“What I Have Learned This Year”
What have you learned this year as an interim at Broadway?
I was asked that question at dinner last week by my mentor and friend Rick Frost. Rick pastored Broadway alongside my dear fried and prayer partner Kim Gage Ryan for 20+ years. Theirs was a faithful, fruitful ministry. I promised him a response which I share with you. What follows are not new learnings as much as reaffirmations of lessons learned over forty years.
The power of prayer. This has been a tough year made so by numerous knots of various vintage that resisted disentangling. In a quirky verse that falls between the cracks of most translations of the Bible and gets relegated to a footnote at the bottom of the page, Jesus’ disciples go to him seeking help for an intractable problem they can’t successfully address on their own. He tells them, “This kind does not come out except by prayer and fasting” (Matthew 17:21 NRSV). Whatever good (and whatever knots) came out of this interim ministry I attribute to prayer (and even some fasting). Prayer every morning (Jennie, too). Prayer every Thursday from Noon until 12:30 p.m. in the sanctuary. (Jennie and several others, too). Prayer requests regularly made of my Bethany colleagues Kim, Don, Gary, and Bob. Many middle of the night wake-up calls – insistent nudges that got me out of bed, downstairs, my journal open, pen in hand, furiously writing down thoughts, ideas, and strategies whose origin I can only attribute to the Holy Spirit. How does prayer work? By working on us, silently kneading our eyes and ears and minds until they open to what God is doing so that we may join in, buoyed by “strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.”
The power of exercise. We’re psychosomatic wholes. Our bodies, minds, and spirits sink or swim together. After 50+ years of running being my salve(ation), I was injured throughout 2023. Though I walked with Jennie, I missed lacing up the shoes and pounding the pavement. But finally, on a January Saturday, I took to the Katy Trail and ever so gingerly put one stride in front of the other for a mile and three-quarters. It felt good. I did it again the next day. No problem. Over the weeks, I extended the distance. Last Saturday, I ran 5 miles at a decent pace, the first time in a long time. My mind and spirit rejoiced with my rehabilitated body.
Change must be managed. Though it’s possible to do an interim ministry that merely serves as a placeholder until a real pastor arrives, trying to do something worthwhile – healing, redemptive, and transformative – calls for being a change agent. Leading congregations through change is more of an art than a science. Though I’ve learned a lot from books and mentors through the years about how to effect constructive change, I’ve acted more on instinct and intuition in the last decade or so of my life. Deep down I sense Now is the time to do that, Now is the moment for that hard conversation, Not now for that; they’re not ready. Proceed at the speed of trust. Show up and work hard alongside the people; sweat equity is required for interim pastors as much as for Habitat for Humanity homeowners. They don’t care what you know until they know that you care. Love ‘em before you try to lead ‘em. Be patient as well as passionate; know when to push and when to pause. Pray without ceasing (see above).
The worship wars just won’t go away. Aficionados of traditional worship and their counterpart contemporary worship enthusiasts are alive and well in 2024 just as they were back in the good ‘ol days of the 80s and 90s when skirmishes and outright battles over the right way to worship God first began to break out. We can be so catty in asserting our bias. Decades ago, I remember a woman define the praise songs her daughter loved as “Four words, three chords, two hours” while her daughter named the musical menu of hymnody her mother preferred as Senior Center Serenade. I’m inclined to plead irreconcilable differences and head to worship divorce court. You sing tomāto. They’ll sing tomăto. As for trying to have all generations of God’s family worship together, let’s call the whole thing off. I believed then and still believe there is something profoundly beautiful about the music of all the ages sung together by people of all ages to the Rock of Ages. So much for my idealism. So-called blended or convergence worship is much easier said than sung. Psalm 46 ends with “Be still and know that I am God.” Psalm 47 begins with “Clap your hands, all you nations; shout to God with cries of joy.” Though those contrasting styles of worship are neighbors in the Bible, I suspect the best we can do is make them neighbors to each other during consecutive hours on the Sunday morning schedule.
I’m an introvert in a profession that requires extroversion. People in my congregations are surprised to know I’m way over on the introvert pole on the Myers-Briggs continuum. I’ve learned to extrovert myself. Which means when I’m off – not responsible for listening, speaking, or leading – I hightail it to a quiet corner in which to recoup my energy. I’ve been on for eleven months without a break. It’s the disposition this particular ministry called for. Jennie said, “I have a feeling when we get home you’re going upstairs to The Maple Loft (my cozy writer’s den), come out only when you’re hungry, and not say a word for a month.” Probably.
I have a wonderful daughter with a wonderful husband. One of the primary reasons Jennie and I moved 460 miles west was the prospect of spending a year near them. As empty nesters living in Kentucky with grown children in Arizona, Chicago, and Missouri, how many opportunities are we going to have in our later years to be near them? What a blessing Laura, Ryan, and Cleo the Corgi have been.
“Beware of who meets you at the station.” Years ago, when I was making a move to a new church, a wise mentor shared that sage advice. “When you arrive,” he said, “various people will reach out to you. Some will tell you what you can/should/ought do for them. Others will ask what they can do for you. Pay attention.”
Jennie. I can’t do what I do (and what I did at Broadway) without her doing what she does. The opposite is not true. True!
No one is irreplaceable. That goes for pastors, staff, church members, and interim pastors. When all is said and done (and even now while everything is being said and done), it is Christ’s Church, not his, hers, theirs, or mine. Broadway Christian Church is Christ’s Church, its present and future is in good hands – God’s hands, Christ’s hands, the Spirit’s hands.
Final grade. My final grade for this interim ministry is an “I” as in “Incomplete”. I’ll not be able to fix, fine tune, or finish everything on my to-do list. But I made peace long ago with an “I” being my final grade for all my previous pastorates and for my life itself. I have made that peace because I believe God will at long last do the finishing, fine tuning, and, yes, the fixing of everything and everybody. I’m standing on that promise. It cannot fail. So, I’ll take my “I” for Incomplete (and an “E” for Effort) and pass the baton of Broadway’s leadership to Sarah and Andrew Taylor Peck, two called and gifted pastors whose ministry I will delight in watching unfold.
I’ll be watching from afar. Hired hand substitute shepherd Shirey is returning to civilian duty soon.
And all the people said AMEN.
