As any reader of this blog would be fully aware, my life took a serious left turn a few years ago. But even before that, I was curving away from the mainstream in regards to how I lived out my (then) life purpose of pastoral ministry. As any long-time reader of this blog would be aware, my ministry path continued to take one step after another away from traditional approaches to ministry and toward bolder and less secure approaches. As I kept reaching for more innovative and risky ways to serve, the ability to actually early a living at ministry gradually faded away. Eventually, in regards to pastoral ministry as a career, I found myself on the outside-looking-in. Again, I'm totally cool with that. In fact, I'd likely make the same choices again, were I given a second chance. In the spring of 2016, when I realized my connection to the inner-city church by our home wasn't going to work out and that I wasn't willing to drive out of the city to be a part of a healthy church within my denomination, I turned in my ordination credentials due to inactivity. Of course, I was also pretty sure a divorce was approaching over the horizon, so I preferred to face that life change without the pressures of denominational expectations.
My peace with where I currently find myself, however doesn't nullify the sense of bewilderment and disillusionment that comes with experiencing such a dramatic shift in purpose and identity. I started preparing for pastoral ministry at the age of 16. I went to college for it. Then seminary. I chose a wife based, partly, upon our compatibility as ministry partners. All of that has changed, however and I'm now in the process of forging a new identity and purpose. Hopefully, it's an identity shaped less around what I do and more around who I am, as His kid.
It's pointless to lament the past. It's worthwhile to be faithful in the present. To fully embrace where I am at this moment. I'm learning the benefit of taking a long view of things; a long obedience over a lifetime. Hence the new name of my blog, which is actually a play upon the title of a book by Eugene Peterson.
I've found an amazing church. I'm not too involved yet, but I'll slowly wiggle myself into the community and shared mission. The church is pastored by a friend from seminary and, even better, two families that both Dawson and I count as some of our closest friends are a part of this church.
I've recently connected with Free Hot Soup Johnson County, which serves food to homeless people on Monday nights at a park a few blocks from my place.
In just about every way other than finances, as I'm still digging out of a bit of a hole while trying to expand my client base, I've almost completely recovered from the trauma of the divorce. I was having a beer with a close friend the other night when he came to the exact same conclusion. If anyone would be able to recognize whether or not I've recovered, it's this friend, whom I've known for decades and with whom I went on a significant roadtrip several years ago; a trip in which my dark cloud of despair and hopelessness was the third passenger in his SUV. He turned to me and said, "It's good to see you laugh. You seem to be back to your old self again."
In some ways he's right. In other ways, a new self has emerged. I assume that's normal for anyone as they progress through life (have I mentioned I turn 40 in just over two months?) but even more so for someone who experiences a dramatic life change.
Even as something new emerges, a constant to which I still turn is words; my ability to express myself in ways that often helps other people. Just the other day, I was at a happy hour with a 23 year old guy who played football and performed in show choir at a rival high school, though we just missed being competitors by a mere two decades... Anyway, this single
In fact, that's why I started blogging about this post-divorce journey in the first place, so my words could bring healing to others while simultaneously bringing healing to myself. I'm writing what I wish I could've read three years ago, while struggling to breathe from all the pain and loss and shame. I would've loved to have heard from someone whose marriage had died but whose relationship with God and with most of his friends survived.
So maybe this amateur blogger turns into an amateur writer, as in a book about my divorce and recovery. To the delight of my sister, who's been encouraging me to do this, I've put together a preliminary chapter outline. Maybe it becomes the major project of my first year in a new decade of life. Stay tuned...
Finally, I'll admit that ministry (as in a staff position at a church or other ministry) isn't totally out of the question. I'm positive, though that I could never again assume the role of a traditional pastor, that's simply not going to happen, for various reasons. I also know it would be in a different denomination than in which I grew up. A few years ago, at the prompting of the pastor, I interviewed for a position with a Methodist church. During the interview, I thought it wise to be honest with the pastor interviewing me about my marriage existing in a rocky and unsure place. In response to my honesty, the pastor offered some reassurance by stating that while he'd never been involved with a Church of the Nazarene (having spent all of his post-conversion years in the Methodist Church) he spoke from his experience with Nazarene friends in stating, "Methodists seem to be more accepting of their pastor's humanity, as a rule, than are Nazarenes."
Imperfection. Humanity. Yep, that's me all right. Here's to my spending this human life living out a long obedience in (mostly) the same direction.
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