Resting From the Day of Rest
I've put off writing this post for a couple of weeks now -- mostly because I worry a bit that I'm going to come across as though I'm complaining about certain aspects of pastoral ministry, and that is not my aim here at all -- I don't feel any "complaint" towards this part of pastoral ministry. But, over the past seven weeks, I've had the opportunity to experience Sundays in a way that I haven't had (at least for this many consecutive weeks) in over 10 years.
Sundays, I suppose, mean different things for different people. For some, it's family day. For others, perhaps a day to catch up on paying bills, working in the garden, or tackling projects around the house. For many in my adopted state of Oregon, it's a day to head out to the hiking trails, waterfalls, or coastline that so beautifully characterize the state. For Christians, Sundays usually include a time set aside for worship, quite likely alongside of some of these other elements -- family time, outdoor time, "stuff" around the house... At any rate, Sundays usually stand apart from the rest of the week (I suspect this is true, even for those with no religious affiliation -- your "weekend routine" differs from your "weekend routine").
As a pastor, Sundays are different altogether. In some ways, they represent the culmination of an extensive period of work. Every pastor is different, of course, and so for me, Sundays are actually the conclusion of work that began three weeks prior. A sermon that began in its infancy usually 17 days earlier is finally brought to life when the message is preached in a worship service. It's incredibly gratifying -- there is a lot of study, reflection, more study, wrestling with the text, reading the passage in the original language, and then trying to find the best way to communicate that in ways that are relevant, and understandable. Often, it goes well -- and it is fulfilling to see how God can take my words (which seem so inadequate) and use them to feed His people with His truth. Sometimes it doesn't go well -- a sermon I thought would hit home instead falls flat. That's okay too. Sometimes we need to learn from our mistakes. Let me say again that Sundays are usually very good days -- it is immensely fulfilling to host worship for God's people, and to play a part in what God is doing.
But in any case, Sundays, and worship become different experiences for the Pastor. Last Saturday night, our family joined with some good friends of ours and took in a movie at Salem's Riverfront Park. We've done this before, and it's a highlight of our summer. But often, it's a bit harder for me to relax on a Saturday night. In the back of my mind, I know that, in the words of an old African-American preacher, "Sunday's a comin'." I know that I'll have to wake up early, and prepare for what ends up being a full day. I feel the pressure on Sundays -- pressure to do my best, pressure to deliver a message as best I can. There is also the "unknowns" that come with Sundays. Sometimes, conflicts arise on Sunday. Or problems and concerns are brought to my attention that will end up requiring a significant amount of emotional, mental, and spiritual energy to address. Going into a Sunday, I know that all of that may be waiting for me -- and so it's not always easy to fully relax on the Saturdays before I preach. Even Saturdays during the day aren't as easy to enjoy. There's time spent in the office, going through the sermons one last time. Dealing with any last changes to the service that may come up. And it's not uncommon to carry around a nagging concern that maybe that sermon isn't going to "work" as well as I thought.
So, weekends on Sabbatical have been greatly enriched. It's been refreshing to be able to enjoy a day to prepare for worship without the added pressure of preparing to lead worship. Recreation has been that much more recreational. Even the freedom to go away for a weekend without needing to take vacation time to do it feels somewhat liberating.
We've spent Sundays worshipping with a local Presbyterian Church. I've had some connections with a couple of their members over the years, and I've enjoyed getting to know this congregation over the last while. I'll say here again that being away from our church hasn't been easy -- we've missed the congregation more than we thought. I ran into a member from our church at the grocery store last week and I think I surprised (maybe embarassed?!) her when I gave her a hug. Hey, we miss our church family! But Evergreen has been a good -- if temporary -- resting place for us. We've been nourished by the messages there, as well as the singing and the liturgy. It doesn't exactly feel like home (and that's not because of anything they have or haven't done) but it feels like a perfect resting spot for us at this time.
One benefit again has been the opportunity to participate in worship as a congregant. Leading worship is a rare privilege -- lifting up the prayers on behalf of the people, inviting people to hear God's word in scripture, choosing songs for worship and encouraging the church to sing them, leading the celebration of the Lord's Supper -- not many get to do this, and I count it a great honor. If there is a downside (and truthfully, that doesn't quite feel like the right word) it's that the focus becomes on the work needed to do as a leader. During a worship service, I'm always thinking about what I need to be doing next. What words to choose. Are there two offerings this week, or just one? How can I frame a prayer of confession so that it will lead well into the song of response? "Don't forget to include that one last prayer request that Mrs. So-and-So gave you just before the service started..." Again, (I hope you sense by now that I'm trying not to complain!) these are not bad things. They're a part of this holy task of leading in worship.
As well, there's that little matter of not ever hearing a sermon through the usual means. Christians profess that we need to hear the word of God preached and to be nourished by it, regularly. Pastor's experience God's word, perhaps differently -- it happens in the study, it happens as we read the text, pray through it, study it -- and even as we preach it. There are occasions I can recall in which I'm preaching a text, but it feels almost like it's being preached to me. But many pastors don't have the opportunity to sit back and take in a message simply as a hearer. (There are ways to do this which I've found useful -- I make it a habit to listen to a wide variety of sermons, many from colleagues across my denomination, whom I will randomly choose, and hear their sermons off the web; I listen to podcasts of well-known preachers as well). Even when I'm not preaching at Sunnyslope, I'm usually in the role of listening as a mentor -- trying to evaluate and offer constructive criticism of a message preached by our interns. Doing this can shift the focus just a bit, so that I'm not only hearing and being nourished by God's word, but I'm also listening with the ear of a teacher. Again, not a bad thing -- just different.
So it's been an invaluable part of my "Rest" time this summer to have a different kind of Sunday. To have the opportunity to receive the sacraments, to hear God's word preached, to worship without the pressures of having to lead. It's been good to be able to sit with my wife and kids and worship as a family.
It's also gotten me thinking about habits that I can form in the long run for healthy Sunday worship. I'm wondering how our family can ensure that Sundays aren't just days that Dad has to focus on work. What can we do to add the joy of rest? I can I continue to ensure that Sundays remain a day that is both restful and worshipful even as they are (for me) a day of Holy work?
I'm not sure I've figured this out yet. But this time of rest has helped me ask these important questions. In the meantime, we're grateful for the way that we are being nourished over the summer, and we look forward with great anticipation to coming back to our own church home.
Sundays, I suppose, mean different things for different people. For some, it's family day. For others, perhaps a day to catch up on paying bills, working in the garden, or tackling projects around the house. For many in my adopted state of Oregon, it's a day to head out to the hiking trails, waterfalls, or coastline that so beautifully characterize the state. For Christians, Sundays usually include a time set aside for worship, quite likely alongside of some of these other elements -- family time, outdoor time, "stuff" around the house... At any rate, Sundays usually stand apart from the rest of the week (I suspect this is true, even for those with no religious affiliation -- your "weekend routine" differs from your "weekend routine").
As a pastor, Sundays are different altogether. In some ways, they represent the culmination of an extensive period of work. Every pastor is different, of course, and so for me, Sundays are actually the conclusion of work that began three weeks prior. A sermon that began in its infancy usually 17 days earlier is finally brought to life when the message is preached in a worship service. It's incredibly gratifying -- there is a lot of study, reflection, more study, wrestling with the text, reading the passage in the original language, and then trying to find the best way to communicate that in ways that are relevant, and understandable. Often, it goes well -- and it is fulfilling to see how God can take my words (which seem so inadequate) and use them to feed His people with His truth. Sometimes it doesn't go well -- a sermon I thought would hit home instead falls flat. That's okay too. Sometimes we need to learn from our mistakes. Let me say again that Sundays are usually very good days -- it is immensely fulfilling to host worship for God's people, and to play a part in what God is doing.
But in any case, Sundays, and worship become different experiences for the Pastor. Last Saturday night, our family joined with some good friends of ours and took in a movie at Salem's Riverfront Park. We've done this before, and it's a highlight of our summer. But often, it's a bit harder for me to relax on a Saturday night. In the back of my mind, I know that, in the words of an old African-American preacher, "Sunday's a comin'." I know that I'll have to wake up early, and prepare for what ends up being a full day. I feel the pressure on Sundays -- pressure to do my best, pressure to deliver a message as best I can. There is also the "unknowns" that come with Sundays. Sometimes, conflicts arise on Sunday. Or problems and concerns are brought to my attention that will end up requiring a significant amount of emotional, mental, and spiritual energy to address. Going into a Sunday, I know that all of that may be waiting for me -- and so it's not always easy to fully relax on the Saturdays before I preach. Even Saturdays during the day aren't as easy to enjoy. There's time spent in the office, going through the sermons one last time. Dealing with any last changes to the service that may come up. And it's not uncommon to carry around a nagging concern that maybe that sermon isn't going to "work" as well as I thought.
So, weekends on Sabbatical have been greatly enriched. It's been refreshing to be able to enjoy a day to prepare for worship without the added pressure of preparing to lead worship. Recreation has been that much more recreational. Even the freedom to go away for a weekend without needing to take vacation time to do it feels somewhat liberating.
We've spent Sundays worshipping with a local Presbyterian Church. I've had some connections with a couple of their members over the years, and I've enjoyed getting to know this congregation over the last while. I'll say here again that being away from our church hasn't been easy -- we've missed the congregation more than we thought. I ran into a member from our church at the grocery store last week and I think I surprised (maybe embarassed?!) her when I gave her a hug. Hey, we miss our church family! But Evergreen has been a good -- if temporary -- resting place for us. We've been nourished by the messages there, as well as the singing and the liturgy. It doesn't exactly feel like home (and that's not because of anything they have or haven't done) but it feels like a perfect resting spot for us at this time.
One benefit again has been the opportunity to participate in worship as a congregant. Leading worship is a rare privilege -- lifting up the prayers on behalf of the people, inviting people to hear God's word in scripture, choosing songs for worship and encouraging the church to sing them, leading the celebration of the Lord's Supper -- not many get to do this, and I count it a great honor. If there is a downside (and truthfully, that doesn't quite feel like the right word) it's that the focus becomes on the work needed to do as a leader. During a worship service, I'm always thinking about what I need to be doing next. What words to choose. Are there two offerings this week, or just one? How can I frame a prayer of confession so that it will lead well into the song of response? "Don't forget to include that one last prayer request that Mrs. So-and-So gave you just before the service started..." Again, (I hope you sense by now that I'm trying not to complain!) these are not bad things. They're a part of this holy task of leading in worship.
As well, there's that little matter of not ever hearing a sermon through the usual means. Christians profess that we need to hear the word of God preached and to be nourished by it, regularly. Pastor's experience God's word, perhaps differently -- it happens in the study, it happens as we read the text, pray through it, study it -- and even as we preach it. There are occasions I can recall in which I'm preaching a text, but it feels almost like it's being preached to me. But many pastors don't have the opportunity to sit back and take in a message simply as a hearer. (There are ways to do this which I've found useful -- I make it a habit to listen to a wide variety of sermons, many from colleagues across my denomination, whom I will randomly choose, and hear their sermons off the web; I listen to podcasts of well-known preachers as well). Even when I'm not preaching at Sunnyslope, I'm usually in the role of listening as a mentor -- trying to evaluate and offer constructive criticism of a message preached by our interns. Doing this can shift the focus just a bit, so that I'm not only hearing and being nourished by God's word, but I'm also listening with the ear of a teacher. Again, not a bad thing -- just different.
So it's been an invaluable part of my "Rest" time this summer to have a different kind of Sunday. To have the opportunity to receive the sacraments, to hear God's word preached, to worship without the pressures of having to lead. It's been good to be able to sit with my wife and kids and worship as a family.
It's also gotten me thinking about habits that I can form in the long run for healthy Sunday worship. I'm wondering how our family can ensure that Sundays aren't just days that Dad has to focus on work. What can we do to add the joy of rest? I can I continue to ensure that Sundays remain a day that is both restful and worshipful even as they are (for me) a day of Holy work?
I'm not sure I've figured this out yet. But this time of rest has helped me ask these important questions. In the meantime, we're grateful for the way that we are being nourished over the summer, and we look forward with great anticipation to coming back to our own church home.
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