The Fine Art of Rejuvenation

Called Again, Right Here

Two years ago, I was grappling with uncertainty. I had served nearly 20 years in full-time ministry, the last seven as senior pastor of a thousand-member church. Whether it was just the seven-year itch or post-D.Min. depression (the degree work had left me exhausted), or whether I was intrigued by the possibility of a teaching post opening for me, I found myself wondering if it might be time to move on to a new, and perhaps more satisfying ministry.

At a conference I heard Harry Heinz, a pastor from Brunswick, New York, say that he’d shepherded the same people for 27 years, almost as intimidating to me as my immediate predecessor’s 31 years.

“How can you stay someplace that long?” I asked him.

Harry replied, “You know, I’ve experienced four distinct calls, all to the same place.” He explained that in addition to his initial call, at specific transition points in his life and ministry—the need to enlarge his ministry team, perceived pressure to begin a building program—he had sought, and received God’s confirmation that he was called to minister in the same place.

What an insight! I thought, That’s where I am. My unrest is a reaction to the transitions I’m passing through. I was dealing with three significant transition points. In addition to D.Min.-related fatigue, I had guided my church to reckon with the sexual misconduct of a former associate pastor. It was horrendous, and although I’d led the church through the experience, the aftermath had left me asking, “Is this what the Lord called me here to do? Is it time to let somebody else take over?” Finally, on top of that, I faced the prospect of marriage, a huge transition for a single woman in her forties.

In the midst of discovering the connection between transition points and call anxiety, I attended an Alban Institute conference on “Clergy Self-Assessment” that cured me from the myth of greener pastures. A second conference, entitled “Waltzing with the Gorilla: Leading the Corporate-sized Church,” gave me new ministry tools that, along with my new perspective on transitions, caused me to realize, “I’m not done. God still has things for me to do at this church.”

I accepted that as a minister grows, his or her call will need redefinition. Even though I am still the senior pastor of the same church, my call has changed. I’ve refocused much of my energy and attention away from the entire congregation and toward pastoring the ministry team. So in a sense I did get the smaller church I longed for. If I can foster a sense of community among the staff, together we will be far more effective in ministering to the larger church.

Finally, I had to learn again that there is one Lord of the church, and it isn’t me. Peace came when I reminded myself that God is God in every sense, and that he is capable of caring for Christ’s church. So I could wait, and listen, and relax.

If you live in the confidence that God cares about your life and your church, you can trust that all will be made clear.

Heidi Husted is pastor of Columbia Presbyterian Church in Vancouver, Washington

Room for a View

When I have become uncertain or confused about my ministry, or if I am bored, frustrated or stagnant, sometimes it is because I have confused my “job” with my calling. My particular job, whether as pastor or educator, is only the setting within which I can fulfill my calling and use my gifts as they have come from God. When I get caught up in the meetings, the finances, the politics, and the trivia of the job to the neglect of my particular ministry with people, I lose energy and passion. Usually I need one or more of three things to confirm and refresh my call to ministry.

1. I usually need sleep and mental rest. Tiredness can fog the mind and soul.

Sometimes I don’t realize how tired I really am; I just know that I lack clarity and a settled, peaceful spirit.

Several months after I took on a major new assignment, I was offered a three-day weekend at a resort. Upon my afternoon arrival, I made lists of all the recreational activities I wanted to fit in. Then I laid down on the bed and fell deeply asleep until late the next morning. I was exhausted but didn’t know it until I took the opportunity to rest. I returned to my work more centered and refreshed in purpose.

2. Sometimes I need a change of scenery. Ted Engstrom, a pioneering leader of World Vision, a ministry focused on desperate human needs, has a lifelong habit of taking three days a year of personal retreat in a garden setting away from office and home, the telephone and the urgent e-mails demanding immediate response. This time of prayer and Scripture study helps him sort out his priorities, review his patterns of time use, and make any necessary realignment to be on target in following God’s will. Now in his eighties, Ted has had a productive and significant ministry. I find him a good model.

3. When I am really struggling with my sense of identity and call, I rediscover how much I need my covenant group. For more than 25 years, I have been privileged to participate in a small covenant group of fellow pastors and leaders who share life together at deep levels of honesty and love.

Apart from my husband, these people are the ones who help me know and fulfill my calling in Christ. They know my strengths and weaknesses as well as my temptations and vulnerabilities. Their faith has helped sustain mine in times of doubt and discouragement.

Such a group seldom drops from heaven. It usually has to be sought, prayed for, and created by deliberate action.

It takes courage to invite others to share this deeper, more personal journey of faith. But such a group makes all the difference in refreshing my call.

Roberta Hestenes is minister at large for World Vision, focusing on Christian formation. She was formerly senior pastor at Solana Beach Presbyterian Church near San Diego.

Bread Bowl Renewal

There are days that jar me out of my sense of calling. I remember once a parishioner telephoned and ranted on about how I should be doing my job. It had to do with my failings as an event coordinator and promotions manager. I felt like a fool rather than a minister of Christ.

I was angry. How dare this person measure the work of a pastor in such trivial terms? I spent my afternoon in self-righteous rage.

At home that night, I was still fuming. This couldn’t continue. I had to get over my anger.

The next morning was Saturday and my two oldest girls were flipping through TV channels trying to find their favorite cartoon. They paused on a cooking show featuring a lesson on bread making.

I was inspired.

I led a march to the kitchen, grabbed our giant mixing bowl and the ingredients, and planted my helpers, ages 5 and 7, on the counter top. Sarah scooped out generous amounts of flour, while Lily measured salt and opened yeast packets. We mixed with our bare hands, and surrounded ourselves in a dusty cloud of flour.

After we’d made a ball of dough and allowed it to rise, my staff of baking elves and I gathered for our favorite part of the ritual, punching down the dough. A left jab for the hurtful things said to me, a right for letting it get to me, and a quick flurry for everything else that was fermenting inside.

The kids joined in, our six fists joyfully pounding the dough until we nearly fell over laughing.

A while later we placed two loaves into the oven. As they baked, a marvelous aroma filled the house. The smell was so good we pretended to slice pieces of it from the air.

When we took them out of the oven, they looked so good that my wife, Susan, decided it would be a good idea for the girls to deliver one loaf to a neighbor. As she packed the bread neatly in a gift basket and sent the girls on their way, it struck me that I wasn’t angry any more.

An activity, completely unrelated to my ministry, had changed my outlook and restored the joy of ministry.

Jim Coyl is associate minister at Glenview Community Church in Glenview, Illinois.