An uncertain road
09/09/16 05:35
One of the dynamics of being a pastor in the same congregation for several years is that the events in the lives of the people I serve continue to surprise me. You might think that four decades of experience, half of it in the same congregation, would give me some insight into what to expect, but it doesn’t seem to be the case. Unseen and unpredicted illnesses crop up. Some people have long and healthy lives while others face a shortened span. Major illnesses occur in some lives and take years and years to run their course, while others are sick for very short periods of time before facing death. I’m sure that there are patterns of disease that are understood by medical researchers, but predictability is not part of the experience of a pastor.
It isn’t just illness. Some people discover a burst of enthusiasm for the church and become leaders whose impact remains for decades. They volunteer for many different positions and serve in many different ways. Others show a similar enthusiasm and then the enthusiasm fades. They participate for a period of time and then move on to other activities. Some of the every Sunday worshipers will be similarly involved years from now and others will be absent from the congregation a few months down the road. Couples whose marriages seem secure will experience divorce. Other couples, who seem to have more tenuous relationships will be married decades from now.
From my perspective, there is no predicting and when I do attempt to predict, I am often wrong. It is one of the joys of being a pastor. The congregation continues to surprise me. Life is never boring.
When I was much younger, I was passionate about my beliefs and convictions. I had studied a good deal of theology and understood some of how my beliefs fit into the thoughts of others and felt that I had a handle on classical theology and biblical interpretation. I considered myself to be a somewhat of an expert. I could be dismissive of those who had less education. I experienced a sense of certainty about some aspects of my faith. As I age, I have found that there is less certainty and more mystery. Things that seemed black and white years ago no longer appear to be that clear.
This reality requires a shift in my expectations. I think when I was younger that I thought that life would be a journey of moving closer to God. As I aged, I thought, I would grow in maturity and understanding until at the time of my death I would be nearly certain about the nature of God and secure in my relationship with God. In my experience, however, it doesn’t seem to work that way. Life’s journey certainly isn’t a straight road. The dance of faith and doubt doesn’t weigh in a single direction, but rather weaves and bobs and darts. It isn’t that I have less faith than was the case at some other point in my life. It is that my journey continues to require a great deal of faith. Faith never becomes certainty.
I am, however, a bit more comfortable with uncertainty than was the case when I was younger. Perhaps I am learning to trust. When I was young I was eager to convince others of my point of view. I spoke out and I tried to get others to change their minds. I saw certain interpretations of religion as dangers to be avoided and was quick to argue. I still am not shy about offering my opinion, but I’ve learned to be a bit better at listening more carefully to the opinions of others.
I am no longer certain that I know exactly what I believe and why I hold those beliefs. It seems that belief is a living entity, growing and changing as I travel through this life’s journey.
As I write a colleague of mine lies close to death. For many years we worked closely together striving to craft worship for our congregation. We didn’t always agree, but the differences of perspective helped us to produce better experiences than we might have produced working separately. We each freely offered our gifts and together with others framed and formed worship each week. Our life together was not without tensions. Sometimes I was not as articulate in expressing my gratitude for the contributions of my colleague as that person desired. Feelings were sometimes hurt when decisions went in a different direction than was desired. Sometimes the tensions bubbled up in ways that seemed inappropriate. We weren’t always the best at communicating with each other. Now, as this transition of life approaches, I have a few regrets. I wish I had been better at saying “thank you.” I wish I could have found ways to bring more attention to the contributions of my colleague.
Regardless of my personal feelings, my colleague has never been absent from my prayers. I have wished the best for this person and I have prayed for peace and release from suffering. I am grateful that my colleague is in God’s hands. I’m way beyond wishing to shape that person’s faith to be more similar to mine. I hope and believe that my colleague possesses faith sufficient for the present journey.
The situation will leave unanswered questions in my mind. Not everything in life can be wrapped into a neat package.
In “Thoughts in Solitude” Thomas Merton offers a prayer that seems appropriate for my colleague. It also seems appropriate for me. Perhaps it is a prayer that anyone could pray:
"My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always, though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone."
It isn’t just illness. Some people discover a burst of enthusiasm for the church and become leaders whose impact remains for decades. They volunteer for many different positions and serve in many different ways. Others show a similar enthusiasm and then the enthusiasm fades. They participate for a period of time and then move on to other activities. Some of the every Sunday worshipers will be similarly involved years from now and others will be absent from the congregation a few months down the road. Couples whose marriages seem secure will experience divorce. Other couples, who seem to have more tenuous relationships will be married decades from now.
From my perspective, there is no predicting and when I do attempt to predict, I am often wrong. It is one of the joys of being a pastor. The congregation continues to surprise me. Life is never boring.
When I was much younger, I was passionate about my beliefs and convictions. I had studied a good deal of theology and understood some of how my beliefs fit into the thoughts of others and felt that I had a handle on classical theology and biblical interpretation. I considered myself to be a somewhat of an expert. I could be dismissive of those who had less education. I experienced a sense of certainty about some aspects of my faith. As I age, I have found that there is less certainty and more mystery. Things that seemed black and white years ago no longer appear to be that clear.
This reality requires a shift in my expectations. I think when I was younger that I thought that life would be a journey of moving closer to God. As I aged, I thought, I would grow in maturity and understanding until at the time of my death I would be nearly certain about the nature of God and secure in my relationship with God. In my experience, however, it doesn’t seem to work that way. Life’s journey certainly isn’t a straight road. The dance of faith and doubt doesn’t weigh in a single direction, but rather weaves and bobs and darts. It isn’t that I have less faith than was the case at some other point in my life. It is that my journey continues to require a great deal of faith. Faith never becomes certainty.
I am, however, a bit more comfortable with uncertainty than was the case when I was younger. Perhaps I am learning to trust. When I was young I was eager to convince others of my point of view. I spoke out and I tried to get others to change their minds. I saw certain interpretations of religion as dangers to be avoided and was quick to argue. I still am not shy about offering my opinion, but I’ve learned to be a bit better at listening more carefully to the opinions of others.
I am no longer certain that I know exactly what I believe and why I hold those beliefs. It seems that belief is a living entity, growing and changing as I travel through this life’s journey.
As I write a colleague of mine lies close to death. For many years we worked closely together striving to craft worship for our congregation. We didn’t always agree, but the differences of perspective helped us to produce better experiences than we might have produced working separately. We each freely offered our gifts and together with others framed and formed worship each week. Our life together was not without tensions. Sometimes I was not as articulate in expressing my gratitude for the contributions of my colleague as that person desired. Feelings were sometimes hurt when decisions went in a different direction than was desired. Sometimes the tensions bubbled up in ways that seemed inappropriate. We weren’t always the best at communicating with each other. Now, as this transition of life approaches, I have a few regrets. I wish I had been better at saying “thank you.” I wish I could have found ways to bring more attention to the contributions of my colleague.
Regardless of my personal feelings, my colleague has never been absent from my prayers. I have wished the best for this person and I have prayed for peace and release from suffering. I am grateful that my colleague is in God’s hands. I’m way beyond wishing to shape that person’s faith to be more similar to mine. I hope and believe that my colleague possesses faith sufficient for the present journey.
The situation will leave unanswered questions in my mind. Not everything in life can be wrapped into a neat package.
In “Thoughts in Solitude” Thomas Merton offers a prayer that seems appropriate for my colleague. It also seems appropriate for me. Perhaps it is a prayer that anyone could pray:
"My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always, though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone."