One of the most interesting parts of looking back on the last decade is how God used each step along the way to prepare me for the next step. The last two transitions have been particularly humorous due to their paradoxical nature.
Suburban ministry preparing me for urban ministry.
Urban ministry preparing me for a move back to rural America.
When I was at the big suburban church I never imagined this would be my career trajectory. I thought I was going to go on to be a youth pastor at a big affluent suburban church like the one I was at and the one spent my high school years in. People around me were grooming me for a position like that. They were advocating for me to get positions like that.
Well that ship has sailed, and I really don’t think there is any going back. As a family we have come to a place where we reject some of the statements that living in suburbia make, so it’s pretty much urban or rural for us from here on out. Or as the New Monastics call it, the places abandoned by the Empire.
The place we are at now feels special, but it certainly feels removed from the Empire. We’re 30 minute drive from a McDonald’s or a Wal Mart, for crying out loud. There’s “out there”, and then 15 miles past that is where we live.
To be good with something like this I had to be ok with anonymity. For the longest time, I wanted to be known. Or rather, I wanted to have name recognition. I wanted people to know the church I worked at. To have either of those things be big enough that people could “identify” me two sentences into a conversation. I wanted to be viewed as kinda a big deal. In a way, I wanted to be anonymously famous. Defined by my title, my name known by many, but with very few actually in my inner circle. A leader in the cult of personality, so to speak.
The urban core cured me of my desire to be known. The more I got immersed in my job, the more I faded into the background. Less speaking, mostly. Ironic, in that my story was becoming a lot more interesting. But as I stopped speaking I had more opportunities to listen. The listening was good. The listening taught me a lot about myself and a lot about God. Sometimes the key to learning is shutting up. And sometimes the key to figuring out you aren’t really a big deal is to fight the fight alongside of and for the benefit of the voiceless.
It was good for me. If I still wanted to be known on a large scale, I never would have ended up where I am now. And the bugger of the deal is that where I am now is a place where I will be known. Not on a large scale, by any means*. But certainly with the depth that comes with living life in a small community where anonymity isn’t as much of an option.
*I am a bit famous in our new town, but only because my wife is the bomb dizzle. A lot of people who I’ve never met do know that I’m the new Doctor’s husband. Let’s just go ahead and add “Arm Candy” to my list of titles. Maybe I’ll just quit my job and start a new reality TV show. “The Real House Husband of Rice County”. Or maybe not.
Renew and Restore
