On Vocation, Gifts, and Calling: Part 1

Recently I've been thinking a lot about vocation, the deepest invitation to participate in God's mission in the world in meaningful and faithful ways.

The pursuit of vocational clarity has actually been lifelong. From the first inklings of a call to ministry while portraying the prodigal son in a fourth grade musical through a change in college major to more recent retooling for nonprofit and nursing home administration, I've sought to align my employment with God's blessing of who I am (vocation). 

Vocation still remains somewhat elusive, and I was compelled to explore the question further during the recent five year ordination renewal process in our denomination. Ordination in our tradition is understood as vocation tied to employment; to be ordained one must be personally called by God, affirmed by the church, and have a functional position through which to live out that call.

For some ministers the requirement to link vocation with employment can prove distressing. At this point in my life, my call to ministry is inherent in my work, but not explicitly linked to ordination. As a development and fundraising officer in a Christian retirement community, my work is about raising money. As a minister, that same work is about tending people's soul journey. It always is. 

The need to once again affirm my calling to ministry, show my continuing education, demonstrate vocation linked to employment, and renew the covenants which I originally made with the church over 27 years ago might have seemed like a no-brainer to many. In fact, many pastors and ministers treat the renewal process as just one more hoop to jump through in order to maintain their status. I know, because in the past I have, too.

This renewal period, however, led to harder discernment on my part. What is my vocation? How is God calling me to be of use in this world? What are the deeper passions of my life? Where might I best live out my faith, and under what circumstances?

In addition to those somewhat esoteric questions, I also was confronted with some more specific, contextual dilemmas. Is the Church of the Brethren as it's currently focused a tradition that I can continue to align with? Given my experiences in and treatment by leadership in the church, is this a body that I can safely continue to be accountable to? Have I failed God and the church in ways which would preclude the continuation of my leadership?

These questions, coupled with ongoing efforts to expand my skill set and employability, compelled me to reflect intensely on the ordination review process. The unsettledness in my spirit needed to be addressed before responding to the rote inquiries of the renewal process. It would have been easier to simply check the boxes, but it wouldn't have been faithful.

After a long period of procrastination and discernment, I did complete the required documents. I also included an unsolicited letter detailing some of my wrestling. Over the next few blog posts, I will share the essence of that letter and further explore questions of vocation, gifts, and calling. 

Faith for me is about surrender and alignment. I surrender to the will of God and seek, to the best of my ability, to align my life with that will. Sometimes I fail completely, or fall short in part. Sometimes those shortcomings are a result of sin. Sometimes those shortcomings are a lack of adequate discernment. Sometimes those shortcomings are simply the hidden mysteries of God, into which I move even without absolute clarity, so not shortcomings as much as faithful stumbles. 

In the end, however, I constantly strive to know the call of God on my life, to recognize and cultivate the gifts God has blessed me with, and to pursue meaningful activities of work and ministry. Whether I can see clearly or not, God remains constant and clear. And so God gives me the faith, courage, and hope to carry on.

The Rush to Adapt

I don't write on this blog very often these days. More precisely, I should say I don't publish on the blog. I often use it to write out my thoughts and then self-edit from going public. There's enough muck on the interwebs.

Yesterday, however, I posed a question on my Facebook page for which I received many thoughtful responses. It seems only fair that I wrestle with the questions myself and share a bit of the internal turmoil which led to the asking. Here's the post I shared:

With the closures of public gatherings due to Covid 19, I'm just curious about the rush by churches to put things online. 

Have any churches considered taking this time as sabbath rest? What are the psychological forces that are driving this urgency to broadcast services, especially for churches that have never done it? What is within this impulse to "keep going"? What, if anything, does it reveal about our spiritual lives? What, if anything, does it imply about the vitality of the church? 

These are earnest questions; I'm not being critical of the effort, but I am wondering....

First, some truth in disclosure. I work from home probably 90 percent of the time. My public and social patterns basically consist of going to an office once a week, church choir practice and weekly worship (sometimes 2x on Sunday), a regular breakfast with a mentor/friend, an occasional date night with my wife, and errands. Largely this pattern is due to the fact that I am the primary daytime support/caregiver for our 24 year old son with Williams Syndrome. Where I go, he goes, and where he goes I go, with some exceptions. This includes doctor visits, Special Olympics sporting events, and other related activities. So at a very basic level, Covid-19 social distancing simply feels like an extension of my daily life. I image it does for others as well.

Another thing to know before reading on is that I'm an ordained minister and have worked in the church in some capacity for nearly my entire life. I'm a "company man" as it may be. I have a love/hate relationship with the church; I've experienced both the best and the worst. I've also contributed to both the best and the worst, which is a humbling reality.

Currently I am active in two local congregations. I admire, love, and respect the pastors of each congregation. I work closely with both pastors, especially in the area of worship, and have been a support and colleague for the one that's a church plant since its inception. I implicitly trust the leadership and faithfulness of each of these Godly women. In fact, I trust all the leadership in both these congregations. Those in leadership are wise and thoughtful, prayerful and devoted, kind and generous, courageous and just.

Each of these congregations has, necessarily and with intentionality, joined the myriad of churches and other social/civic/religious organizations who are voluntarily suspending group meetings in response to Covid-19. Each has said that some church functions, including worship, will continue online. Neither has regular practices of sharing online worship, although both use videoconferencing on some occasions for church meetings.

So, please understand that my questions are not critical. They are, however, nagging. Here's my list:

1. Is poor-to-moderate use of technology better than taking a few weeks off? 
2. Have we thought about how privilege and online church are related? What about those without internet, or computers, or smart phones, or knowledge of how to use these things? (Shout out to Oakland CoB and Pastor John Sgro where I understand they will be going to members and teaching them how to participate online!)
3. How will people who are always isolated feel when the church mobilizes so many resources to make sure that the never/rarely-isolated don't have to enter that space? What could we who are more able learn by entering the space of those less able for at least a little while?
4. Are we so dependent on the church for our weekly fix that we don't have personal resources for sustainable faith? Has our church gathering become more about each other than about God?
5. Does the institutional church always need to be organizing the Church in order for the Church to fulfill its mission? 
6. Have pastors examined their need to be in front of the "flock," to be interpreting the Word, to be seen? Like I said, I've been a pastor; I know the ego struggle.
7. Since people will be confined more, it's likely that they'll be staring at screens more; should the church also ask them to stare at a screen?
8. If people don't show up to the online sessions, what kind of censuring will there be? You know someone will be counting heads. How will the church respond to those people? If someone doesn't want to join in, how will the church make them feel?  
9. Is the church actually capable of offering the kinds of emotional, spiritual, and physical support that it seeks to provide through this medium? I'm not sure we're ready, although I'm confident God is.

Alternatively, I celebrate many of the things that I know from my two local congregations. Lest you think I'm only a skeptic, here are some of those things:

1. Our local church leaders are acting with the best intentions under extremely stressful and unusual circumstances. They are doing this prayerfully and thoughtfully.
2. God is pleased with the depth of our concern and the earnestness of our efforts, and where our efforts run short, God will make up the difference.
3. We all will have a chance to examine the core of our motivations, strength, humility, and faith.
4. Relatedly to #3, we have a wonderful opportunity to learn and grow spiritually through this time.
5. Churches which have wanted to better utilize video technology will have a reason to try it and refine it, and skeptics won't really be in a position to oppose it (for a few weeks).
6. The church will perhaps be reminded of the depth of isolation that already exists in our culture, and emerge recommitted to acting to address the reality.
7. Our interconnectedness will be reinforced, our need for one another and our desire to be in community will be rekindled, and our actions will be provoked toward openness and embrace.
8. We will continue to care for one another under trying conditions. We will show that God's love cannot be defeated, isolated, or consumed by a virus.

Those are some of my thoughts. I probably also should say that I'm an introvert by nature, so the prospect of being alone is welcome, not frightening. Additionally, this period of social distancing doesn't mean I get any time off work; I work from home most of the time anyway, remember?! And finally, I have three of my five immediate family members who interact with a wider public on a daily basis - my wife works in a daycare and my two youngest kids work in consumer goods retail (Meijer and Dollar Tree - it's been a crazy couple of days! And, no, they don't have any toilet paper and I don't know when the truck is arriving). So any good word and prayer you'd like to lift would be appreciated. 

This was a long post. Thanks for reading. Take care of one another. Comments are welcome; please use your name.

Stepping Out: Unexpected Thoughts on Being an Entrepreneur

When I resigned from my job in April, I assumed that I would find another job within an organization. I immediately began exploring possibilities where I could use my years of organizational experience and a newly minted certificate in nonprofit management in an executive management position.

I was excited about the changes, and nervous about how to translate my church-based experience into other fields of leadership, but I was confident that my work background, skill set, personal profile, education and references would open opportunities for me. And although job searches in today's work environment are arduous and largely impersonal, there has been some progress. No job, but what feels like progress.

One day along the journey I had a person suggest to me that I start my own business. My laughter could be heard down the hallway! But that laughter turned into consideration, and the consideration led to imagination, and imagination led to consultation, and consultation led to articulation, and articulation is being converted into action. I am starting my own business. Are you laughing now?!?

Since some of you might also be in transition, I thought I'd offer some of my thought process. Maybe it will help you. If you'd like, I'd be glad to talk with you more directly. Drop me a line.

Here are some of the thoughts that I've wrestled with along the way. I'm pretty sure my wrestling is not done.

Point: I don't have much to offer. Even though I have rich and varied leadership experience, there is a nagging sense that such experience is not really experience. I've had great staff members to cover my backside. It's hard to point to the specific skill sets that distinguish me.

Counterpoint: My experience and education are unique and profound. I am frequently surprised when practices and concepts about leadership and organizations that for me are intuitive are heard as new (and helpful) ideas by others.

Point: I am not an entrepreneur. I've always worked in organizations with a set job description and lots of bosses. I don't know anything about starting something from scratch.

Counterpoint: My whole life has been entrepreneurial. Within the context of my jobs, I have always been a creator, initiator and developer. Each of my jobs required major changes, and it was an entrepreneurial spirit which helped me thrive in those situations.

Point: I am at the wrong point in my life to risk self-employment. While my wife and I share the income burden, I have always been the primary wage-earner. Insurance, retirement savings, paid vacation and the like are all part of the work culture that we count on.

Counterpoint: There will never be a better or right time to take the risk. This is my mid-life. Well designed and astutely managed self-employment will be different, but it is not impossible. We will learn to adapt to a different financial flow to our lives.

Point: I am a team player and this is an individual sport. It will depend wholly on me, and I work better in teams and as a leader of groups.

Counterpoint: Already I see that I will not be alone. There are several wise advisers walking with me. There are potential partnerships emerging. I will able to use my passion for working collaboratively to bring people together.

Point: I don't have my act together. I am a flawed and limited human. I have weaknesses and vulnerabilities. I am unsure at times. My brain doesn't always work the way I want it to when I want it to.

Counterpoint: I don't have my act together. I, like the people and organizations I work with, am a flawed and limited human. I, like those I serve, have weaknesses and vulnerabilities. I, like those I would encourage, am unsure at times. Amazingly, my brain still works, and in mysterious, unique and wonderful ways.

There are, of course, other points of concern. Where will the business come from, especially that first contract or two? How will I respond when things don't go as planned? Will I be able to focus? Will the work become too consuming?

But the possibilities are too great to ignore, the calling too strong to shrug off. I love helping others perform at their best. I have a passion for healthy organizations and a deep understanding of how leadership fosters that health. I like questions, big, hard, complex questions alongside simple obvious ones. I have a unique view of how artistry impacts leadership, a perspective cultivated as a musician and bureaucrat.

So here I am at a crossroads in life I never anticipated. How I got here is still a bit of a blur, and where it ends up is definitely hidden around the corner. The current vantage point, however, holds a clear vision. It is a vision for how artistry leads and how blessed I'll be to help others find that synergy. 

The myth of "self care"

For decades, well-meaning people have told me to take care of myself. Often it's the common, innocuous parting wish, simply stated "take care." When I am not well, it's offered as a more immediate concern, "take care of yourself," meaning "do what you can to become well again." Other times it has been offered as a philosophical admonition to participate in ongoing activities which signify self care: eat right, exercise, rest, love, participate in life-giving activities, pray, etc.

This latter instruction has actually become a nauseating mantra, popularized I think by the baby boomers, but readily adopted by most generations. Not surprisingly, it has also been adopted by the church.

Perhaps the most frequent refrain that is repeated to pastors is "take care of yourself." The line of thinking goes something like this: you have to be responsible for your own well-being, ALL aspects of your well-being. If you are responsible and take care of yourself, you will be a good pastor; if you don't, most likely you'll end up a burnt out, failed, or fallen pastor.

Same mantra goes for parents. "Take care of yourself" so that you can support your spouse better and be fully present in your children's lives. And it goes for us as employees as well. "Take care of yourself" so that you can be at your best when the pressure is on in the workplace.

I believe this sentiment. We need to have self-responsibility. We need to take action in our own lives to support our own well-being.

But I also don't agree with a word of it. Nothing I do is ever isolated enough to consist solely of self-care. If self care were to be true, I wouldn't be married, wouldn't have kids, couldn't be part of a church, couldn't pursue gainful employment, and couldn't enjoy avocations. Unless of course I'm an entirely narcissistic person, which no-one who ever tells me to practice self care would endorse.

The truth is that I get to make very few choices based exclusively on the need for self care. When I make food choices, because I share meals with my family on a daily basis, they are actually family decisions. When I choose to go for a run, I do so with a keen understanding that this choice will affect the daily rhythm of my family's life. When I say I need rest, someone, somewhere is not getting time or attention that they need equally significantly. If I go on retreat, I am shifting the burden of daily responsibility to others.

As the father of a special needs child, now young adult, the idea of self-care is almost laughable. When I run out of energy to deal with Ben, I can't just "turn him off" and go on a retreat. At best my wife and I can secure a respite caregiver to spend a few hours or even a few days without him, but during that time we'll receive at least 50 phone calls from him and live with the lingering fear that something will go dramatically awry. When it does go awry, there is no choice but to deal with it, irrespective of my need to "take care."

As I said earlier, the church repeats this mantra to its leaders all the time. It's one of the cardinal rules of pastoral ministry and church leadership. "Take care of yourself." What I've seen most often, however, is that the church's needs almost always supercede any effort a leader makes at "self care."

What do I mean? Let me count the ways. Financially. Take care of yourself, but we will pay you only what we can, not what you need. Time. Take the time you need for yourself, but only after you have met our needs, and only until we need something else from you (pastors "on call" during vacation). Family. Make sure your spousal relationship is strong, but don't forget you're married to the church. Don't neglect your children, but don't forget they're in the spotlight right alongside you. Spiritual life. Pray, read scripture, retreat, but mostly when it's convenient for us and in the end for our benefit. Behave. Always maintain composure and professionalism, even though the church will protect people who behave atrociously toward you. Play nicely. You must "take care" so that you can function transformatively in an organization that refuses to deal with its own shortcomings, pathologies, and sin.

I'm sure there are more.

I recently wrote a blog post about care. You can read it here if you haven't already. But it's not self care. It's community care. It's friend care. It's the grace-filled care of God.

We DO need to find better ways to take care, to take care of each other. Instead of a congregation telling it's pastor to use his/her vacation, how about building a strategy with the pastor so that the vacation is actually refreshing. Give them extra money to spend. Make sure there are alternative pastoral coverage people in place. Ask them to turn off their cell phone, and covenant not to leave urgent messages. Plan to complete work that needs to be done while they're away, not just put if off to double the load when they return. Mow their lawn and feed their pets. Stock their refrigerator for when they return.



What ways does your church care for its pastor/s? What other ways can you think of? I know some churches are working hard at shared care already. What can we learn from you?

Like I said, my beef with self care is not intended to get us off the hook for making better choices and following through. But I do think we need to examine how our ideas of self care are embedded in our culture's selfish and self-serving defaults, and how self care is at odds with a Christian perspective on relationships. Rather than a call to abandon self care, there's an opportunity for us to pick up shared care. There are lots of words for these alternatives to self care: compassion, friendship, covenant, mutuality, community, love.


It's a very rare day or hour that I feel capable and privileged enough to practice self care. The rest of the time, the vast majority of the time, I absolutely cannot do it alone. I wish we could stop pretending that we can take care of ourselves. I pray that we will stop putting the pressure on one another to take care of ourselves. Instead, let's take care of one another, extending grace and caring support so that together we might be well.

Difficult examination

Many reflections on the recent Church of the Brethren Annual Conference have found their way onto blogs, facebook, email lists, and into private conversations, public forums, and virtually every avenue of communication. The reactions have been varied, nearly as widely as the breadth of perspective on the issues that made up our business, notably human sexuality, climate change, a resolution against the war in Afghanistan, and the election of leaders.

I myself have felt like much of what needs to be said is being said, but I do have one observation that for me signifies the deep sense of sadness I felt about this gathering of Brethren.

Wednesday morning worship was attended by fewer than two thirds of the registered conference attenders.

Why do I think this matters? For a number of reasons.

First, I believe it shows that worship as a priority for the Brethren is down on the list. Way down. When there is better attendance and passion for business sessions than there is for gathering to honor God and tend to our relationship with God, then we have a problem. After the week we had, could there have been anything that we needed more than a reminder that we are God's people, the sheep of God's pasture, not because of what we've done, but because of who God is?! Where did so many people go?

Second, I believe the lack of attendance shows that many Brethren attended this conference not for an encounter with God or with other Brethren, but primarily to promote their agenda. And I do mean their agenda. Making the effort to get to Grand Rapids was about political pragmatism, not spiritual activism. We learn this type of politics from the world: getting the vote out, caucusing our position, maneuvering for power. Worship is a spiritual activity that we can't learn from the world: confession, grace, hope, waiting, surrender, servanthood. It felt to me that many early departers had little interest in this spiritual activity.

Third, I believe that lack of attendance shows a disrespect for leadership, an unwillingness to be led through the service of our staff and volunteers. I don't view it primarily as disrespect for the morning's preacher, our General Secretary and my immediate supervisor Stan Noffsinger, at least not fundamentally. Rather, I see it as a posture toward leadership that only allows for leadership when it serves our own predetermined purposes. That actually sounds more like prostitution than leadership. The lack of leadership that is often referred to in the church may be true; but, the void of followership seems to me to be even greater, as evidenced in the mass exodus prior to closing worship. We don't want to be led by one another; do we really want to be led by God?

Some will say that it is typical that the last morning of conference sees a lot of early departures, with cursory business items and "only" worship to cap the conference. I myself have left early in the past to catch an earlier flight, beat the traffic, or hurry home to my family after a week away. I'm rethinking that now, though, because it is becoming clearer to me where part of our problem lies. Even in our primary gathering of Brethren, we are so focused on our own agendas, schedules, and comfortable life locations that we casually excuse ourselves from the worship of God, rejecting the shared voice, heart, prayer, and posture that rehearses once again that God is God and we are God's people.

I'm examining myself on all these questions. Is worship, is God a priority for me? Am I functioning out of spiritual guidance or political positioning? Do I really want to be led by God? Am I willing to follow wise counsel and gifted leadership of my sisters and brothers? Tough questions; difficult examination.

If you made it this far in this blog, you may be saying, "But I was there. It is a priority for me." Thank you. We need each other to stay committed, to keep our priorities ordered. And I may need you to remind me why it is important to stick around for closing worship at Annual Conference next year!