renewal leave – Salvaged Faith

What are you even doing here?

Posted on January 27, 2020Leave a comment

I am exactly nine days into my renewal leave and I had a dream last night about an Administrative Council meeting.

I was back at church with all of those familiar faces, reconnecting and catching up and it was wonderful… only something was terribly wrong.

I wasn’t supposed to be there.

Last night, in reality, there was an Ad Council meeting at church and I didn’t actually go. We have great capable leaders and they are awesome without me.

But in my dream… I was there.

In my dream, I had stopped by for some reason or another. And I kept talking with people. I kept answering questions. And before I knew it, I looked at the clock and it was 10:15 pm!

I remembering a feeling of intense panic. I was on renewal leave. I wasn’t supposed to be there. I was supposed to be home with my spouse and I had completely blown him off. I turned to a colleague who was sitting next to me with terror all over my face. He looked at me, partly with pity and partly with frustration. “What are you even doing here?” he asked.

One of the things that I find incredibly difficult is disconnecting from work. Because I love it. Because I’m good at it. Because it feels good, even when it is stressful, to help other people and make things work the way they should.

So far, I confess, on this renewal leave I have checked my email once.

I was looking quickly for responses to a very last minute proposal I had about changing a meeting date when I returned. I wanted to see what the responses were so I could communicate the date change with my family.

But I also glanced and saw a notification from the hospital about a church member who had been admitted. The feelings of guilt started to creep in. What if they need me? What if no one shows up? What if, heaven forbid, someone dies while I’m gone? I had to pray to God for peace and talk myself down for about an hour. “This is why you left them in the absolutely capable hands of an amazing colleague… Even Jesus took breaks… You are not the be-all and end-all of the care system at that church… Even if you miss a funeral while you are away, that doesn’t mean that you can’t still provide care when you get back...”

But there was also that pesky internal critic: “See, this is why you shouldn’t check your email when you are supposed to be on break. It sets you on a tailspin of wanting to be there and respond and make it all better. And that’s not what this time is about.”

And you know what… that internal critic is right. There do need to be boundaries between my church life and my home life. I need to be able to have some dedicated space carved out for sabbath and family and renewal – not just during these four weeks, but every week. Every day, really.

For years I have had a signature line on my email that reads, “Fridays and Saturdays are my Sabbath days. I look forward to responding when I am back in the office on Monday.”

But in the past year, have I actually stopped checking my email on the weekends? Have I been holding firmly to that boundary?

The week before I left, I sent a pretty important email to my SPRC chair. Before bed, I checked my email, saw he had responded, and shot off a reply.

And immediately I got another back. He said something to the effect of: Are you on call 24/7?

It was a reminder that the expectations I have been putting on myself are not the same as what the congregation actually needs or expects.

Or maybe it should have been heard more like that colleague in my dream, with pity and frustration: “What are you even doing here?”

There have been legitimate emergencies and exceptions in the course of my ministry that have called me away from my Sabbath and home time. The panicked texting of a teenager in the middle of the night who feels unsafe. The early morning trips to the hospital before a surgery to pray. The call on a Saturday afternoon that someone has died. Two entire weeks spent out of state for General Conference.

But an email is not an emergency.

A meeting I am not responsible for is not an excuse for breaking boundaries.

A text or voicemail that can wait until the next day is not a sufficient reason to give up time with friends or family.

And maybe in those spaces and those moments when I am tempted to show up or respond or engage I need to keep that voice in the back of my mind:

“What are you even doing here?“

That voice comes along with other questions like:

Why have you given this energy when it can wait?
Why are you sacrificing this time you have set aside for family?
Is this really about them? Or is it about you and your own need to feel needed?
What are you avoiding by choosing to spend your time this way?
Who else can help/support/respond?

I woke up from that dream with my heart in my throat. I’m anxious that this time of renewal and rejuvenation will simply result in a return to old patterns and behaviors.

I mean, I’ve never been five hours late home, like I was in this dream… but I have spent an entire evening only partially present: checking emails, responding to texts, thinking and pondering something that needed to be done the next day.

And when I’m in that space, the truth is, I’m not really home. Not fully, anyways.

So if nothing else, one of the things I want to carry back into the real world with me is the avoidance of that little voice: “What are you even doing here?”

And I think that I can prevent that question from needing to be asked by utilizing some tools that have been really helpful during this time away. Things like changing my notification settings on my phone so that emails don’t show up during evening hours. Or, putting my phone with my wallet instead of carrying it around all the time. Or removing the Facebook app from my phone. Honestly, its randomly coming across a pastoral care concern or a church polity question on facebook that often prompts me reaching out with an email or a text or response when it could legitimately wait until the next day.

I think remembering that little voice will hold me accountable to my boundaries. I think it will remind me that I don’t have to be “on” 24/7. I think it help me think of those who are impacted by where I choose to spend my energy – for good or for bad. There is a whole lot of truth jam-packed in that little question: “What are you even doing here?”

Salvaging Faith in 2020

Posted on January 22, 2020Leave a comment

It’s been a while.

A long time since I just sat down to write without a deadline looming.

Without it being someone else’s project.

Without the pressure to say just the right thing for a specific audience.

It’s been a long time since I wrote just for me.

I started this blog in the summer of 2007 as a place to reflect and muse and capture all of the parts of myself, my story, my tradition that were important to keep carrying with me into the future. In many ways, the idea of salvaging all of these pieces of faith were intended to be a way of curating ideas that had value and meaning and importance in my life.

It never really mattered if anyone else read these pages, although it has been really nice to have company along the way 🙂

But somewhere in the midst of the busyness of church and other people’s projects and my marriage I just stopped writing. I stopped reflecting. I stopped looking around and processing what was happening in my life in this particular way.

But I have some time now.

Monday began a four week renewal leave from my church and one of my primary goals was to spend some of my time right here at the keyboard. Not because there is anything important I have to say, but because the very act of thinking and writing and processing itself is a spiritual practice that has been missing from my journey.

The fact that it took me a day or two to actually sit down with the laptop says a little bit of something about the hesitation that I’m feeling about doing so. I think, in part, that is because so much of my life lately has revolved around the church. I’m afraid that if I sit down to write, I’ll just get sucked back in to it all. That I’ll lose my ability to truly disconnect for a few weeks and re-center myself in who I am.

So for now, here’s a list of things I’d like to write about:

How the Rooney Rule (and its mixed results) might provide guidance for the draft Book of Doctrines and Disciplines proposed by the WCA
Does wanting to preserve the parts of our connectional nature and structure that are working make me an institutionalist? And if so, can I live with / accept that label? What does it mean to salvage the best parts of who we are and take them with us into the future, instead of starting over?
Why I think the Protocol is our best option for the mission of the church to make disciples and transform the world
What I’ve learned about what it means to equip the saints… the hard way… from failing to do so and overfunctioning in a mid-sized church.

There.

Now those things are set to the side and off my mind. I might pick them back up in the next few weeks. Or maybe not.

After all, this leave is not about the UMC or my local church or my ministry there. It is about looking out at everything else in my life. My marriage, my family, my relationship with God, the things that make me laugh and feed my soul, my friendships. It is about taking some time to dig through everything else that makes me me and working to salvage the things I might have discarded or ignored or let lie fallow for a bit.

To pick up those pieces and put them back together in a way that feels whole and good and right.

And to relearn how to preserve and protect them so that when I head back to work, they don’t take a back burner.

The itch

Posted on July 7, 20152 Comments

Last week, I got into some poison ivy.

First, on the disc golf course as we were looking for a shot that was too long and in the rough. I noticed it after traipsing through.

Then, in my very own backyard. We had a gigantic bush of the stuff, all viney and spread out everywhere. I donned my long sleeved shirt and latex gloves and washed everything immediately after pulling the ivy out and tossing it in a garbage bag.

But 2-3 days later, the bumps have arrived. The itchy, red, gross bumps. A streak on my leg. Both of my wrists, a few fingers and a blotch on the top of one arm.

Last year, I covered myself with this pink itch relief cream, but in reality, it didn’t really help, so I’m toughing it out.

And here is what I have figured out: If I’m busy with something… if I’m watching television or writing or working out in the garden, I don’t notice the itch. But as soon as I stop, I can’t stop thinking about scratching!

I have had another itch as well. The itch to get back to work. And that itch has been a little bit stronger. Any time my mind is clear… as I’m pulling weeds or sitting at the computer waiting for inspiration to hit on the writing or driving in the car, I can’t stop thinking about what I’m going to do when I get back to Immanuel next week.

For me, that itch is much healthier. It is a sign that I’m doing the work I am called to do. It is a sign that this has been a good time away where I could clarify and focus on things in a new way. It is a sign that God has been in the midst of this time and that I need to honor the things I have discovered about myself, my relationships, and my calling when I return.

In fact, I had to make a list on my phone. Every time inspiration strikes, it goes on the list.

It helps soothe the itch for a while so I can get back to resting and renewing.

Resting in the gaps

Posted on June 15, 2015Leave a comment

A cup of coffee on the back porch.
Rain falling, gently at times, harder at others.

I do have a plan for this time away.
It is not vacation or down time, it is a time to practice different rhythms and see what grows.

I hoped to weed the garden this morning.

But the rain falls.

Lord knows I need some inactivity.
I need to sit.
I need to be.

So I have been watching the chipmunks play on the woodpile.

Yes, that woodpile.

In the next month, it will hopefully move to its permanent location and be settled there.

For now it remains right in front of my view on the back porch.

The chipmunks scamper and roam, dart in and out of crevices.

And they rest in the gaps.

They stop for a moment now and then.

They come to a stand still there in the spaces between the logs.

Sheltered from the rain, time to still their beating hearts, to plan and plot their next move.

Thank God for the spaces and gaps in our lives. Thank God for times of renewal and rest.