I'm convinced that there are 3 types of bloggers in this world.
The first is the aspiring writer who can use their efforts to generate revenue.
The second is the hopeful writer who wishes they could break through to the point of making money from their efforts.
The third is the writer who forgets they have a blog and might remember to write a post every couple years.
I don't even remember the last post I wrote on here. I'd go back and check but in the time it took me to log in to this account I almost decided to not write. I'm not always a motivated individual, that much is obvious as reflected by my life at times.
I'll spare doing a really long update on life. Brevity isn't my strong suit but basically I resigned from a youth pastorate, accepted an opportunity that seems once in a lifetime for someone like me, quit that job a year later despite thoroughly enjoying it in order to move to be close to the woman I loved despite not knowing if we'd be able to make things work once we were close in proximity.
I married her a year and a half later (May of 2015). When it comes to gambling, maybe the house doesn't ALWAYS win.
It's.
Hard.
For.
Me.
To.
Go.
To.
Church.
But thanks to my wife (and my father-in-law being a pastor), I go just about every week. I skip every once in awhile when I'm ailing from the DontwannagetupearlyonaSunday bug or when I travel out of town (my introverted nature makes me feel stir crazy so a quick jaunt to OKC, Kansas City, etc can do a lot of good for my energy).
In college, a couple books connected with me that I think explain where I'm at in life; A Royal Waste of Time by Marva Dawn and Desiring the Kingdom by James K. A. Smith. They both dealt with the idea of pushing through the valleys of our spiritual life, maintaining habits that sometimes feel empty or a waste of time. Going to Church sometimes feels like a waste of time to me. In general, many congregations feel more like country clubs to me than community gardens. Instead of all being truly welcomed and expected to contribute and reap the harvest, it can sometimes feel like an emphasis on walls makes way for a pseudo community where only a few people contribute most.
There is an ongoing tension between viewing success by tangibles (number of attendees, tithing dollars, new buildings, and number of programs and ministries filling up the calendar) and viewing it by intangibles like whether the congregation is truly reflecting Jesus to the world around it. My critiques are not meant to be bitter grapes or negative toward the Christian Church. I truly say them as a way of expressing my hopes for what it might become.
I miss being a pastor.
And yet it won't surprise me if I never go back, partially due to my own fear and partially because I don't know if there is a church out there willing to let me lead. I've come to terms with this over time. It hasn't been easy.
I originally resigned for two reasons.
The first was that I felt that my teachings were poisoning those I was tasked with leading. This is strong and limited language. In truth I hold firmly to my convictions and do not regret that I preached the Gospel as I interpreted it. The problem was that the parents of my teens may not have been open to an interpretation that did not place the same emphasis on specific issues in society as theirs and the methods or action items of living out that interpretation were different than theirs. I'm generalizing obviously as this wasn't the case with everyone.
The second was that I quite simply couldn't afford to live on my salary. It wasn't that church's fault, just a reality I had to live in. The only financial aid advice I received in college was that I should sign my name on the correct line of a master promissory note if I didn't want to have to bring all those boxes I had just lugged up four flights of stairs back down and move out. At 18 you can smoke, vote, and enlist. You're an adult and facing up to the consequences of your actions is a tough lesson to learn. Nobody forced me to sign for those loans. I could have just dropped out and packed up my car.
...I do wish those folks who told me where to sign my name would have asked me what my major was (theology), what career I wanted (pastor), told me what I might make in a year (let's just say in the $30k or so range), and told me what kind of monthly payment I might be asked to make.
Before you label me a full millennial, it's still my fault.
During my time at SNU I was invited to participate in the ministerial internship program. Over the course of 4 years in that program it would pay the equivalent of 50% of the full tuition, with the amount increasing each year. Unfortunately for me the program decided shortly after I began that rather than all but guarantee 4 years in the program as had been the way it was done for previous years, it would make cuts each year, eliminating a small number each year. It created accountability.
After 2 years in the program, I was held accountable.
I skipped class, didn't do the reading, waited until the last minute to write papers. There were even times when I would show up to class and wonder why everyone just had a pencil out, not having bothered to check the syllabus to see an exam was coming up. For the most part the papers I wrote received an A grade but you can only pretend so much. My overall class grades were not up to par. My reputation was likely not favorable among my peers and the faculty. I missed class so much that I sometimes had daydream nightmares that I had forgotten I was enrolled in a class altogether.
They cut me. I deserved it. They didn't deserve to have to put up with me.
I don't write this to brag about getting by, nor to set up some grand redemption story. I felt like a jerk at the time, I feel even worse about it 5 years later.
God can give you a lifeboat but if you don't climb in, it's not anybody else's fault if you drown.
I write this apology to my professors and peers because they deserve it. I write this confession because I need it. It's not like it's anything they didn't know anyway.
And I write this because I want to tell you Reader, that the greatest lesson I learned from my time in college was that life does not owe anybody anything that they do not earn, for better or worse, and that we are all held accountable eventually.
You can't enjoy the cake if you don't show up to the banquet.
I struggle with wanting to go to Church. I struggle with wanting to read the Bible, with wanting to pray. I'd love to revert back to old habits and skip class (Church), not read the textbooks (scripture), and not put in the effort. I want to live a life that is self-centered, that places me as the god over my own life. I give in to that temptation sometimes, way more than I know I should.
The Church doesn't need to put up with me. It deserves better just as my peers and professors did. I'm glad it does anyway.
It took me 5 years and a lot of pain and struggling to learn a tough lesson, a lesson many learned well before me, a lesson many fellow dummies will learn this year as they try to skate through college and in years to come.
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