Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for April, 2016

I stopped by the church the other day. It was a Thursday morning and I figured if you weren’t out golfing, I would be able to catch a minute or two with you. I wanted to give you a piece of my mind concerning how you failed to visit my mother when she was in the hospital last week.

But you were not at your desk. Though the light was on, as I peered in your office window I was miffed to find you not there. I continued down the hallway, ready to demand your whereabouts from anyone I came across. But the hallway was empty so I turned back around intending to head home. That’s when I saw it.

The door to your office was ajar slightly. And from this new angle I caught just a glimpse of you there, in the corner of your office, on your knees. Praying. Praying fervently. I could see the beads of sweat. Or was that a tear?

Pastor, I caught a glimpse of your heart that day. You were praying for us, weren’t you? Praying for the church you lead, praying for the people whom God has entrusted you with, praying for vision and wisdom and direction. Do you do that often? I now have an inkling that you do.

That’s why I had to write this letter. Because I don’t say ‘thank you’ enough.

Thank you.

Thank you for the sweat, tears and prayers. Thank you for being a godly pastor, with a deep love for God and His people. Thank you for taking your responsibility to our church seriously. Thank you for seeking vision from God and then working tirelessly to try and get us to also catch the vision, equipping us as the Bible says to make that vision a reality. Thank you for taking the brunt of any attacks that come upon our church and of any problems that arise within our church. Thank you for dealing with paperwork and red tape and interruptions all week long in the midst of studying, sermon preparation, counseling, calling, mentoring and working to equip your people.

You wear many hats, don’t you? Many that most of us never see…

So I want to tell you this: I respect you and I honor you as our leader and I will follow your lead as you teach us and equip us, spurring us on to know, love and serve God better, helping us to live lives of faith and make a difference in our community. I will support your leadership as pastor of our church. You have been faithful to God and to our church for years now.

I will not assume the grass is greener on the other side. In fact, I’m working to cut back my assumptions all together. I will refrain from church gossip or hearsay. If I have a question for you or a problem with you, I will come directly to you rather than discussing it with everyone else. Moreover, I will encourage others to do the same. I will not church hop with every new fad or when difficulties in our church family arise. I won’t drum up excuses to stay home when another pastor or guest speaker comes for a Sunday or two. I will make it a priority to join in corporate worship weekly and to get involved in the life of the church. And I will pray. I will pray, too, pastor. I will pray for you and your family and the other leaders in our church.

Thank you, pastor. Thank you.


 

This was originally conceived nearly a half dozen years ago now. My initial idea was to voice it over a video to share one October for Pastor Appreciation month. That never happened. In the summer of 2012, I finally sat and wrote this out and I gave it to my pastor. I am thankful now that I did…

The opening part is fictional. It is simply a story framework (albeit based on conversations heard during my many years of church attendance and service) that is utilized to convey the important content. And though it did not happen as described in the opening story, I have indeed caught glimpses of the hearts of my pastors. Glimpses that inspired this writing, this stated gratitude, this affirmed support. We most of us too often miss what is behind the words spoken and interactions had on Sunday mornings. 

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

My mind is a very active place.

There is almost always conversation going on there.
With myself and/or with God.

So it was that yesterday afternoon while I was busy unloading from my work day and errands—putting groceries here, emptying my lunchbox there, taking my needed-for-the-chilly-morning scarf back to my bedroom—I was thinking about the new tonic my parents retrieved for me from my D.O.’s office that afternoon while I handled the other errands.

And I was hopeful.

I often am in such cases.

After all, it was my doctor who inquired about unmentioned symptoms as I was relating to her what was most bothersome at the time of my last visit. I had been flabbergasted at her pinpoint accuracy. And I was excited as she mentioned this new supplement of sorts that would not interfere with my current protocols. And I became even more excited as she described how the symptoms and body functions were all so interconnected and how this new tonic could promote healing.

But I didn’t leave with a bottle of it that day.
Instead I left with reading and research to review.

She also knows me well enough to know that I like to look into thing before jumping in.
(Well, for the most part…)

But the problem was that the paperwork ended up on that pile where everything important goes even though I’m too overwhelmed by putting out other fires to actually get to the important, if not urgent things…

Dr. Rahn and Covey tried to warn me about that…

Still, a month later those “also” symptoms had increased and I was becoming more and more convinced of my doctor’s connections and after being very knocked-off-my-feet sick for near a week and a half, in my increasing desperation, I grabbed the paperwork and a few minutes to read through it.

Then I called my doctor’s office. Do I get it through you or where? When are you open?

The next day my parents made the next-town-over run while I picked up a different prescription and our groceries for the week.

I got home just in time for dinner which meant just in time for my first dose.

And as I was here and there handling those just-got-home tasks, I was hopeful.

I was imagining the healing that could come as this little tonic works to fix something deep within my body that would allow my body to function and heal as God designed it to do.

I was thinking of better days.
Relief from a myriad of symptoms.

And then I was thinking about brokenness.
And this ongoing conversation between me, myself and God regarding my frail body, brokenness and healing.

Brokenness can be good.
Necessary.
Beautiful.
A way in which God works wonders… for my benefit or to benefit others. Often both.

“I’m okay being broken,” the voice in my head declared.

I mean, what if this stuff doesn’t work?
But I still want it to…

“I’m okay being broken… But I’d like it to at least be manageable.”

 

Before the words had finished echoing through the chambers of my mind, I laughed out loud.

For I suddenly saw the absurdity.

“I’m okay being broken for you, God, so long as I can control how my brokenness looks and affects me.”

“I’ll surrender to you, God, so long as I can still have my way.”

That’s not how this works.

And again I am confronted by my own need to control.
To hold on tightly…
… even to what was never really meant to be mine.

And again I hear God’s whisper, “Let it go.”

Let it go.

Can I surrender my brokenness?
Can I trust the Faithful One even when I am at a loss, falling apart, and not anywhere near what I had wanted?

I still want the tonic to work, of course.

But even more so, I want to continue seeing and hearing these revelations as God works through some deep places in my life and continue responding and letting go and trusting Him.

Read Full Post »