Today is one of those days when I have mixed emotions. Let me explain.
I’m sad because all my clergy friends are on their way home from The Gathering, a yearly convocation of pastors in our conference of the United Methodist Church. I haven’t been able to attend The Gathering for the last eight years, and it’ll be 2021 before I am able to attend. Bummer! The reason behind all this is long and complicated, so I’ll simplify it: you can only be out of the office so much if you are going to be a counselor that is effective, and so I allocate my days off to things like family vacation, family emergencies, and the things I do as a Methodist clergywoman that require me to be away from my counseling office. There are only so many days off that I can take, and when it comes to attending The Gathering, I just don’t have enough days off to make it happen. Again, bummer!
I suppose I can’t really complain. It’s not like I never get to see my clergy friends. All the clergy in our conference gather twice a year: once in February at The Gathering and once in June at Annual Conference. And that’s where the happiness comes in!
You see, this week was a rough week: lots of tasks, lots of clients, too many crisis situations, etc. I’ve written about this in past blog entries—weeks like this can make me feel squished. I start feeling like I am drowning in a sea of endless tasks and endless human need, feeling pushed under the surface by the sheer number of people who want to lean on me and believe that I can somehow give them what they want, what they think they need.
This, of course, is why I let my mind wander off to The Gathering, where a good friend of mine was giving her testimony about her call into ministry…and that’s when the happiness started. I started thinking about her, and praying for her…and then I started thinking about Annual Conference.
Annual Conference is not some playground for pastors; we actually get quite a lot of work done, and I often find myself a bit stressed out during the conference because I have things I am supposed to get done, official roles I have to play, or presentations I have to make. But no matter what, Annual Conference makes me happy, because in the end, I get to hang with my peeps. I get to spend five days with all my clergy friends. If I were being honest, I would mention that I’m not friends with all the clergy in this conference, but it doesn’t really matter because I’m just glad to be with my clergy colleagues. When we get together, it is almost always a truly joyous occasion. We laugh with one another, we pray with one another, and in general we love on one another as much as possible.
Why? Because we are The Society of People Who Drown.
There isn’t a pastor or clergyperson on the face of the earth who doesn’t understand what I mean. It doesn’t matter what kind of ministry you do—youth ministry, general church ministry, chaplaincy, counseling, urban ministry, ministry with the poor—if you are in ministry, some days you drown. The human need is so great! People come to pastors because they are seeking something, or more accurately, they are “wanting”: wanting answers; wanting connection to something bigger than themselves; wanting to feel God more deeply; wanting to hear God’s voice more clearly; wanting an instant family; wanting to know if what they are doing is right or wrong; wanting to know if they should give up or keep trying; wanting financial help; wanting forgiveness; wanting validation; wanting something that will end their misery and pain, wanting…wanting…SOMETHING. Add that to all the other demands that go with managing a church (or an urban mission or a vital missions program or a counseling practice, etc.) and suddenly you find yourself drowning in a sea of tasks and endless human need, pushed under the surface by the sheer number of people who are leaning on you and hoping that you can help them get what they want, what they truly need.
Together, with my clergy colleagues, we are The Society of People Who Drown, and we are okay with that.
Because we have a Savior, and He has a boat.
And we know exactly whose hand plunges into the water to pull us to the surface. Even when that hand looks exactly like the hand of one of my colleagues and comes attached to their voice, I know who is reaching into the water after me. And when I plunge my hand into the flood to grab one of my colleagues who is starting to go under, they know exactly who is guiding my hand; they know exactly who is pulling them out of the sea.
We have a Savior, and He has a boat.
Before we accepted our call to ministry all of us found ourselves standing on the beach, looking out across the water at Jesus in the boat. There He was, floating in a sea of human need, calling to us as we stood on the shore, and one by one we all said “That’s it! I love you, and I’m coming in!” and then we waded into the water. It seemed like the craziest thing to do, and yet none of us seemed to be able to choose anything else.
So here we are, treading water in a sea of human need, and occasionally drowning. And we are okay with that.
We have a Savior, and He has a boat.
There is a reason why my clergy colleagues and I love each other so intensely; why we enjoy our time together so much. There is a reason why we seek each other out to share both tears and laughter and to lift each other’s spirits.
It’s because each and every one of us is crazy. Only crazy people wade into the water when all the evidence makes it look like you’ll drown! But here we are, treading water in a sea of human need and occasionally drowning…and while it’s very difficult to do, we wouldn’t do anything else. And we wouldn’t do it with anyone else. These are my colleagues and like me, they are all crazy…crazy for the Man in the boat who is going to save us all…crazy for the One who reaches his arm into the flood over and over to pull us up and let us know that it’s okay…we aren’t going to drown, not really, because He has His eye on us, and He isn’t going to let anything take us under for good.
That is as true for me and my clergy colleagues as it is for everyone else. Jesus doesn’t just pull a few of us to the surface. He reaches in for each and every person, everywhere, all the time.
It isn’t just me and my clergy colleagues. It’s everyone.
We have a Savior, and He has a boat!