There's been a significant drop off in the volume of blog posts in the last two years. 2010 was sparse, to say the least. While I'd make the case for quality rather than quantity, I think the level of written output is an indicator of other things.
As I look at my dashboard, I see a surprising number of drafts never published. Impressive posts begun here, the incomplete display of profundity there. (ha!)
My ability to bring coherence to issues for which a real time response was called for was sorely lacking in 2010. It's not that I haven't had thoughts about many things. I didn't have energy to see it through. A fragmented life will always yield distraction.
But I'm not going to beat myself up about it though (there's plenty other things about which I can). True enough, a relentless pursuit for relevance can veer easily into the absurd. And I'm often on the line of the absurd anyway.
So I end the year with one more post. One of self awareness that there were decent thoughts shared, some interesting life stories imparted, and they are mine. This blog is composed of my thoughts reflecting my journey. Some of these stories may have intersected yours at certain points.
One of the things that this year has taught me is that our journeys, sometimes once thought long since divergent, seem to have a way of intersecting again in ways you least expect.
What is it that Christians say? Never goodbye, just see you later.
I think that's right. Not always in the ultimacy of time, but sometimes in the dailyness of living. I cling to the hope of what is and what will be---and in the meantime, I'll be trying find a bit more balance in the new year.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Friday, December 31, 2010
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Thinking About What Was and What Is
Virtually every media outlet will have a "year in review" this coming week. It's the usual air time filler produced to run between Christmas and New Years.
We'll be invited to look back at pop culture, politics, lead stories, and trends. Because we have a short attention span, the recollection of things happening no more than 12 months ago will seem a distant memory. That is not among our most endearing traits.
We'll see video packages of key figures in our culture who died in the previous year. Their deaths remind us of what we've lost and that we're not what we were.
I've found myself rather introspective of late, looking back across my year that was to help give me a course to steer in the year at my doorstep.
So here's some thoughts about my year in review-
Weight Much?
Once again I find myself at the breaking point of a lifelong struggle with weight and the anger, shame and self loathing that are my constant companions when I consider that I've allowed this to happen---again. At my age I can no longer afford the delusion that I'll get it right one of these days. If I desire longevity and vitality I've got to "find some balance here."
The "Dr. Phil" voice would argue that I must find something in this struggle that I'm looking for, otherwise I'd change it because we can't change what we won't acknowledge. So what is it? I've been reflecting on the year that was. It hasn't been an easy one, and at times quite difficult. Just because I'm called to do a certain work, and sometimes do it pretty well, does not mean there is no toll taken. Who is pastor to the pastor? Right now that's an open question. There is a direct correlation between how I'm dealing (or not dealing) with life healthily, and the insulation I add to my physical frame. Rather than thinking of storing up for a winter's hibernation, the added weight I pack on serves me more like a Kevlar vest presumably to protect my heart from the perceived threats "out there." And I think it's always been that way for me, from childhood on.
While I've not always given my permission to ponder such things, I think I'm right on this one. It's a self-protection mechanism, that ironically, is going to damn near kill me if I don't find a way through. How is it with my soul? Look at my body and you'll see the answer my mouth dares not speak.
For a Song -
I don't know when I've sung more than I have in this past year. It's been a long time, probably not since Asbury days as Glad River was coming together and we were recording and touring, and I served as Associate with a singer as Senior (MM). Fun days. Music is as much soul medicine for me as anything. I've been reminded of that great quote from Augustine, when we sing we "pray twice," Guess I've been doing a lot of praying. I recently saw a video of me singing and was taken by how different my countenance was. I could see it. My affect is almost transcendent. Held in juxtaposition with the usual "me," I have to say I like the "me" I am when I sing a lot more than the "me" I am when I don't.
In my current appointment, I'm blessed with very talented musicians. At times I've tapped into my inner rock star when we do tunes of the 60's and 70's to augment our worship experiences. Even bought myself my own solo mic - EV- N/D767a. Yep, all about the tunes.
And then there's The Travelling Cokesburys (click and check us out) which has been an utter blast (CD coming soon). To be able to play and sing with John Kilzer has been a treat. But it is our project, hymns from the Cokesbury Hymnal, that has allowed me to reconnect with a touchstone of my faith that had meant so much. It's not the hymns themselves that matter as much as my recollection of the congregations I grew up singing them in.
In Search of Community -
My clergy group, of which I've been a part on a weekly basis since 1990, is struggling to survive. While its number and configuration has changed many times over the years, with just three of us left the inevitable is upon us. I don't know what that means for me. For a long time we tried to model what healthy clergy relationships could look like, those in which we lovingly hold each other accountable. Sometimes we were actually good at it. But itineracy and attrition has moved this group to a perilous state, and I'm saddened by that. I'm also worried because the loneliness of those in clergy, something for which I had a weekly antidote, is now evermore in front of me in the year ahead.
Friends -
Reconnecting with friends of my past, those who knew me, loved me and trusted me long before I claimed a vocational life has been one of the greatest blessings of this past year, no question about it. I hate to admit that Facebook is partially responsible for that being true, but it is. My friends from Mayfield, Jackson and early Memphis days have each touched me again, and I'm ever thankful. And that's been a complete and welcomed surprise.
I've also been reminded this past year that with some friendships, sometimes you just have to move on. That's something you'd think I would have learned by now. Moving on is what I've done all my life. Close a door, open a door. It's an axiom of we in clergy life that I thought I could ignore or manage because I'm just that smart. Not so much. Learning to do that at peace? That's the trick, and a lesson I'm trying to learn, and so far not so well.
Being a Dad -
For every moment I feel like I did a great job as a dad, there's scores more when I blew it. Too busy, too tired, too distracted...too not present. And yet, my boys affirm in me how much I matter to them. They make me laugh. I make them laugh. And when they are in trouble they know they can come to me and they do. The craziness of my home life since Kristy took over the stores several years ago is that I'm now by necessity a part of the dailyness of running the house, and tending the family. It gets to be nuts but it's been a blessing. And in the new year I'll have my first graduate. Not sure what that's going to mean for us all just yet, but it ought to be interesting!
So there's a look back at me. For what is right and good I'm thankful. For what of it that lingers, that I'll carry with me into 2011 as baggage I hope that just saying some of it out loud is the first step in unpacking.
Happy New Year!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
We'll be invited to look back at pop culture, politics, lead stories, and trends. Because we have a short attention span, the recollection of things happening no more than 12 months ago will seem a distant memory. That is not among our most endearing traits.
We'll see video packages of key figures in our culture who died in the previous year. Their deaths remind us of what we've lost and that we're not what we were.
I've found myself rather introspective of late, looking back across my year that was to help give me a course to steer in the year at my doorstep.
So here's some thoughts about my year in review-
Weight Much?
Once again I find myself at the breaking point of a lifelong struggle with weight and the anger, shame and self loathing that are my constant companions when I consider that I've allowed this to happen---again. At my age I can no longer afford the delusion that I'll get it right one of these days. If I desire longevity and vitality I've got to "find some balance here."
The "Dr. Phil" voice would argue that I must find something in this struggle that I'm looking for, otherwise I'd change it because we can't change what we won't acknowledge. So what is it? I've been reflecting on the year that was. It hasn't been an easy one, and at times quite difficult. Just because I'm called to do a certain work, and sometimes do it pretty well, does not mean there is no toll taken. Who is pastor to the pastor? Right now that's an open question. There is a direct correlation between how I'm dealing (or not dealing) with life healthily, and the insulation I add to my physical frame. Rather than thinking of storing up for a winter's hibernation, the added weight I pack on serves me more like a Kevlar vest presumably to protect my heart from the perceived threats "out there." And I think it's always been that way for me, from childhood on.
While I've not always given my permission to ponder such things, I think I'm right on this one. It's a self-protection mechanism, that ironically, is going to damn near kill me if I don't find a way through. How is it with my soul? Look at my body and you'll see the answer my mouth dares not speak.
For a Song -
I don't know when I've sung more than I have in this past year. It's been a long time, probably not since Asbury days as Glad River was coming together and we were recording and touring, and I served as Associate with a singer as Senior (MM). Fun days. Music is as much soul medicine for me as anything. I've been reminded of that great quote from Augustine, when we sing we "pray twice," Guess I've been doing a lot of praying. I recently saw a video of me singing and was taken by how different my countenance was. I could see it. My affect is almost transcendent. Held in juxtaposition with the usual "me," I have to say I like the "me" I am when I sing a lot more than the "me" I am when I don't.
In my current appointment, I'm blessed with very talented musicians. At times I've tapped into my inner rock star when we do tunes of the 60's and 70's to augment our worship experiences. Even bought myself my own solo mic - EV- N/D767a. Yep, all about the tunes.
And then there's The Travelling Cokesburys (click and check us out) which has been an utter blast (CD coming soon). To be able to play and sing with John Kilzer has been a treat. But it is our project, hymns from the Cokesbury Hymnal, that has allowed me to reconnect with a touchstone of my faith that had meant so much. It's not the hymns themselves that matter as much as my recollection of the congregations I grew up singing them in.
In Search of Community -
My clergy group, of which I've been a part on a weekly basis since 1990, is struggling to survive. While its number and configuration has changed many times over the years, with just three of us left the inevitable is upon us. I don't know what that means for me. For a long time we tried to model what healthy clergy relationships could look like, those in which we lovingly hold each other accountable. Sometimes we were actually good at it. But itineracy and attrition has moved this group to a perilous state, and I'm saddened by that. I'm also worried because the loneliness of those in clergy, something for which I had a weekly antidote, is now evermore in front of me in the year ahead.
Friends -
Reconnecting with friends of my past, those who knew me, loved me and trusted me long before I claimed a vocational life has been one of the greatest blessings of this past year, no question about it. I hate to admit that Facebook is partially responsible for that being true, but it is. My friends from Mayfield, Jackson and early Memphis days have each touched me again, and I'm ever thankful. And that's been a complete and welcomed surprise.
I've also been reminded this past year that with some friendships, sometimes you just have to move on. That's something you'd think I would have learned by now. Moving on is what I've done all my life. Close a door, open a door. It's an axiom of we in clergy life that I thought I could ignore or manage because I'm just that smart. Not so much. Learning to do that at peace? That's the trick, and a lesson I'm trying to learn, and so far not so well.
Being a Dad -
For every moment I feel like I did a great job as a dad, there's scores more when I blew it. Too busy, too tired, too distracted...too not present. And yet, my boys affirm in me how much I matter to them. They make me laugh. I make them laugh. And when they are in trouble they know they can come to me and they do. The craziness of my home life since Kristy took over the stores several years ago is that I'm now by necessity a part of the dailyness of running the house, and tending the family. It gets to be nuts but it's been a blessing. And in the new year I'll have my first graduate. Not sure what that's going to mean for us all just yet, but it ought to be interesting!
So there's a look back at me. For what is right and good I'm thankful. For what of it that lingers, that I'll carry with me into 2011 as baggage I hope that just saying some of it out loud is the first step in unpacking.
Happy New Year!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Eisegesis
Let me say from the outset - I've missed David Waters. The Commercial Appeal and the city are the better for having him come home to live and work among us. To come back to Memphis from The Washington Post is a pretty big deal His prophetic voice rings true for so many issues our community faces.
Let me also say that I'm proud to have travelled to Israel with brothers and sisters in the clergy with whom I've enjoyed a profound covenantal relationship for the past several years. I've written about this group previously in our responses to Lester Street and The Med, and Tear Down the Walls.
While there's much I will reflect upon in due course about being in Israel, the spiritual impact of being in a "holy land," for this post I find the need to clarify things for those left with certain impressions about this group, what we did, and why we did it.
Here's David's article:
Now I confess to sadness for feeling the need to do this at all. First, it would have suited me fine if there had never been any media about this. Granted, media exposure is common with many of the folks in this group, although I'm clear that I'm at the bottom of that food chain, and that's just fine by me. While I don't think any of us were really looking for it, it was too good to pass up as a story. I get that.
Being in fellowship together out of the spotlight, where we could be ourselves with one another, while understanding the pressures of what it means to be spiritual leaders was what gave life to this group. It is what draws us to it still.
When you turn that which had one purpose into the hands of the media, regardless of intentions, you open yourself up to perceptions that belie what is true.
On it's face, a public airing opens us to opinions. Perceptions from those who don't know me matter very little to me. My sadness, bordering on feeling betrayed is that some of these perceptions are from those I thought knew me, trusted me, and counted me as friend. And I'm not sure what to do with that. It confronts my continual internal conversation about not being loved unconditionally for who I am, and seen as having value only because of what I do.
Let's see...I've had "friends" concerned that I was going to be indoctrinated to a specific point of view, one they didn't hold. The belief I'd be indoctrinated by anything or anyone lets me know I'm not really known or trusted by those I thought did. That stings.
I've been labelled as being like those clergy to whom MLK Jr wrote in his "Letter from a Birmingham Jail." (them's fighting words, by the way). I was confronted by that masterwork during my Vandy days. It was thrust before me in critically constructive ways that made my focus be such that I will do everything I can in ministry not to be associated with those whose silence equals concurrence to what is going on around them.
So what's the real issue here for me? I thought about this a lot. And I'm surprised by how much this has gotten under my skin. I've sought the counsel of a trusted voice who does love and trust me for who I am and what was said resonated.
"Your integrity was called into question by those who know you, or at least you thought they did."
And there it is. "For everything there is a season." It is now the season to peaceably move on from what I thought was to what is. Ever been there? It happens.
How many of you have the motivations of your trips questioned?
I mean really?
It's a trip - a group of friends who happen to hold ministry in common took a trip together with our partners.
We went to Israel, a beautiful, complex place. I knew that before I got there, and found it confirmed upon arriving. The issues of security, justice and peace for all who call that place home have no easy answers. We went to see, to experience, to talk, to touch, to process, to pray, to consider the land of where Jesus lived, to ponder the implications of a land claimed by multiple faith communities and consider what that means in the places we live and do ministry.
We did not go to engage in Middle East peace talks.
Now David would have you believe that our common cause for friendship means we don't have different opinions on issues. How anyone who knows any one of us could believe that's true just isn't paying attention. The variable is that we gather as friends who hold work in common, not as ministers first, friends second. Some people either can't get that, or don't want to.
Most people were glad I went, glad we went, proud even that this fellowship of leaders, imperfect as we are, seeks to model the community in our common life that we proclaim in our work lives.
Where we went was not nearly as significant as that we went somewhere together. That we went to a place that holds significance to our faiths added a dimension that cannot be underestimated.
Shortly after returning we received word that David was going to write an article about the trip. David issued a request that each of us answer: "How did what you experienced in Israel inform your life and work in Memphis."
Eisegesis is defined as reading into something what you want it to say, rather than what it really means. It's a no-no for preachers when dealing with biblical texts. It's a no-no period. Ever encounter someone abusing scripture to say what they need to so that their point is validated, rather than let the scripture shape them? There you go.
While David was free to edit my words, the complexity of what I intended was co-opted into something altogether different. He eisegeted my quote. Here it is in total:
I've encountered this. It does not diminish the import of this experience for me. I am bothered that there's always someone who can't celebrate the blessings of others and will interpret what they want how they want.
But truth be told, I'm sad. The number of people with whom I entrust myself is comparatively few. And apparently, it's even fewer than I thought.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Let me also say that I'm proud to have travelled to Israel with brothers and sisters in the clergy with whom I've enjoyed a profound covenantal relationship for the past several years. I've written about this group previously in our responses to Lester Street and The Med, and Tear Down the Walls.
While there's much I will reflect upon in due course about being in Israel, the spiritual impact of being in a "holy land," for this post I find the need to clarify things for those left with certain impressions about this group, what we did, and why we did it.
Here's David's article:
Now I confess to sadness for feeling the need to do this at all. First, it would have suited me fine if there had never been any media about this. Granted, media exposure is common with many of the folks in this group, although I'm clear that I'm at the bottom of that food chain, and that's just fine by me. While I don't think any of us were really looking for it, it was too good to pass up as a story. I get that.
Being in fellowship together out of the spotlight, where we could be ourselves with one another, while understanding the pressures of what it means to be spiritual leaders was what gave life to this group. It is what draws us to it still.
When you turn that which had one purpose into the hands of the media, regardless of intentions, you open yourself up to perceptions that belie what is true.
On it's face, a public airing opens us to opinions. Perceptions from those who don't know me matter very little to me. My sadness, bordering on feeling betrayed is that some of these perceptions are from those I thought knew me, trusted me, and counted me as friend. And I'm not sure what to do with that. It confronts my continual internal conversation about not being loved unconditionally for who I am, and seen as having value only because of what I do.
Let's see...I've had "friends" concerned that I was going to be indoctrinated to a specific point of view, one they didn't hold. The belief I'd be indoctrinated by anything or anyone lets me know I'm not really known or trusted by those I thought did. That stings.
I've been labelled as being like those clergy to whom MLK Jr wrote in his "Letter from a Birmingham Jail." (them's fighting words, by the way). I was confronted by that masterwork during my Vandy days. It was thrust before me in critically constructive ways that made my focus be such that I will do everything I can in ministry not to be associated with those whose silence equals concurrence to what is going on around them.
So what's the real issue here for me? I thought about this a lot. And I'm surprised by how much this has gotten under my skin. I've sought the counsel of a trusted voice who does love and trust me for who I am and what was said resonated.
"Your integrity was called into question by those who know you, or at least you thought they did."
And there it is. "For everything there is a season." It is now the season to peaceably move on from what I thought was to what is. Ever been there? It happens.
How many of you have the motivations of your trips questioned?
I mean really?
It's a trip - a group of friends who happen to hold ministry in common took a trip together with our partners.
We went to Israel, a beautiful, complex place. I knew that before I got there, and found it confirmed upon arriving. The issues of security, justice and peace for all who call that place home have no easy answers. We went to see, to experience, to talk, to touch, to process, to pray, to consider the land of where Jesus lived, to ponder the implications of a land claimed by multiple faith communities and consider what that means in the places we live and do ministry.
We did not go to engage in Middle East peace talks.
Now David would have you believe that our common cause for friendship means we don't have different opinions on issues. How anyone who knows any one of us could believe that's true just isn't paying attention. The variable is that we gather as friends who hold work in common, not as ministers first, friends second. Some people either can't get that, or don't want to.
Most people were glad I went, glad we went, proud even that this fellowship of leaders, imperfect as we are, seeks to model the community in our common life that we proclaim in our work lives.
Where we went was not nearly as significant as that we went somewhere together. That we went to a place that holds significance to our faiths added a dimension that cannot be underestimated.
Shortly after returning we received word that David was going to write an article about the trip. David issued a request that each of us answer: "How did what you experienced in Israel inform your life and work in Memphis."
Eisegesis is defined as reading into something what you want it to say, rather than what it really means. It's a no-no for preachers when dealing with biblical texts. It's a no-no period. Ever encounter someone abusing scripture to say what they need to so that their point is validated, rather than let the scripture shape them? There you go.
While David was free to edit my words, the complexity of what I intended was co-opted into something altogether different. He eisegeted my quote. Here it is in total:
As we traveled through Israel together, we often heard the words "it's complicated," when describing ever present geopolitical and religious tensions. It's always there. There is a growing awareness that a two state solution may well be the last best enduring legacy for the land claimed as sacred by those who claim the God of Abraham, Mohammed, and Jesus as the center of their faith. But is the "two state" solution that we have long known on the parcel of land we call home our most faithful expression of the love of God and neighbor? As it is there it is here...a question always present. My sense is that to live fully into the justice and mercy of God compels Israel and Memphis to different conclusions on that question. It is complicated. But since when should what is complicated excuse doing what is faithful?Inasmuch as we who traveled together know what it meant and why we went, there is eisegesis aplenty by too many others. It's not about intentions, I don't believe. I think we read into way too many things what we want them to say rather than what they actually do. Driven by our own predispositions, biases and prejudices, and in the absence of trust and conversation, we make anything say what we want it to.
I've encountered this. It does not diminish the import of this experience for me. I am bothered that there's always someone who can't celebrate the blessings of others and will interpret what they want how they want.
But truth be told, I'm sad. The number of people with whom I entrust myself is comparatively few. And apparently, it's even fewer than I thought.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Pilgrimage: Day 1
My "big ol' jet airliner" landed in Tel Aviv around 4:30 p.m. local time. Our group - those who flew with us joined up with those who came early.
A short walk brought us to the water's edge where Micah lead us in the service ended the Sabbath. It was a thing full of beauty and hope.
First day take away was that. Hope in the face of conflict. Hope found in coming home. Zeal for life to be celebrated always---let everything
that breathes praise the Lord!
We walked the streets of Tel Aviv to the Goshen Restaurant. A great banquet. Our guide, Jonathan, who lives outside of Bethlehem shares his life and world view.
A good start.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
A short walk brought us to the water's edge where Micah lead us in the service ended the Sabbath. It was a thing full of beauty and hope.
First day take away was that. Hope in the face of conflict. Hope found in coming home. Zeal for life to be celebrated always---let everything
that breathes praise the Lord!
We walked the streets of Tel Aviv to the Goshen Restaurant. A great banquet. Our guide, Jonathan, who lives outside of Bethlehem shares his life and world view.
A good start.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Saturday, November 06, 2010
In Route
Ok. Before going too far into this, let me just say that Delta Elite Business Class does not suck. Thanks, Shirley, and thank you, friends of Tiger Bookstore.
Within the hour we'll enter Israeli airspace.
Fellow pilgrims on our flight-
Rick and Jane Kirchoff
Stacy and Rhonda Spencer
Keith and Shelia Norman
Andy and Sybil McBeth
Sheryl Greenstein
We meet up with the crew in Tel Aviv. Settle in. And then begin.
First impressions of trip so far. It's a pretty selfish one. Amazing that you have to cross the globe to have time with your spouse.
It's the nature of our lives. Two jobs that are constantly before us, even at home. 3 children with all their interactions and demands.
Just us? I've got my girl again. This may be reason enough for the journey.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Within the hour we'll enter Israeli airspace.
Fellow pilgrims on our flight-
Rick and Jane Kirchoff
Stacy and Rhonda Spencer
Keith and Shelia Norman
Andy and Sybil McBeth
Sheryl Greenstein
We meet up with the crew in Tel Aviv. Settle in. And then begin.
First impressions of trip so far. It's a pretty selfish one. Amazing that you have to cross the globe to have time with your spouse.
It's the nature of our lives. Two jobs that are constantly before us, even at home. 3 children with all their interactions and demands.
Just us? I've got my girl again. This may be reason enough for the journey.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Pilgrimage
In just a few days, Kristy and I are traveling with 10 other clergy couples from the Memphis area. We are going to Israel.
This cadre of clergy represent the diversity of spiritual leadership in Memphis. We are friends first, colleagues second.
We raised our voices as one to call the city together after the Lester Street massacre. We spoke as one about the need to preserve a healthcare safety net for the least among us, which is currently provided through The Med.
We believe that the character of our friendships feeds us because we understand in each other the impact our work has on our families and us.
I've been blessed to know these guys and their spouses. We travel together as interfaith, ecumenical and multiracial representatives of the people of faith in the Memphis area.
I'll be filing updates of our pilgrimage throughout.
Looking forward to something special.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
This cadre of clergy represent the diversity of spiritual leadership in Memphis. We are friends first, colleagues second.
We raised our voices as one to call the city together after the Lester Street massacre. We spoke as one about the need to preserve a healthcare safety net for the least among us, which is currently provided through The Med.
We believe that the character of our friendships feeds us because we understand in each other the impact our work has on our families and us.
I've been blessed to know these guys and their spouses. We travel together as interfaith, ecumenical and multiracial representatives of the people of faith in the Memphis area.
I'll be filing updates of our pilgrimage throughout.
Looking forward to something special.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Catharsis in Baltimore
I've written much over the years about my life and times in Mayfield, Kentucky.
In fact, I guess this blog has given space for thoughts and feelings to be processed and considered. As an old friend is want to remind me, all things unresolved always resurface. As I've alluded in previous posts, I think that much of who I am comes from my understanding of what of me was left unresolved from those years--
And there's the tie....the worlds I've left, from childhood to the present moment. For most of my life, those chapters never interact or overlap. They are sequestered pieces of the overall puzzle of my existence.
Part of my own issue about what of me I'll reveal to another, and the biggest part of me that I won't is impacted by this realization. It is part and parcel of being an itinerant family. And almost literally from the day of my birth (the family mythology goes that the day I was born was the day dad got his first appointment - it's no "brand plucked from the burning," mind you, but it is something to hang your hat on), to this moment in time.
I've not known anything other than itineracy. While my experience of it, and my reaction to it may not be that of others (and I certainly hope it's not), I can only claim what the impact of that covenantal life has had on me.
Just because you promise something to God, and honor that promise, doesn't mean it stops being hard.
So I've had this fascination with my life in Mayfield in recent years. I think it may have been brought to the surface when Jimmy died. Nothing like the recognition of mortality to make one look across the broad expanse of one's life and wonder what if? And, what now?
A month or so ago I was asked to represent the Memphis Conference Board of Ministry at an event in Baltimore. Apparently, no one else but the chair could go (which I take as no one else wanted to), but I was willing. Because I value the work of that body so much, if there was something I could glean from representatives across the church who do similar work, it seemed well worth the effort.
That, plus my expenses would be paid.
As soon as I knew I was going, I was reminded that someone I knew lived there. Someone from my Mayfield childhood. Someone with whom I had reconnected on "the" Facebook. Elaine.
So I wrote her, told her when I was coming, and wondered if she'd be available for a visit. She was. She and her husband were going to pick me up and take me out for crab--in Baltimore. Not too shabby.
I was shocked by how excited I was to reacquaint with her. I had not seen her in over 35 years. Me, whose emotional shield is usually always up, was venturing into something I never thought I would or even wanted to.
What would I say? Would she recognize me? We spoke on the phone to arrange pick up times and she said "you sound just like I remember you sounding." And I thought, "really?" I was like 11 or 12 when I left and now I'm 46. Could that be right? And all the while I was thinking "you do, too."
I sat outside the hotel to wait for her to come by after her work. I saw her, and of course it was Elaine. We smiled and hugged and sat to visit for awhile waiting for John, her husband to drop by and pick us all up.
We talked about our lives. Where we'd been. I asked about old friends and if she still goes home to Mayfield. We small talked for awhile as I mustered up the courage to do something I could no longer avoid.
Make a confession.
Now some of you reading this will have heard my sermon in which Elaine is an illustration. It has to do with growing up and she was always the one who'd score just one point ahead of me on a test. For every 10 grades I might eek out a "win" on 1 or 2 of them.
Hmmm. Maybe that's while I'm a Tiger fan? Another post for another time.
I was the Methodist preacher's kid. She went to the Baptist church...blah, blah, blah.
I was "confirmed," she was "saved." You know, that old chestnut.
And I've told that story of my competitive engagement with her several times in ministry. Why wouldn't I? I'll never see her again.
Ooops.
Preaching 101 - don't tell stories about other people without their permission. I'm just saying.
You should have seen her face when I said, "I need to make a confession to you."
And I shared my story. She was most gracious. Even laughing a bit. I don't know if she needed to hear what I said, it's no big deal, really. But I surely needed to say it.
John picked us up, and took us to Nick's Fish House. We sat outside on the water, learned how to eat crab, and had a wonderful time. We reminisced. We laughed. I heard about her life and I told her about mine. She's always been brilliant, and her work career bears witness to that.
One of the first things she said to me was "so, you followed in your dad's footsteps, huh?" Her inquiry came from a point of reference that few have. She knew me for what I was and now sees me for what I am. There was also a sense of "really? you? a preacher?" I get that curiosity, bordering on surprise....I really do.
Resolution. It felt like grace.
It was as profound a couple of hours as I've had in many a year.
I have no idea what our reconnection meant to her, but I know what it meant to me, and I was so glad. I felt like I had a claim on the lives of that bunch of people with whom I shared a childhood. Trapped no longer in the past, it now has new life and perspective. The chapters of my life are no longer sequestered from each other. And this word rarely (and sadly) comes from my lips--it makes me "happy."
Because the occasion that had me in Baltimore kept me in a hotel conference room, I didn't get to see much of the city. She told me I'd have to come back one day, and they'd show me around.
I told her I'd want to see Lovely Lane Church, the birthplace of Methodism in America.
"Oh really," she said. "I didn't know that."
Ahhh. Score one for me!
In fact, I guess this blog has given space for thoughts and feelings to be processed and considered. As an old friend is want to remind me, all things unresolved always resurface. As I've alluded in previous posts, I think that much of who I am comes from my understanding of what of me was left unresolved from those years--
- Friendship, and the fierce loyality attached to those you dare call friend. The truest since of that for me is probably a confusion between loyalty and desperation that the friends you have are friends you'll lose.
- Living in the balance between self worth and self loathing. That's probably always been there, but is exacerbated by not being able to process what it means to be "me." Am I loved for who I am? Do I even love me for who I am?
- Saying goodbye to the world you know when you're not ready - but truth be told, when are we ever really ready to leave the comforts and protections of the world that is safe to venture out into the great unknown?
- Curiosity of what happened to that world you left with you no longer in it. It's not like people you leave behind will never be the same without you, I mean, really. But there is something about knowing you've been remembered, especially in your absence, that brings a depth of meaning to what you once knew.
And there's the tie....the worlds I've left, from childhood to the present moment. For most of my life, those chapters never interact or overlap. They are sequestered pieces of the overall puzzle of my existence.
Part of my own issue about what of me I'll reveal to another, and the biggest part of me that I won't is impacted by this realization. It is part and parcel of being an itinerant family. And almost literally from the day of my birth (the family mythology goes that the day I was born was the day dad got his first appointment - it's no "brand plucked from the burning," mind you, but it is something to hang your hat on), to this moment in time.
I've not known anything other than itineracy. While my experience of it, and my reaction to it may not be that of others (and I certainly hope it's not), I can only claim what the impact of that covenantal life has had on me.
Just because you promise something to God, and honor that promise, doesn't mean it stops being hard.
So I've had this fascination with my life in Mayfield in recent years. I think it may have been brought to the surface when Jimmy died. Nothing like the recognition of mortality to make one look across the broad expanse of one's life and wonder what if? And, what now?
A month or so ago I was asked to represent the Memphis Conference Board of Ministry at an event in Baltimore. Apparently, no one else but the chair could go (which I take as no one else wanted to), but I was willing. Because I value the work of that body so much, if there was something I could glean from representatives across the church who do similar work, it seemed well worth the effort.
That, plus my expenses would be paid.
As soon as I knew I was going, I was reminded that someone I knew lived there. Someone from my Mayfield childhood. Someone with whom I had reconnected on "the" Facebook. Elaine.
So I wrote her, told her when I was coming, and wondered if she'd be available for a visit. She was. She and her husband were going to pick me up and take me out for crab--in Baltimore. Not too shabby.
I was shocked by how excited I was to reacquaint with her. I had not seen her in over 35 years. Me, whose emotional shield is usually always up, was venturing into something I never thought I would or even wanted to.
What would I say? Would she recognize me? We spoke on the phone to arrange pick up times and she said "you sound just like I remember you sounding." And I thought, "really?" I was like 11 or 12 when I left and now I'm 46. Could that be right? And all the while I was thinking "you do, too."
I sat outside the hotel to wait for her to come by after her work. I saw her, and of course it was Elaine. We smiled and hugged and sat to visit for awhile waiting for John, her husband to drop by and pick us all up.
We talked about our lives. Where we'd been. I asked about old friends and if she still goes home to Mayfield. We small talked for awhile as I mustered up the courage to do something I could no longer avoid.
Make a confession.
Now some of you reading this will have heard my sermon in which Elaine is an illustration. It has to do with growing up and she was always the one who'd score just one point ahead of me on a test. For every 10 grades I might eek out a "win" on 1 or 2 of them.
Hmmm. Maybe that's while I'm a Tiger fan? Another post for another time.
I was the Methodist preacher's kid. She went to the Baptist church...blah, blah, blah.
I was "confirmed," she was "saved." You know, that old chestnut.
And I've told that story of my competitive engagement with her several times in ministry. Why wouldn't I? I'll never see her again.
Ooops.
Preaching 101 - don't tell stories about other people without their permission. I'm just saying.
You should have seen her face when I said, "I need to make a confession to you."
And I shared my story. She was most gracious. Even laughing a bit. I don't know if she needed to hear what I said, it's no big deal, really. But I surely needed to say it.
John picked us up, and took us to Nick's Fish House. We sat outside on the water, learned how to eat crab, and had a wonderful time. We reminisced. We laughed. I heard about her life and I told her about mine. She's always been brilliant, and her work career bears witness to that.
One of the first things she said to me was "so, you followed in your dad's footsteps, huh?" Her inquiry came from a point of reference that few have. She knew me for what I was and now sees me for what I am. There was also a sense of "really? you? a preacher?" I get that curiosity, bordering on surprise....I really do.
Resolution. It felt like grace.
It was as profound a couple of hours as I've had in many a year.
I have no idea what our reconnection meant to her, but I know what it meant to me, and I was so glad. I felt like I had a claim on the lives of that bunch of people with whom I shared a childhood. Trapped no longer in the past, it now has new life and perspective. The chapters of my life are no longer sequestered from each other. And this word rarely (and sadly) comes from my lips--it makes me "happy."
Because the occasion that had me in Baltimore kept me in a hotel conference room, I didn't get to see much of the city. She told me I'd have to come back one day, and they'd show me around.
I told her I'd want to see Lovely Lane Church, the birthplace of Methodism in America.
"Oh really," she said. "I didn't know that."
Ahhh. Score one for me!
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