ministry

Although I work as the assistant to the pastor of my church, I am not considered a pastoral assistant because I am “not involved in ministry”; apparently the term pastoral assistant implies that I am being groomed to lead a congregation. But I believe that I am involved in ministry…it’s just more behind-the-scenes stuff. You know…office stuff, design work, lots and lots of preparation for Sunday mornings.

I’m the sender of communiqués.

And the only congregations that I’ve addressed in the past two years aren’t made up of shiny young professionals and churchy folks with deep pockets. It’s been homeless and transient ladies and gents with body odor, no jobs, growling bellies…the alcoholic debate team.

I desire to step up into more traditional ministerial roles. Not sure that I’ll get to do that where I’m at. I actually considered joining the Anglican Church and pursuing holy orders. My better half sorta squashed that idea. Maybe it’s me that’s holding me back. That’s why I recently ditched the big plugs I’ve worn in my ears for so long. (My stretched earlobes without the plugs look like cat butts, by the way.) I’m currently in the process of applying to the CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) program through UVA. More on that later, but I feel pushed/called/directed to this…thing…This thing that I never really saw myself doing.

So that’s where I’m at right now… a married aspiring lay monastic with ministerial aspirations and ears that look like the butts of cats.

commitment

It’s been so long since I wrote here. But so much is going on now, that it seems like time to get back to it. 21 days from today, I will be immersed in silence and liturgy and reflection and contemplation at the Abbey of Gethsemani in Trappist, Kentucky. 23 days from today I will be making my formal commitment as a Lay Cistercian of Gethsemani Abbey. I’ll be placing a promise on an altar before the gathered community of the LCG, the cloistered monks, and Abbot Elias Dietz. Then I’ll return home, dedicated to doing the best I can to honor that promise of service, stability, conversatio morum, prayer, and obedience. I’ve been in formation for 2 years now. It’s been a great time of learning from my mentors, my co-aspirants, the monks, the desert fathers, the early church fathers, excellent authors, Godly friends, random strangers, and of course my Creator.

stability

Stability is something that's been on my mind a lot lately. It's been popping up all over the place...in my reading, conversation, and contemplation. Of course, stability is a main tenet of Benedict's Rule of Life. Until fairly recently, I would not have described myself as "stable". In fact, I'm realizing that for most of my adult life, I've been a gyrovague. Benedict'se Rule refers to a gyrovague in this way - "...there are the monks called gyrovagues, who spend their entire lives drifting from region to region, staying as guests for three or four days in different monasteries. Always on the move, they never settle down, and are slaves to their own wills and gross appetites."
I've always felt like there was greener grass to be had...better homes...cooler cars...bigger...better...MORE! I was convinced that if I could just get to "that place" or "that situation", I'd feel right. Or at peace. Or happy.
I recently ran across a post I had contributed to an online relocation forum almost exactly a year ago. I wrote about how I didn't want to keep up with the Jones' anymore. I didn't want satisfaction in life to equal me waking up each day and walking into the living room to admire a big flat-screen tv. I wrote about how I wanted to wake up each day and look out over snow-capped peaks somewhere that was still wild. Still free. I wrote that I didn't want to have any more regrets.
I never did make that big move to that magical place where life would always be easy and where there was never a chance of a bad day. But it wasn't the geographic location that needed to change...it was me. And now, every day as I walk outside, I can see the mountains surrounding the place where I live. I get to watch their personalities change throughout the seasons. For the first time in my life, I feel like I'm not trying to steer a ship with a broken rudder. I feel like I have been put here.
I'm also beginning to understand how stability takes it's cues from humility which cultivates compassion which...
Well, I hope you get the picture. Peace.

lent & the passion

Here we are in the time of Lent. To me, I think this should be a time of reflection and quiet and thanksgiving and awe. I am part way through re-watching the movie, The Passion of the Christ. When the movie came out in 2004, my Mom was nearing the end of her life and living with one of my sisters in Florida. Mom was not a movie-goer at all. Not even really a movie-watcher. My sister and brother-in-law took her to see this in the theater, though. Since my Dad's passing in 2001, my Mom's health had steadily gone downhill. I don't think that the doctors ever really found anything particularly "wrong" with her, medically. I think that she was literally dying of a combination of a broken heart and her body just being so tired. She was dying of old age and sadness over the loss of her beloved best friend. I think she had also suffered some small strokes, which left her unable to communicate clearly. Her words were very slurred and she was often out of breath when trying to speak. I imagine that must have been really tough for a previously fairly outspoken lady and an English teacher. When the movie was over, after she had witnessed the scenes of extreme pain and finally death, my Mom commented to my sister and brother-in-law that "He really loved us...". If she was never able to communicate anything but that sentiment, that was enough. It was what she and my Dad tought us our whole lives. They also lived what they taught.
I'm looking forward to June, when I will be making my first retreat, with the Lay Cistercians, to the Abbey of Gethsemani in Kentucky. I had thought of trying to get some time with the Abbot or one of the monks...hopefully to pose a question that's been on my mind a little. My question was "how could the suffering and death of one man erase the sins and wrongs of everyone who ever lived?" As I watched a scene in the movie of Jesus' mother Mary watching Jesus bear the horrific lashings at the hands of the Roman soldiers, I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to watch your child go through that right in front of you. I imagined how I would feel if I were to have to watch my son take that sort of punishment. I imagined what it would be like to stand helplessly by as a soldier asked my daughter to deny her God in order to live...or to claim Him and lose her life.
I'm thinking, now, that maybe I don't need that question answered. I think that even one of those lashes was likely more brutal than any sort of self-punishment one could do to try to alleviate personal guilt over sin or wrongdoing.
He really did love us.

expanded package

So, I was reading a friend's latest blog post, and it sorta inspired me to try to start getting more regular with my posting here.
These past two weeks have been rough ones. I almost don't want to put that "in print" here, because somehow doing that seems to make the situation that much more permanent. Like having it floating around in cyberspace will somehow allow it to remain raw...allow it to not be forgotten. Well, I guess it's out there now!
There are changes happening because of the last weeks' trials. Soon, I imagine we will be getting a bill for something close to six digits. We lost basically two weeks worth of pay as well. So we are tightening the collective belt. One of those tightening methods...I just called to have our expanded cable package downgraded to basic. I guess maybe the last two weeks of hardcore reality has allowed me to release my hold on the "reality" of others...reality that we pay dearly to have piped into our homes for our entertainment. Reality that is cut up and polished up for ratings sake.
I've got a wife and kids and dogs to love on. I've got books to finish and books to start. I have thinking and praying to do. I have concepts to form for the betterment of others. I have folks to cook for and to feed...folks who don't have regular meals, much less expanded cable.

here

These last few months have been ones of transition. Maybe that's why I haven't written much here in that time. I've watched the heat of summer fade to a seemingly short autumn and then roll into this as-yet snowless winter. I'm falling into the rhythms of my work. I was worried that I might become disillusioned by seeing the machine at work...by being "backstage at the show" and seeing the errors and beaurocracy and humanity. But it has been almost the opposite. Real people have real emotions and real shortcomings and, well, reality isn't always a "reality show" where beautiful people live perfectly and cutely flawed lives for the entertainment of others. It's funny, this chain of events that's led to me sitting here typing right now. A sizeable move, making friends, finding community, feeling life out here, living life out here. Here, I feel like I've made one of the best friends of my life...a true brother. Here, I feel like I'm finally becoming a husband and dad. Here I feel like I truly, finally, have a heart...I can really feel it beating now. Here also, I've seen people get real with me. Here, I've been confronted, chastised, humbled, asked to apologize...and then ignored. Here I gave a coat to Robert because he needed warmth. Here I've discovered I love to serve folks who deserve to be served with love. Here I've discerned, been sobered, and have woken to God's hand in artistry on the early morning skies over the mountains.

jazz

I picked up some wind chimes for the front porch. One set is a six-tube, double striker chime. The other is a set of temple bells. I sit out front and read or think, and if there's a breeze, I have music. It struck me that the music of the chimes sounds like some crazy free-jazz...random and intricate and beautiful. Today, sitting outside, it dawned on me that the wind that drives the chimes is not random. God's hand or breath or thought drives the wind that drives the chimes...creates the music. Then I thought about how God's hand or breath or thought that drives the wind also drives the clouds in their ever-changing and ultimately creative artistry. The wind turns the leaves that catch the sun and casts the shadows in just the right way. It goes on and on like that. Nothing is random. Everything is engineered perfectly.