The end of the year seems specially designed for reflection. I've been thinking a lot about 2013, and I'm trying to make sense of all that has happened this year. It was, for me, a remarkable year of highs and lows. It's hard to understand how grief and celebration can be so closely tied together - but that's the kind of year 2013 was for me . . . as a person and as a pastor.
Those two things - person and pastor - cannot easily be separated, of course. Being a pastor is more than a job; it's an identity. I've been a pastor for over twenty years now. When I started as a pastor, I knew immediately that I was out of my league. But I also assumed that it would get easier and more manageable with each passing year. Unfortunately, that turned out to be a naive - and mistaken - hope. If anything, being a pastor has gotten more difficult every year.
And this past year has been one of the toughest.
I have a few pastor friends around the country. We keep in touch by e-mail from time to time. We've never really set up guidelines, but we've ended up playing a ministerial game. It's called "Can You Top This?" Without divulging names and personal information, we will share with each other stories about some of the more interesting things that we experience in ministry. Almost invariably, each story will lead to another one from someone else. And the second story is intended to convey a clear meaning: Yes, I can top that!
I've got to say that several times this year I've shared stories that couldn't be topped at all. In fact, several times this year, the response from my pastor friends was: You've got to be kidding. Maybe the planets aligned in a strange way this year, but I've had things happen in ministry that I can barely comprehend.
"Inconceivable" is what the little man in the movie Princess Bride keeps saying. He is accused of not knowing exactly what the word means, but he keeps saying it anyway. Every time I think of that word - and, lately, I've been thinking of it a lot - I think of the year in ministry that I'm just now bringing to a close. Inconceivable. Impossible to comprehend. Difficult to make sense of. Utterly confusing.
Even though I sensed the call to be a pastor as early as second grade, I worked hard to move my life in another direction. When I became a seminary professor, I thought that I had taken care of my problem. One of the compelling reasons that made me hesitant to become a pastor was growing up in a pastor's home. My dad loved being a pastor - and he was deeply loved as a pastor. But he was also subjected to a shocking lack of respect from time to time. As a kid, I heard the comments. And I decided that I wasn't interested in that kind of thing for myself.
Imagine my surprise when God made it clear that I would be a pastor.
My dad was never very free with advice, even when I asked for it. Probably the best counsel he ever gave me was the simple phrase that's the title for this blog: water off a duck's back. He never really explained what the saying meant, but I took his advice to mean that I should try to let things roll off, that I shouldn't hold on to hurt, that I should work hard to ignore everything I could and simply press on. My dad and I never really had long, heart-to-heart conversations. But often, especially when things were hard, one of us would say to the other: water off a duck's back.
Saying that didn't make everything okay. But it did feel better to know that somebody else just might understand what we were feeling. Even in that final difficult season in my dad's life, I'd often say to him: "Dad, water off a duck's back." Just a few words - but they communicated a lot about the relationship that we shared.
I still don't know exactly what to do with the inconceivable things that seem to keep happening with remarkable frequency. Simply letting things go is probably a good start.
Beyond that, this is about all I have. I think of Hagar's words in Genesis 16:13. In a situation that was simply impossible for her to understand, Hagar said: "You are the God who sees me."
The God who sees me. The God who sees these inconceivable things that happen. The God who sees everything.
The God who sees me. Sometimes, that is enough.
I've got to say that several times this year I've shared stories that couldn't be topped at all. In fact, several times this year, the response from my pastor friends was: You've got to be kidding. Maybe the planets aligned in a strange way this year, but I've had things happen in ministry that I can barely comprehend.
"Inconceivable" is what the little man in the movie Princess Bride keeps saying. He is accused of not knowing exactly what the word means, but he keeps saying it anyway. Every time I think of that word - and, lately, I've been thinking of it a lot - I think of the year in ministry that I'm just now bringing to a close. Inconceivable. Impossible to comprehend. Difficult to make sense of. Utterly confusing.
Even though I sensed the call to be a pastor as early as second grade, I worked hard to move my life in another direction. When I became a seminary professor, I thought that I had taken care of my problem. One of the compelling reasons that made me hesitant to become a pastor was growing up in a pastor's home. My dad loved being a pastor - and he was deeply loved as a pastor. But he was also subjected to a shocking lack of respect from time to time. As a kid, I heard the comments. And I decided that I wasn't interested in that kind of thing for myself.
Imagine my surprise when God made it clear that I would be a pastor.
My dad was never very free with advice, even when I asked for it. Probably the best counsel he ever gave me was the simple phrase that's the title for this blog: water off a duck's back. He never really explained what the saying meant, but I took his advice to mean that I should try to let things roll off, that I shouldn't hold on to hurt, that I should work hard to ignore everything I could and simply press on. My dad and I never really had long, heart-to-heart conversations. But often, especially when things were hard, one of us would say to the other: water off a duck's back.
Saying that didn't make everything okay. But it did feel better to know that somebody else just might understand what we were feeling. Even in that final difficult season in my dad's life, I'd often say to him: "Dad, water off a duck's back." Just a few words - but they communicated a lot about the relationship that we shared.
I still don't know exactly what to do with the inconceivable things that seem to keep happening with remarkable frequency. Simply letting things go is probably a good start.
Beyond that, this is about all I have. I think of Hagar's words in Genesis 16:13. In a situation that was simply impossible for her to understand, Hagar said: "You are the God who sees me."
The God who sees me. The God who sees these inconceivable things that happen. The God who sees everything.
The God who sees me. Sometimes, that is enough.