Eugene Peterson: Pastor, Prolific Author, & RUNNER
A Gathering Voices Post
Upon a good friend’s recommendation, I recently picked up Eugene Peterson’s memoir creatively titled The Pastor: A Memoir. OK, no points for creativity, but Peterson makes it all up with the prose.
If your familiar with the venerable pastor Peterson’s other work (books I’ve read include Under the Unpredictable Plant, Working the Angles, and of course Peterson’s Biblical translation The Message), the memoir won’t upend your view of him, but it should fill in the picture of Peterson’s pastoral life in helpful ways. Peterson’s reflections, though at times clearly from another era, are first-rate, wise, and well worth reading.
His main pastoral experiences occurred when he started a new Presbyterian congregation in Bel Air, Maryland. So, as a new faith community leader guy myself, I particularly appreciated his reflections on the joys and challenges of a new church development call.
So, yeah. It’s a good book. I recommend. But one chapter particularly caught my attention as I train for the Twin Cities Marathon this October. Peterson is a runner. A big-time runner. A marathoner — and a fast one at that. He qualified for Boston!
In college, Peterson ran for 
the track team but he did not continue running in grad school or when he became a pastor. This all changed, however, when he found himself in the “badland years” of his ministry, a time when “the color had drained out of both vocation and congregation, and [he] didn’t know what to make of it.” In these troubled times, he took up running again.
He subscribed to Runner’s World, bought a pair of shoes, and started running again in the neighborhood. He did this most afternoons, building up to five miles, and appreciated “the meditative dimension to long-distance running: the uninterrupted quiet, the metronomic repetitiveness, the sensual immersion in the fragrance of trees and flowering bushes and rain, the springiness of the soil on park trails, the Zenlike emptying of the mind that felt like a freedom to be simply present, not having to do or say anything.”
That’s maybe a bit rich for me, but on the whole, I get it. Yes. Indeed. Running helped Peterson out of his “badlands,” his vocational funk. Plus, the congregational leaders at his church supported and sustained Peterson’s running pursuits even insisting once that he skip a Sunday leading worship to run the Philadelphia Marathon.
The life of a pastor can be awfully rough sometimes. It’s comforting to know Eugene Peterson, in all his wisdom and new church development skills, struggled significantly at points. And it’s a comfort to know something as straightforward as running helped him outpace tough emotional times.
I’m not going to write as many books as Eugene Peterson. I’m not going to translate the entire Bible in conversational English or qualify for the Boston Marathon. But I know I will face tough times as a pastor, and with my other support networks, I pray that running might help me through.
RunRevRun: Keeping Fit, Keeping Faith
A cool new website launched last week, RunRevRun.net. For some time pastors have used the hashtag #runrevrun on Twitter to comment on running, health, and exercise. Thanks to my buddy Adam Walker Cleaveland and some friends, #RunRevRun now has its own website.
When I began seminary, I hated running. Though I had grown up watching my father, a pastor, run several times a week I never took to it myself. In fact, running was definitely the part of my high school soccer training that I disliked the most. In seminary, after some cajoling (and on a night when certain beverages had been consumed), I did agree to join a group of friends on the Cooper River Bridge 10K during my second year of seminary. That 6.2 miles was the longest I had run, and though it was tough it wasn’t totally unenjoyable. We did the Hal Higdon beginner 10K training program together (which I recommend), and I definitely relished in the communal aspect of the training.
After surviving the 10K, I put my running shoes in the back of the closet. I was happy enough saying, “I ran a 10K” but I also was pretty certain running was not for me. I would not be a “running Rev.” Or so I thought.
Then I went on my yearlong internship as an Assistant Minister at a church in Scotland. I got into the regular schedule of a pastor — including the easy eating habits of cookies in people’s houses and quick not-so-healthy suppers before meetings — and, well, I got into the worst physical shape of my life. After only nine months of so of pastoral internship, I had put on more than ten pounds and just didn’t feel very fit at all. And so, I did the only thing I knew to do: I started running again.
I didn’t run any races in Scotland, but when I got back to the states I checked out the Atlanta race schedule and found dozens of options. A ran a few more 10Ks and eventually several half marathons and a marathon. After a year or so, I found I actually enjoyed running. I felt healthier because of it, more in touch with my body, even more connected to God.
I won’t bore you with any more running exploits in this post. (In fact, I don’t blog on running all that much actually.) But I do really recommend the RunRevRun.net site. Check it out, and “like” us on Facebook too. It looks to be a great community, and if you’d like to submit a post, there’s even a Contact option in the About section. RunRevRun: Keeping Fit, Keeping Faith!
Jell-O Confessions
Originally posted at Gathering Voices: Faith Conversations from TheThoughtfulChristian.com
Pastoral ministry is a funny thing. A few years ago, I never in my wildest dreams would have imagined myself pastor of a rural congregation 20 miles from Canada (I grew up in Florida!). But then we moved up here, I got connected to a great church, and now I really hate to leave. A number of circumstances conspired against me staying as long as we might have liked, and I preached my last sermon as pastor last Sunday. Transitions are tough. Goodbyes can be very sad.
It’s much too early to reflect fully on my ministry there, but it’s always the right time for bullet points. So, here’s my top twelve reflections on my first stab at pastoral ministry.
- mark the Bible readings carefully before you try to read them from the pulpit — lesson learned the hard way
- going the extra mile with pastoral care is always worth it
- Confirmation can be totally, completely, entirely, a rocking-fun experience. (We loved the re:form curriculum.)
- In Minnesota, when visiting someone in their home, you take your shoes off at the door. You do the same in Hawaii, but not Florida or Scotland.
- Breakfast at the Caribou Grill every wednesday nourishes much more than one’s body.
- More parishioners read your blog than you think.
- It’s really very hard to schedule time to read ministry books, magazines, and the like.
- Colleagues of one’s own denomination are fine, but ecuenical pastor colleagues from the local area are even better.
- You can put absolutely anything in a Jell-O salad. Anything.
- Many things run totally smoothly without the pastor doing a thing: e.g. Presbyterian Women, potlucks, annual traditions.
- Some things run totally rough without the pastor’s help: e.g. new traditions, turf battles, the batteries in the automatic flush urinal.
- Preaching every week is a great gift, but after ten weeks in a row or so, I needed a break.
Pastors out there, what did you/are you learning in your first parish? Have you come to appreciate the art form that is a Jell-O salad?
Additional Resources from www.TheThoughtfulChristian.com
- Best Advice: Wisdom on Ministry from 30 Leading Pastors and Preachers, edited by William J. Carl III
- A Guide to Preaching and Leading Worship, by William H. Willimon
- “Children in Worship,” (Adult Study)
Your pastor’s dirty little secret…maybe
“A sad secret for many pastors is this: the only time they pray is during Sunday worship; the only time they read the Bible is to prepare their sermons.”
Or, at least, you’ll hear that claim — and others like it — fairly often.
I suppose there’s no way to tell, really, if it’s true. But I get the point. Sure, us pastors aren’t always the best at practicing what we preach, especially when it comes to prayer and reading scripture.
My guess is that, for many, our bad habits begin in seminary when so much of prayer and Bible reading changes from tasks one engages for fun to tasks one completes for assignments (and grades). Though my seminary offers a spirituality certificate program, the regular Master of Divinity curriculum does not emphasize spiritual practices. In fact, many students experience a sort of prayer and Bible reading withdrawal in seminary. But this post isn’t about seminary, it’s about the practices of pastors in pastoral ministry.
So, I wonder, what have pastors found as the best ways to attend to daily prayer and scripture reading?
I’ve tried various strategies myself over my pastoral internship and early years of ministry. I’ve had the Daily Lectionary texts automatically emailed to me every morning. I’ve (attempted) to keep up with a practice of reading through the Bible in a year. I’ve set aside a certain time in each day for prayer. I go in cycles — something works for a while, and then I get lazy or get busy and I must adjust.
I have a friend who is part of a pastor group that prays the newspaper headlines each time they get together.
Another friend, before he turns on his computer at church every morning, prays first and reads the Bible.
Other friends have experimented with smart phone apps that supposedly help prayer, reflection, and encounters with scripture.
So, as I search for a better way myself to practice my spiritual disciples, I wonder what ways of prayer and scripture reading you find works well (or doesn’t) for you.
image by Irum Shahid
Pastors and the word “my”
also posted at the CENTURY Blog
Recently a fellow pastor closed a conversation by saying, “I’ll get my secretary to send you that document from my Christian Education committee.”
I bit my tongue. I wanted to say, “Wow, I didn’t know it was legal in Minnesota to own even one person, let alone a whole committee!”
Ownership language employed by pastors is a pet peeve of mine. Using the pronoun “my” to refer to employees, committees, pulpits, choirs, communion tables–really anything other than actual personal property– sets my teeth on edge. Whatever the speaker’s intent, I hear misplaced priorities and dangerous assumptions.
Overuse of the pastoral “my” identifies the church as overly pastor-centered. If the pastor owns the committees and sanctuary and other employees, the implicit message to others is one of arrogance, control and a lack of welcome. Such language also undercuts the empowerment of the congregation to take ownership of its ministry. If church members hear the pastor referring to things as his or hers, they have less incentive to take responsibility themselves.
Most of all, using such language is just plain bad theology. No person is owned by another, and no committee or choir is the pastor’s alone. Instead, the whole church shares the work of the whole church. Using “my” language is theologically lazy and totally misleading. When the pastor leaves, the work will go on–it’s not for or owned by the pastor. It’s to the glory of God.
With this in mind, I tend to avoid even the phrase “my congregation” in favor of “our congregation.” I hope this communicates that the church is owned by no one person, and certainly not by me. Yes, many people refer to a church as “my church,” and I know what they mean. That’s okay–especially for folks who aren’t the pastor.
Ultimately, however, it’s important to remember that the church and everything and everyone in it belong to God.
Should I call you “Reverend?”
also posted at the CENTURY Blog
“Should I call you ‘Reverend’?” someone asked me recently. I paused for a moment, thinking a million thoughts at once. I’m not much of a fan of the “reverend” title, in part because of its problematic grammar but mostly because I don’t want to be revered.
“Reverend” isn’t actually a title at all; it’s what’s called a style. It’s similar to calling a judge “the Honorable John Doe,” and some grammarians get their stoles in a twist if “reverend” occurs without the officially correct “the” before it.
More importantly, “reverend” isn’t a noun synonymous with “pastor”; it’s an adjective that means “deserving reverence.” When someone calls me “Rev. Adam,” the absent definite article bothers me a lot less than the fact that I’m being called “revered” just because I happen to be ordained. I’d rather earn respect than be given it by default.
Maybe I wimped out, but I went ahead and told the person who asked that I’m happy just being called “Adam,” but if she’s more comfortable with “Reverend,” that’s fine too. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet–or as sour.
Do you call your pastor “Reverend”? Why or why not? And pastors, what do you prefer to be called?
image made at wordle.net
Pastors work only one day a week. Right?
also posted at the CENTURY Blog
When I make a new non-churchy friend, he or she often asks what exactly I do with my time as a pastor outside Sunday morning.
A lot, actually—often more than my three-quarter-time position would suggest. I plan for Sunday, prepare sermons, connect with other pastors, visit the sick and the elderly, plan or attend community events, stay up on scholarship, teach classes, write articles, pray and work with other churches in my denomination. And that’s only on Monday! My non-church friends are often surprised by the range of activities, as I expect many members would be as well.
On a recent trip to Scotland, where I once served as an assistant minister in the Church of Scotland, I was reminded of the different expectations of pastors in that country. In the congregation I served, pastors were expected to visit congregation members for huge portions of their workweeks.
This emphasis on pastoral visiting did not seem to be unique to my congregation. As one colleague explained it, in many parishes there’s an expectation that the pastor “bring the church” to people’s homes on visits rather than people regularly going to church themselves on Sunday.
I write this all because as a part-time solo pastor, I’m hyper-aware of how I spend my time each week. The pastor before me served full time, and our job descriptions are basically identical—though I have less time in which to work. So I’m careful with how I spend my 30 hours.
It seems to me, though, that I would work quite differently than my predecessor even if I were full time. Most pastors have a large amount of personal choice in how they spend their workweek, and because of the range of duties, no two pastors will work in the same way. Serving as a pastor, especially as a solo pastor, involves a lot of self-direction and individual decisions.
In what ways can pastors best balance their own gifts and graces with the needs of their congregations? Is it important for a congregation to know what its pastor is doing at all (or at least most) times?
image by Mohammed Odeh
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