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.

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!

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.

1. mark the Bible readings carefully before you try to read them from the pulpit — lesson learned the hard way
2. going the extra mile with pastoral care is always worth it
3. Confirmation can be totally, completely, entirely, a rocking-fun experience. (We loved the re:form curriculum.)
4. 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.
5. Breakfast at the Caribou Grill every wednesday nourishes much more than one’s body.
6. More parishioners read your blog than you think.
7. It’s really very hard to schedule time to read ministry books, magazines, and the like.
8. Colleagues of one’s own denomination are fine, but ecuenical pastor colleagues from the local area are even better.
9. You can put absolutely anything in a Jell-O salad. Anything.
10. Many things run totally smoothly without the pastor doing a thing: e.g. Presbyterian Women, potlucks, annual traditions.
11. Some things run totally rough without the pastor’s help: e.g. new traditions, turf battles, the batteries in the automatic flush urinal.
12. 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)

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

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.

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

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

Also posted at the CENTURY Blog

“Should I post or should I not?” I ask myself this when I’m thinking of posting a particularly snarky religion-related Facebook status update that would entertain my old seminary friends, go over my high school friends’ heads and unsettle some members of my congregation.

I use Facebook daily in my work, but it wasn’t designed as a ministry tool. As the new movie The Social Network shows, Mark Zuckerberg developed Facebook on a college campus with the social networks of college students in mind. Now, as a pastor with 866 Facebook “friends,” I struggle with my mixed-up social networks.

If I post a vacation picture or two, church members will post comments on them. This is lovely and thoughtful of them, but it’s also a reminder that even when I’m on vacation I have a congregation waiting for me back home. (There are larger concerns about vacation posts as well.)

When they began looking for a call to a church, many of my seminary classmates combed their Facebook accounts and deleted photos, changed favorite quotes and blanked out political affiliations so that pastor-seeking congregations would not prejudge for or against them by their online identities. I even have several pastor friends who maintain two Facebook profiles, one personal and one professional.

Pastoral ministry is a public calling, and in our social-media age this calling extends to online identities and relationships. I laud the possibilities social media presents and urge the church to use the tools for the kingdom. But just as church-owned houses offer particular challenges to a pastor and family when members drop in unannounced to fill the fridge with makings for the women’s tea, Facebook offers the challenge of unclear and ever-changing boundaries. (For the record, Presbyterian Women of Hallock, Minnesota, this is not something I fret over but just an example.)

Since becoming a pastor, I’ve developed some different Facebook practices:

• Though I am Facebook friends with several church youth, I only post to their public walls rather than sending private messages. (I do use the message function for messages to multiple youth and their parents.)
• I rarely put up status messages; it’s too difficult to write something with so many different audiences in mind.
• My interactions on Facebook tend to be affirming and broad-minded rather than combative or controversial.
• Whatever my privacy settings, I always assume that anything on Facebook could be read by anyone at any time.

I’m a huge fan of social media, and Facebook sets the standard, at least for now. But it can be abused, and it brings with it unintended consequences, especially for those in public roles.

How do you approach Facebook for public ministry and personal use? What challenges do you encounter with social media? What are your Facebook best practices?

Image by Massimo Barbieri, licensed under Creative Commons.

This does not make much sense, I grant you, since being away actually makes me a better pastor. But, I’m willing to bet, I’m not the only pastor who feels torn when making arrangements to be away.

Next week, for instance, I’m gone for a mission trip. I’m taking two youth from our congregation to Philadelphia to meet up with some other youth at one of the absolute top mission experiences in my denomination. It’s awesome that youth from our congregation are getting to go, and I’m very happy to lead them. But, somehow, strangely, even though I’ll be working 24 hours-a-day for 7 days, I still think of all the pastor-type things I could be doing were I not going.

Maybe the guilt is helpful somehow, since it points to the fact that were I in town, there are relationships I’d foster, visits I’d complete, local ministry I’d accomplish. I definitely feel like there’s plenty for me to do when I’m around town.

I also wonder how the guilt might dissipate were I not in a solo pastor position, or even if there were other mainline pastors in town who could easily cover me while away. Certainly there are benefits to multiple pastors on staff, and sister churches nearby with pastor positions filled.

Sure, I remind myself of all that which I know to be true: I’d be a crappy pastor if I didn’t take breaks, broader service to the denomination is an essential part of my call, I’m totally replaceable, we always manage fine when I’m gone and it’s not about me in the first place. This helps a bit, but not completely.

As it is, I think realizing I have a problem is a helpful first step.  So l live into the tension of needing to be away because it’s what best for all parties and knowing that, when away, there’s just some things that don’t get done. I mean, I’m Presbyterian after all. Guilt is good, right?

image by rolve

I had an interesting conversation with a pastor friend last week in which he said something like, “Everyone assumes I’m so busy, but I’m not. I have a lot of time to do anything I want. My congregation just runs itself.” I do know, for certain, I am not like this pastor. Yes, our congregation could function perfectly well without me, but I do feel really busy. And I’m pretty certain it’s more than just a feeling. I am busy.

So the question: how, if possible, might I improve my time management? What tips do you have for pastors so that they might use their time to God’s glory?

OK, so here’s the main tension I feel. The culture is all about time as a commodity, time as something to be managed, something to fight, something to beat. But the Christian take on time is different. First of all, time is a gift from God. It shouldn’t be something to wrestle, but something to embrace.

So in the New Testament, there are two words for time. “Chronos” is chronological time, sequential time as we usually think of it. “Kairos” is a more complicated term, a time more qualitative than quantitative. Kairos time is the moment when God deems something appropriate, the right moment almost regardless of the time on the clock.

The go to verse to show kairos is Mark 1:14-15 “Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, ‘The TIME is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’” That’s kairos time — a God moment.

So as a pastor, as a Christian, I am aware of the danger of being sucked into thinking time is something to fight against, something to be freed from. In fact, God might be using time to do God’s business. But, all that being true still  doesn’t necessarily mean I feel as if I use my time wisely, or that my time is best spent to serve, or even that the way I spend time is faithful at all.

Here’s a few things I’ve figured out re time and ministry, but I’d love to hear more from you all:

• Emails can wait. When getting to the office, reading for 20-30 minutes is a real handy way of scheduling study time.
• Saying “no” is a gift. Saying “no” is often a good idea.
• No matter how many hours I work in a week, it’ll always feel like there’s something more to do.
• Twitter and Facebook are really valuable ministry tools, but I needn’t use them constantly.
• Thinking of my day in blocks is helpful. If I have meetings at night, cutting afternoon work short is a good idea.
• Schedule time to study, don’t just say “I should read this week.” (Ok, I’m no good at this, but I’m aware at least.)
• Sometimes, often in fact, opportunities for real ministry are unscheduled — the conversation at the post office, the person who pops into the office unscheduled.
• Writing a sermon while at the office just doesn’t work. I need to start scheduling more time away from the office and not feel guilty about it.
• Visits — along with study — tend to be the first thing that get cut from a busy week. Some visits to those ill have to be done, the other visits get pushed off easily.

Ok, I’ll stop there. Often, when thinking about this stuff, I recall Eugene Peterson’s book “Under the Unpredictable Plant: An Exploration in Vocational Holiness.” He gets this stuff, but I also don’t quite think his experience is easily translatable to other contexts.

So this friend of mine who says he’s not busy, says what he primarily does is “Spend my days listening for God, and enabling my congregation to do the same.” Maybe that’s something else to keep in mind. May God’s time allow it.

image by Rich DuBose