that long!  Second, I've heard a couple of rumblings in the last few weeks.  Maybe it's the anniversary, maybe it's just the passing of time, but I've heard a couple people speculating that many pastors move on right about this time in their parish tenures.  Six years, seven years...the clock's up then, right?  Onward and upward!

I'm not foolish enough to ever say "never" in this job.  For all I know a mob could form outside my house next week, torches in hand, demanding my ouster.  (Fair warning:  after the last mob we hired a bunch of the kids to sit on the roof with Super Soakers just in case, so you might want to bring extra matches.  Also I've noticed that some habitually up-in-arms church folks tend to melt when touched by water. I don't want to have that weighing on my conscience, so do be careful.)  But assuming that doesn't happen and that we're going to continue in ministry together, let's get this out of the way now.

First, if you think I'm a "typical pastor" you haven't been paying much attention.  Dungeon Pastor t-shirts, laughing at our little goof-ups instead of getting upset about them, being more delighted when you say something profound than when I do, staying up until all hours talking to your kids, putting up with Susan Rigg...what will it take to convince you that whatever is happening here, it's very much out of the ordinary?  Many of the things I do are non-pastor-ish and most of them are downright delightful!  Why would this be any different?  If there is a typical pastor clock counting down to moving time mine is likely to be wildly askew.

Second, among my strongest non-typical-pastor traits is refusing to believe that bigger is better.  Bigger isn't better, better is better!  I swear some of my seminary colleagues had their careers all mapped out.  A couple years in a little church in the country, then a move to a city (probably serving time in a not-so-popular post for a while), and then a cushy job at a huge suburban church.  I remember one of my former classmates talking to me at a synod gathering a few years ago.  He went on and on about his rising membership and new building addition and re-covered seating.  Blech!  I mean, there's nothing wrong with those things.  But all he was doing was bragging about what a stud-meister pastor he is.  Dude, if you want to be a stud-meister you need to become an actor or an athlete or enter a profession where it matters.  All that "me me me" stuff under the guise of having a "great church" gets annoying and doesn't seem very Christian to me.

I've told the story before about Senior Preaching at seminary.  Every year they'd have a ritual where certain members of the senior class along with some faculty and the seminary chaplain would huddle together and pick out a half dozen seniors to preach during daily worship, an honor usually reserved for professors and visiting dignitaries.  When they called us together to discuss this matter I stood up and said I refused to participate in the selection and would refuse to preach even if asked.  My issue?  This was supposed to be worship. That's how they had framed it all of our years in seminary.  That's how we were supposed to view it.  That meant that these speakers would really be preaching...would be responsible for sharing the Word of God.  I was totally cool with the idea of students doing that as well as faculty could.  My problem was that we were limiting the supposedly "good" or "appropriate" speakers to the senior class alone.  Who was to say that I or anyone else was more inspired by God by virtue of spending four years in school than was a first- or second-year student?  I would have had no objection had they said that only ordained pastors and appointed faculty should speak.  I would have had no objection had they considered all students for this "honor".  But I failed to see how we senior students were much better than others in this regard.  If we're talking about the Word of God then treat it like the Word of God, not some cheap version of the Oscars.  Judge people on their knowledge and ability to share the Spirit, not on their tenure.  We weren't doing worship anymore, the process made it into an awards show with zero guarantee that the most worthy people would actually win the award.

Needless to say that my classmates were shocked when I made my angry little speech.  Several of them swarmed me afterwards to say how wrong I was.  (Oddly enough, many who were hoping for the appointment themselves became quite vocal in their objection to my objection.)  It wasn't a popular stance.  It wasn't typical.  And I didn't care.

Maybe preaching in front of 500 or 1000 people would be cool.  I've been offered that kind of thing before.  But it doesn't seem any more right to me to make pastoral decisions on that basis than it did to jump up and down because some hand-picked seminary committee decided I was worthy to speak in front of them.  I'm sure many of those prime speakers and big-church seekers have gone on to great things.  I have too.  I get to sing with Patrick and Rob, get hugs from Phoebe and all of Jeff and Maria's boys.  I get to plan worship with Phyllis and listen to Louise play amazingly appropriate songs on the organ and share the peace with people who genuinely enjoy being where they are.  I don't imagine that I've lost out on a thing.  My heart and attention are here where they belong, not on some half-imagined "next step".  That's why I stayed in my first call over six years when many of my colleagues left theirs after two or three.  That's part of why I'm still here and not going anywhere after six more when plenty of other people are farther "up the ladder" and on their fourth or fifth call by now.  I strongly suspect that were Jesus here he'd kick over that ladder and ask what the heck we thought we were doing inventing it, climbing it, and calling THAT "his work".  The higher up you are the more that would hurt, I'd imagine.  I'm good where I am, thanks.

Besides, it's hard to imagine a better calling than the one I have at the Genesee Lutheran Parish as 2011 comes to a close.  I mean, come on folks!  Things just got wonderful around here after years of struggle and pain to make it that way.  What kind of fool trudges through course after course of lima beans and then gets up to leave just as dessert is being served?  Any pastor with a lick of sense would dream of serving a place like this.

I know that...do you know it?  I suppose that would be the one missing ingredient that could make the cake fall flat.  There's nothing worse than going out with somebody who doesn't realize who they are.  Have you ever dated someone who was all, "But I'm not this and I'm not that so you're probably not going to stay with me..."?  That's somewhat...unattractive.  It's the same with pastoral calls.  We are an amazing congregation.  We are doing amazing things and will do yet more in the future.  Every second spent defining ourselves by what we're not--as if that stuff really mattered--is a second wasted that could have been used to celebrate and serve.  In other words, the only thing that could possibly go wrong and cause your pastor to tear his hair out and consider leaving would be a bunch of Eeyore-like moaning that pretty soon your pastor is going to consider leaving!

We need to love who we are, show it, and talk about ourselves like the precious, beloved, and gifted people God has made us.  If there's anything still wrong with this church, it's that we don't do that enough.  This includes realizing that we're all fortunate to have each other whether we be pastors, just folks, or pastors who mostly act like just folks.  It also includes expressing surety that we'll still be God's precious, beloved, and gifted children doing great things in this community no matter who the pastor is.

Not that your pastor has any designs on leaving...because he doesn't...not now nor in the foreseeable future. And if/when that moment comes we'll do it just like we've done all our other moments together:  uplifting each other and making it into a good thing that leaves us both better off than we were before.  So there's nothing to worry about.

There!  Said it.  Heard it.  Now we return you to your regularly scheduled programming.  Me?  I've got to go toss some Mountain Dews to the kids on the roof.  You can't very well guard against the torch brigade if you're half asleep.

--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org) (And mighty proud of it!)