What I'm Doing With Six Months "Off"

"What will you be doing for six months?"

The question comes up a lot these days.

Folks from my faith community mostly are asking it.  They're referring to a six month hiatus from having any presence at all at Highview between June 1 and December 1, 2018.  This is an important piece in the transition between myself and Highview's new Senior Pastor Erin Wildsmith, as I step into a new role, Missionary In Residence.

What a wonderful gift to be asked to remain part of the community I love so deeply, to have their full support for the work in Thailand, and to know that, at the proper time, I can come home to worship again.

But first, there's six months away.  What will I do?

For those who know me, it won't come as any great surprise you to know that I have a list.

1.  New Office Space

The first order of business is to move out of my office. I am so grateful for Erin's patience as I have asked that this not happen until after the goodbye service on Sunday, May 27th.  I just knew I would need to still have my office intact on that day, so I could say a proper, private, early hours goodbye.  This office has been a sacred space to me for a very long time.  God has been so very present, always. Countless sermons, personal break-throughs, moments of revelation and vision and surrender.  Pain, joy, frustration, awe.  Deep and beautiful conversations with folks exploring the nuances of spiritual formation and the complex matters of life.  So much prayer.

I have truly loved being in my office.

But now I am just as truly glad for Erin, to entrust it to her.  For her to finally have a space where she can concentrate and spread out a little and have actual shelves for her books.  To let it become a sacredness of its own for the ministry God has so clearly called her to at Highview.

AND, while it will be different, I am also looking forward to setting up and settling in to my space downstairs at home that will become "the office" for all the new things God is bringing.  Another sacred space no doubt.

2.  Sabbath and Restoration

When it was first suggested that a six month hiatus would be in order, and that this would start at the beginning of the summer, more or less, it wasn't hard to imagine myself being up at the cottage for as much of it as possible.  In this time of letting go and moving toward new things, there has been for me a strong sense that God is calling me to a time of deep rest.  To just be for a bit.  Not to put too much on the calendar.  Not to expect too much of myself.  To release the sense of responsibility and availability the pastoral life demands, and just sit in unhurried ways for a bit, to listen.  To grieve what I've left behind.  To prepare for what's to come.

A big part of this for me is to refocus on the self care of eating properly, exercising more expansively, and just being quiet. This deep invitation by God is matched by deep longing in my soul.  I am curious to know who will emerge from this extended time of sabbath.

 3.  Directed Reading and Research

I'm working, ever so slowly, on this Masters of Divinity degree at Tyndale University and Seminary.  Ever.  So.  Slowly.  During the time of my life when I was fully engaged as the pastor of a local church, I was really only able to do one, maybe two credits per year.  Now, with just five more to go, I am hoping, planning, exited to think about getting this done in good time.

For right now, I have been approved to earn a needed Christian Education Elective credit through something called a Directed Reading and Research course.  Basically, I will be working with a professor towards the out-of-class work described in the syllabus we have created together.  The fancy title for this course is "Incarnational Cross-Cultural Christian Education:  Strategies Toward Reciprocal Learning".  I don't blame you if that doesn't sound as thrilling to you as it does to me, but I am actually really pumped about it!!!  It includes a six week 'on the ground' component where I will be at Hot Springs actually teaching.  And it includes a final research paper that touches on some of the passions I've been developing in incarcational ministry, that maybe, hopefully, perhaps could end up being expanded into a body of work that might actually be helpful in this field.

This is already underway and I'm already putting time and brain power towards it.  And if all goes well, it will all be completed around the same time as the six months is done.

 4.  Hot Springs

Of course.  It goes without saying that with six months 'free' my heart would pull me to the other side of the world.  Truth is, I miss them all the time, I just do.  So two trips are planned within this six months.  One will be a shorter trip in July, and then the six week stint described above.

Already, even in preparing for July, I am thoroughly enjoying the time I have to give better preparation to sermons and lessons taught while there.  I have been told by Thais that the general impression is that Western Christians are better theologically trained than their Asian counterparts, mostly, only because of available schools and resources.  I am not entirely convinced this is true.  Either way, it seems only fitting to share what little experience and education I have been given with Suradet and Yupa, the children, the dear folks at Hot Springs Church, and perhaps other pastors who badly need encouragement and training.  Encouraging other Thai pastors is another growing passion of my heart.

All this is the beginning formation of the role of Missionary In Residence.  Even though I won't be back at Highview until December, the ministry in Thailand continues and I will be doing more of the work I love in supporting what Suradet and Yupa are doing with our kids.

5.  Other Wonderful Things

In a more general way, there are lots of things that will keep me occupied any time I'm not doing what I've just described.  For example, our house needs a lot of work.  I have a list for that too (and yes, you just heard my husband groan).

As well, it will be very lovely for me to be able to be more of a 'Go to Gramma' for PD Days, sick days, and other school holidays.  The priority of being a energetic part of my grandchildren's lives can now have more room.



So that's what I think will keep me moving, growing, leading, loving, and otherwise occupied from the end of May until the beginning of December.  It's a lovely list.

And as I have often said, I am unspeakably grateful for the abundant life I am living.  I could never have imagined it.  Really.

Makes me curious to see what God's got in mind for this next phase of my life.

The Cobweb of Confession

It all starts so innocently.

At home on a Monday with the sun shining in just at the right time, I catch a glimpse of a solitary strand of cobweb up on the top of one of the kitchen cupboards.  My casual flick of the dishcloth doesn't quite take care of it.  So I go to fetch the step ladder.

Later I will identify this my first fatal error.

Up just that one step higher, I realize with a small remembrance of 'housewife guilt' (yes, I'm from that era) that there is actually quite a collection of cob webs up here.  As I trace my eye across the top of the entire kitchen, I try to recall the last time this kitchen had a top-to-bottom cleaning, and feel shame.  Not that much shame, because I'm hardly the only one who lives here, and it's not like I haven't been otherwise unoccupied, and after all there hasn't been that much sunshine when I've actually been home to notice it before this, and at least I've already started cleaning the windows for spring.  So not that much shame.

But enough to climb all the way up and get those wispy guilt-trippers.

Later I will identify this as my second fatal error.

I will not fully describe what I discover once at the top of the cupboard, for two reasons.  One, I want to respect those readers who have a more sensitive stomach.  Two, the shame thing again.  It's enough to report that now that I am up on the counter itself, I am suddenly motivated to do some hard core spring cleaning, right here, right now!

Moving preciously up and down the ladder a few times, I arm myself with rubber gloves, cleaner and a rag that I fully intend to throw out at the end of the mission.  I clean just one section.  It takes all morning.  I feel tired in my arms like I know it's going to hurt tomorrow.

When it's done I make a cup of tea and survey my work.  Other than the absence of that one initiating cobweb, there is no evidence whatsoever of my efforts.  None.  I sip my tea and contemplate life's futility.  The cupboard looks exactly as it did when I started.

But it is clean.  It's a hidden clean, but it's clean!

And then this metaphor.

Because the kitchen isn't the only area of my life I've been hard core cleaning these days.  I have an office to move.  I have files to purge and organize.  I have a ministry to hand over in good order.   And as I start with the small things, like a cob web that strangely looks like a stapler, or an office chair, or some commentaries, I am led deeper into places of my soul that I thought were okay, but to my dismayed surprise are not.  I realize that there are dark corners of my psyche and soul on which, despite my self-illusion that I live a totally surrendered life, greasy layers have taken a grimy grasp. 



Hidden places.

The psalmist prays a dangerous prayer.

"Search me, God, and know my heart,
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting."
Psalm 139:23-24

The virgin makes a dangerous agreement.

"I am the Lord's servant.
Be it done to me as you have said."
Luke 1:38

And there's nothing for it but to lay it all down again.
The only fatal error being NOT getting up on that ladder to see.
Do the hard work of it until my arms and my heart hurt.
Clean out the hidden places that have been neglected.
Get this back to the top.
Receive the forgiveness and mercy that obliterates the shame.
And live free of it.


Because any other life is futile.

All or nothing, Jesus, just like you did for me.










 

A Hug In Reverse

So, I'm going just come out and say it.

Even in the midst of so many joys, opportunities and new things waiting, this entire season of letting go has been painful.  And it's only getting worse the closer it gets.

In less than two months, May 27,  I will officially step down as Highview's Senior Pastor.  Even in writing that out just now, I've stopped to heave an involuntary deep, and slightly shuddered sigh.   Okay, more honestly, I've been pretty weepy these past few days.

It's that big a deal.  Because....love.

When you've loved a certain way, with a certain freedom and permission, if you will, for this many years, it becomes far more part of your chemistry and synapses and DNA and heartbeat and breathing and being than you could ever have imagined.

Problem is, I love Highview with all of me.  And love makes this letting go really sting.

And lately I've realized it feels like what I'm doing right now is very much like the opposite of a hug.  Like a hug in reverse.  Everything that prompts a hug - the desire to hold close, draw near, be fully present in the moment of - I'm feeling all the feels of that, but doing the exact opposite.

In my leadership, shepherding, pastoral life, I have had by default the honour of knowing and being known, loving and being loved in ways that run into the deeper places of our lives.  I have stood in holy places with you, beautiful and wretched, where life is most real and love is grown; birthing beds and death beds, gravesides and coffee shops turned into confession booths, emergency rooms, ICUs, and in ceremonies, indoors and out, where vows are spoken.

And also, even less intensely, in the every day way of loving that a pastor just does, just making sure things run smoothly, leading meetings, following up on all the nuanced conversations, scooping up all the body language, building teams, praying, studying, preaching.  All of it.  It was - is - all part of how I have hoped to love you.

But this season I have handed over, delegated, stepped aside, released, let it be someone else.  Someone capable and humble and ready and respected.  And it all feels very, very right, and good and freeing, and part of a true and fascinating story God has been writing for our church. 

There is  no worry in my mind at all that Highview won't be well loved when I'm gone.  Just, know that.  And I have lots else to do.  This is also very true.  It's not like I'm bored or lonely or wondering what comes next.  My days are full still, even as the shift begins, and I map out weeks now that include more time for some of the things that are ahead of me.

But it still just feels so weird that I'm not 'doing' all those love things I used to do.  Feels like indifference, neglect, like I don't care, or at least that it looks that way, even though inside of me love rages on.

But this is the most loving thing to do now.
Let go.
And go away.
For a while.

Like a hug in reverse.

So....in real time hugs, I'm going after as many of those as I can for these next eight Sundays.  Fair warning.

[Don't worry.  The non-huggers in my life and congregation have nothing to fear.  You know I know who you are and love you just the same, just the way you are, and won't be bugging hugging you.  Well, not too much, at least.]

But the hugs in real time will help, I think.  I hope they help you know I love you, even as I let go of this.  And the hugs will help me too, so thank you in advance.

Because the joy at the other end of all of this is that I don't have to go all the way away.

Three time periods chunk themselves out before us.

Now to May 27 - Letting go and getting in as many real time hugs as I can.

June 1 to December 1 - A time of deep resting for me, and for allowing space for Highview to continue to be amazing.

December 2 and onward - A new era of being with you.  And the real time hugs can happen again.

Oh Highview, do you know how much I love you?  Do you?

It would be such a shame if, somehow, you didn't know this by now.

Sonrise Manifesto

Resurrection Morning!

Jesus breaks loose!

Nothing will ever be the same!

Mourning gives way to morning.
Sorrow submits to joy.
Death surrenders to victory.
Futility relinquishes to hope.

Freedom indescribable,
unbelievable,
unbreathable. 

 

Right here.

Right now.

Right everything and everywhere.

 

Forever.

And ever.

Jesus rules the sunrise.
Every.
Single.
Time.

Every sunrise remembers this sacredly.

Every sunrise sings this fiercely.

Every sunrise rebirths the earth all new and wild and waiting.

And I am consumed with it!
Reborn in it!
Given all the reckless gifts of it!
Resurrection morning!

Freeze Frame Crucifixion

John 19:17

Carrying his own cross, he went out to the place of the Skull.

For nearly two and a half years I have been writing out the gospel of John.   In Greek, English and Thai, verse by verse, one each day, it's become a labour of love and a discipline of slowing that I have come to find deeply centering.

Until right now.

John 19:18

There they crucified him.

Right now, by no plan that could ever have been calculated, I am writing out the Crucifixion during Lent.

Slowly.

Frame by frame.

And it's awful.

John 19:25

Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother.

In my notebook Jesus dies very, very slowly.

A little bit each day.

It takes a long time.

John 19:28

Later, knowing that everything had now been finished, Jesus, "I am thirsty."

I am uncomfortable.

Squeamish even.

It makes me realize a startling truth about myself.  That even with a life time of knowing the story, even having seen the movies and pictures many times over, even with the responsibility of preaching this stuff every year for Easter, and often enough in between, I am rather inclined to read through all this misery very quickly.  I don't even let my eyes linger too long on the pages of my Bible.  It's too gory.  Too horrible.  Too wretched to watch my Jesus in such agony.  Let's just hurry past this to the garden, and Mary ecstatic with joy when He says her name.


But the practice of writing out only.  One.  Verse.  Each.  Day.  Forces a long and awful pause beside the cross.

And so here I am.   Taking a drawn and grief-smacked look at the bloodied face of the One I love so much.

Oh King of my heart
I can almost smell Your wounds,
the Blood

No wonder they all ran away
The flesh-torn mess is sickening
I want to run

But this time
I'll not rush past,
averting my eyes
Instead
I'll stand here
for as long as it takes 
And stare a good long time
at Your face
Your eyes,
filled with blood
and grace
and pain
and unspeakable purity

And Love

slowly

dying.

John 19:30

When he had received the drink, Jesus said, "It is finished."  

With that he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

Photo Credit:  Dave Driver

Both-Way Mentoring: Another Joy of This Season of Life

It happens frequently, by random triggers.  Throughout a normal ministry week, I come across regular reminders that I have been mightily invested in by many magnificent mentors.

I wrestle with some slippery piece of theology in conversation or sermon prep, and realize again the important contribution of particularly one professor who has generously shared so much of his knowledge and resources to help me be a better theologian and preacher.

I am invited into a delicate dilemma of life, asked for direction, and remember those who have come alongside me when I needed the same, particularly one professional counsellor who has been a sounding board for me over many, many years.

I am faced with a leadership challenge, and recall the opportunities given to me by pastors in my past that pushed me and shaped me into the leader I am today, feeling especially grateful for the way some of them had to work through their own theological discomfort with me being female and a leader (yes, I'm from that era).

Frequently this happens.  And I am beyond words grateful.

Also, as a direct result of this mentoring being poured into my life, I have been given the great gift of mentoring others, particularly in this last decade of my life.

And now, in embracing the new things that are ahead of me, it is becoming more and more obvious that there is more mentoring in my future.  I have been a mentor to various individuals at various stages of my life, and currently have the joy of filling that role with some pretty keen individuals who will no doubt go way farther than I can take them throughout the course of their life.  I anticipate this with joy.

Mentoring is amazing, beautiful, and life-giving; when it works.  And particularly, in my experience at least, when it goes "both ways".

How I understand mentoring in my faith-based world is that there is a desire, on the part of a mentee, for spiritual formation and vocational competencies that is backed by intentionality and effort, and facilitated by someone, a mentor, who is further along in their own growth and journey.  

In my context, those vocational competencies are all about leading a spiritual community of faith, usually in the pastoral role.  But in a broader sense, Christian mentoring would encompass competencies required in the marketplace, home and general community; in other words, wherever God has called us to serve in the kingdom. 

In my own experience, for what it's worth and like I've said, I have found that mentoring is most effective when it goes both ways.  And Both-Way Mentoring seems to happen best when a few important elements are in place.

1.  Both parties want to and are clear on expectations.

Bobb Biehl in his book Mentoring: Confidence in Finding a Mentor and Becoming One talks about the formation of a mentoring relationship.

"The mentoring relationship is formed when the mentor turns to the protege and says,

 "I love you, I believe in you, I want to help you succeed. 

 I want to make my experience and resources available to help you in any way I can 

to become all that God wants you to be." 

I agree to a point.  But I think this only describes half of the story.  I think it takes a mentee (protege) who in return says, "I respect you and want to learn from you, realizing that you have experience and resources that will help me become all God wants me to be."

This means that there is a desire on the part of the mentor to contribute, that is matched by a desire on the part of the mentee to receive, and this mutual desire has been clearly communicated.

I only recently learned to ask very directly whether or not a potential mentee believed I had anything to offer them, and if they actually did want me to speak into their lives.  It was a pivotal moment in our relationship.  Mentors, if you think you're mentoring but there's no end of push-back and resistance, you may not have a true mentoring relationship, but instead are actually nagging and interfering.  Just because other things may be set up to look like you're mentoring someone, eg. the person is a member of your team or on your staff, doesn't mean that in their mind they want you as a mentor. I wish I had learned to be this direct much earlier.  It would have saved me and the unfortunate "non-mentees" I was irritating a whole lot of frustration.  

Likewise, mentees, if you are trying to draw from a mentor who doesn't really know they're your mentor, you may be feeling neglected, misunderstood, even unloved by someone you admire, which can be painful.  Ask outright.  Make it clear that you desire to learn from them and invite their voice into your life.  Be specific about what it looks like in terms of how often you will interact, what the content of your conversations will include, and how much 'correction' they actually are invited to give.

When both parties are equally engaged and are clear about the expectations, the mentoring relationship has so much more to offer.

2.  Declare a "No Cloning" Zone

It can be tempting to assume that a mentee will be successful in the same ways you as mentor have been successful.  That if they just model you in every way, then their ministry will thrive.  Please resist this temptation at every cost.  It is arrogance and it is sin.  

Mentees, you are your own person with a unique set of gifts, temperaments and passions.  And while it may be true that there are enough similarities between yourself and your mentor to make it a good fit, you are not called to be your mentor.  You are called to be you.  

Celebrating those differences, and focusing on the mentee's strengths and journey is the best path to helping him or her become all God meant for them to be. It reflects a higher degree of personal maturity and sense of one's own secure identity for both parties to 'get' this, identify this, work on this.

This might seem obvious, but I have found it a huge deterrent to learning when the uniqueness of both mentor and mentee is not clearly and regularly spoken, affirmed and celebrated.

3.  The humility of learning goes both ways.

In the context of a discussion about wisdom, and the length and breadth of my years of ministry, being sixty, and coming into this era of my life, someone actually asked me the other day if I get impatient with all the 'lesser thans' in my life.  I wish I could tell you that they meant it as a joke,   Like the exaggerated character of Sherlock Holmes in the BBC series starring Benedict Cumberbatch (an excellent series by the way), who is ever so tolerant of all the 'ordinary' people around him.  Yes, that's what this person was asking.  

What?!  I paused, and then said, "There are no any lesser-thans in my life."

God forbid the day when I begin to see others, especially my mentees, as 'lesser-thans'!  God forbid the day when any mentor begins to believe they have stopped learning or are superior in any way!  That's not how this works.  A mentor only qualifies to be a mentor if they model the thirst for spiritual formation and the humility of learning that they are hoping to instill in others.

"We are forever students; we are forever taught.  Each one who hears the words of Jesus, first to follow and then to go and teach others to obey, stands in a long line of disciples that originated with twelve followers hand-picked by Jesus, the rabbi-carpenter of Nazareth."  

Keith Anderson and Randy Reese from 

Spiritual Mentoring: A Guide to Seeking and Giving Direction.

This means that mentors will learn from our mentees.  Of course we will!  What amazing new ideas I have been privy to as my mentees have shared their journey with me.  What important corrective perspectives I have had to consider; insights into Scripture or humanity that I wouldn't have seen for myself.  This is particularly true as I have entered my sixties and absolutely need to learn the new ways of thinking that younger generations bring to the table.  And it's just generally true in life.  Everyone has something to teach us.

-------

It's been suggested that everyone is mentored by someone at some stage of their lives.

And that everyone mentors someone along the way as well.  That seems true to me. It is without question part of the richness of this stage of my life that I have experienced both, even the times when it has been less than ideal, and can look forward to whatever other opportunities to be mentored and to mentor in the days that are coming.

Both ways.  That's the joy.

Embracing The Uncertain

"Do one thing every day that scares you."  -  Eleanor Roosevelt

Right now this quote from Eleanor Roosevelt pretty much describes the road ahead of me in a season of transition.  Where I'm going in ministry, I've never been before.  Everything, everything is uncertain.  

This quote sits in my office at on a little shelf where I can see it easily it as I work.  It reminds me that my careful, structure-loving temperament has actually found unexpected delight in taking risks.  The kind of risks that scare me.  And I realize, with some amusement at this point of my life, that I actually am starting to like it.

This surprises me.  Even now as I approach my 61st birthday (which probably won't surprise you since I made such a BIG DEAL of turning 60 last spring), I am amused by the contrast between my childhood self and my now self.  "Ruth Anne needs to speak up more in class" my report cards always said.  I bordered on the rude side of shy right up until my mid teens.  I didn't want to try anything new.  I was afraid of, well, a lot of things.  If I wasn't sure I could control the outcome, then I didn't want to move ahead.  "Safe" was the strongest value.  "Certain" was a good thing, a smart thing even.

But something prevailed in my life to move me into a place where now I am not only willing to, but actually eager to embrace the uncertain.  That something was...an insane compunction to say "yes".

What a gift is the patient intention of a God who knows He's created you for so much more than staying "safe".  

I can see His hand time and time again, putting opportunities right smack in front of me, impossible to ignore, and terrifying for their lack of guaranteed success.  My first Sunday School class.  Camp counseling.  Getting married.  Having babies.  Home schooling.  New and increasing ministry leadership responsibilities being offered, to which I simply said 'yes', until one day I looked up and I was senior pastor of a thriving, grace-filled community of faith (and that's just about how it happened).  Opportunities for further education, community leadership, being welcomed onto teams doing important things across Ontario.  And then, as the icing on the cake, here at the other end of this long adventure, the next adventure presents itself and takes me half way around the world.  I have had no end of opportunities to step out into the uncertain.  There were failures, for sure.  But mostly, I have been over and again surprised and delighted by not just the outcomes, but what's happened inside of me.

Because here's what I've discovered.  As someone who is all about spiritual formation, fascinated by the process and effect on the human soul, here's one thing that seems to be consistently true for me, and for a lot of other people. 

A continued habit of stepping into opportunities that are ‘bigger than me’ cultivates a spiritual depth that can take you further than you ever imagined you would go.

In my world we talk a lot about spiritual disciplines - the practices which by repeated, patient application can grow your soul and move you deeper into intimacy with the Divine.  There are many recommended and beautiful and effective ways to do this.  Prayer.  Fasting.  Meditation.  Solitude.  Even Lent, in this season we find ourselves now.

But I wonder if taking risks and embracing the uncertain isn't something else we could add to the list. I wonder if "yes" isn't also a spiritual discipline.  Particularly in the face of fear.

So here I go again.  Saying yes to a new role we're calling "Missionary In Residence".  Never done this before.  A lot of new territory requiring lots of conversation, prayer, fumbling about, -  and courage, to be honest.  

But today, and for a whole lot of days ahead of me I hope, it will scare me into the certain and breath-taking embrace of God.  And there, in the uncertainty, I will be most secure.