Most church council meetings begin with the same thing: a devotion—which invariably means me—as pastor—talking and/or teaching, with others only responding when directly called upon. Last night’s monthly council meeting, however, began differently: with listening. Instead of commencing with me offering some Scripture or wisdom to guide our discernment and decisions in the business of the church, the voices heard were those of everyone else in the room. Don’t get me wrong, I can talk; if need be, I can fill the void of silence with plenty of noise. Yet, dwelling in silence—waiting and listening to another person is a far more difficult (and yet meaningful) task than talking. The change last night served as an exercise (or personal devotion of its own kind) for me in listening to others. Restraining from talking (which was no easy task), I listened to each council member.
One of the temptations I have recently discovered as a new pastor is blindly assuming that parishioners—church council members even more so—have an infinite availability in their personal lives to accomplish any and all church-related tasks immediately. I’m really not sure where or how I picked up this assumption. It’s not as if the tables were turned I would be able to hold up to such an unrealistic standard. Nevertheless, recently I was perturbed about a discrepancy between (someone else’s) results and (my own) expectations; and like God shoving me off of my self-assembled pedestal, it hit me (or perhaps I hit it): “What was I expecting? This person has a busy life: Monday through Saturday.” In that moment, shame washed over me like a shower I had desperately needed—washing away my self-righteousness, with grace seeping into my cleansed pores and filling me from bottom to top. The more I reflected on it, in the days that followed, I thought about how I had never asked that person what their Monday through Saturday life consisted of. I had not taken the time to learn about who they are below the surface. I had just assumed (and we all know what assuming does) that everyone else worked on church-related stuff all weeklong like me—the foolish pastor.
I hope (for the sake of being in good company) that I’m not the only pastor who has ever fallen entrapped in such a nonsensical thinking: a vocational amnesia (if you will). Therefore, instead of starting another church council meeting with me trying to give something to others or attempting to shape their thinking, this time I left the teaching to everyone else. I sat there, and I listened. As each person around the table shared, they told me about their Monday through Saturday lives. I heard people talk about work, ranging from farming hundreds of acres of corn and soy beans to teaching a classroom of rambunctious elementary students five days a week. I heard about families, and the daily demands and expectations they bring. I heard about volunteer involvement with community organizations. I heard about personal hobbies that bring a sense of accomplishment and renewal. As I sat there quietly listening, I was enlightened in a way that can only be attributed as a work of the Holy Spirit. I learned about each person in new ways: who they are, what they do, where they go, how they navigate their days and weeks, and why they do everything. I learned about the many different facets that drawn together form a life. I learned about the places, people, and work that is all informed by these devoted people’s faith. I learned about what all life happens before I see them enter into the sanctuary and after I see them leave worship on Sundays. And, I began to learn—at a very basic level—what Jesus meant when he instructed those around him: “listen and understand” and “all those who have ears to hear, listen.” From this enlightening exercise (or devotion), I pray that the Holy Spirit continues to work in opening my ears and closing my lips as I learn who the people are—Monday through Saturday lives included—that God has blessed me to work alongside in this church.
One of the temptations I have recently discovered as a new pastor is blindly assuming that parishioners—church council members even more so—have an infinite availability in their personal lives to accomplish any and all church-related tasks immediately. I’m really not sure where or how I picked up this assumption. It’s not as if the tables were turned I would be able to hold up to such an unrealistic standard. Nevertheless, recently I was perturbed about a discrepancy between (someone else’s) results and (my own) expectations; and like God shoving me off of my self-assembled pedestal, it hit me (or perhaps I hit it): “What was I expecting? This person has a busy life: Monday through Saturday.” In that moment, shame washed over me like a shower I had desperately needed—washing away my self-righteousness, with grace seeping into my cleansed pores and filling me from bottom to top. The more I reflected on it, in the days that followed, I thought about how I had never asked that person what their Monday through Saturday life consisted of. I had not taken the time to learn about who they are below the surface. I had just assumed (and we all know what assuming does) that everyone else worked on church-related stuff all weeklong like me—the foolish pastor.
I hope (for the sake of being in good company) that I’m not the only pastor who has ever fallen entrapped in such a nonsensical thinking: a vocational amnesia (if you will). Therefore, instead of starting another church council meeting with me trying to give something to others or attempting to shape their thinking, this time I left the teaching to everyone else. I sat there, and I listened. As each person around the table shared, they told me about their Monday through Saturday lives. I heard people talk about work, ranging from farming hundreds of acres of corn and soy beans to teaching a classroom of rambunctious elementary students five days a week. I heard about families, and the daily demands and expectations they bring. I heard about volunteer involvement with community organizations. I heard about personal hobbies that bring a sense of accomplishment and renewal. As I sat there quietly listening, I was enlightened in a way that can only be attributed as a work of the Holy Spirit. I learned about each person in new ways: who they are, what they do, where they go, how they navigate their days and weeks, and why they do everything. I learned about the many different facets that drawn together form a life. I learned about the places, people, and work that is all informed by these devoted people’s faith. I learned about what all life happens before I see them enter into the sanctuary and after I see them leave worship on Sundays. And, I began to learn—at a very basic level—what Jesus meant when he instructed those around him: “listen and understand” and “all those who have ears to hear, listen.” From this enlightening exercise (or devotion), I pray that the Holy Spirit continues to work in opening my ears and closing my lips as I learn who the people are—Monday through Saturday lives included—that God has blessed me to work alongside in this church.
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