It's a funny thing - calling - a strange idea I think. I am called to follow Jesus, he calls me to be set aside for this strange minister role. I am called to be minister of a church in the south to lead in the way I hope I am hearing God call.
Ever since I began training (well before that, but the thinking got deeper as I went through ministerial formation) I have questioned what it means to be called and whether if you are called as a minister is it a life long thing. As Baptists we don't do the whole ordination brings you magic thing but there is something in ordination that sets you aside that says that this is not just a job, but your whole life. It's very difficult to minister unless you approach it in that way - to be a minister can never be simply a job, it takes over your whole life.
Every time I hear of a friend or colleague move away from ministry because of something that has happened in their life, or had to change the way they minister because of illness, or been basically dismissed from a church for a plethora of reasons but with nowhere to go, or the money running out in the place they were convinced God had called them I question the nature of calling. Someone I worked with quite closely disappeared never to be seen again. Someone else just couldn't carry on. Someone else realised that the type of ministry to which they were called to was not the type of ministry that matched up to the expectations of the church. Some ministers do things that aren't good which means they have to leave. Some just don't thrive. Some churches can be frankly quite horrible and some ministers and churches just don't get on with one another.
And it leads me to the question of uncalledness..... can you be uncalled? As you sit and pick up the pieces of the change of circumstance in life, as you question your very identity in God..... is there an element of being called back, to return, to let go, to be set free perhaps in there?
Today I preached on the anointing of David from 1 Samuel 16 and as I prepared I looked back on the circumstances that brought him to that point. The Israelites wanted a King and God basically said 'go on then' and in 1 Samuel 9:17 Saul is introduced to Samuel with the words from God "Here is the man of whom I spoke to you. He it is who shall rule over my people". This was a God appointment. Saul wasn't a big fan at first but he gave in in the end because it came from God (he even hid under all the baggage to avoid being made King - there's probably a blog in that) and he tried his best for 42 years to be King. Saul gets a bit of a bad press, but we've got to remember he wasn't all bad - and God put him there.
But he did get it wrong. He lost his way. The last straw was when he lied to Samuel about the task God had set before him - he saved his friend King Agag instead of killing him and he lied when he took the best things from the destruction of the Amalekites for himself (yes the Old Testament is quite brutal). It wasn't until he was found out that he repented.... but it was too late - because of his lies and deceit his reign as King would soon be over and God would appoint a new King in his place.
He was uncalled, called away, let go. While his calling came from God, his behaviour and choice did not, which meant that he couldn't carry on with what he was doing. His reign was for a season.
And Samuel grieved for him. We grieve when we lose a leader we love. We grieve when we realise the way in which we are being called has changed. We grieve..... but then God calls us on.
Sometimes a calling is for a season, and the way becomes clear for a move onward (that's why I moved south - where I was called so strongly it was overwhelming and is the reason I am sticking around even when its tough) - it doesn't mean it's easy but God calls.
Sometimes a calling ends abruptly, and whether that's because of the behaviour of the individual or of those to which they were called, then grieving and healing needs to be done.
Sometimes a calling ends because of circumstance - now this is the hardest for me to understand. What if a strong call is stopped in its tracks by a lack of resources, or what if someone gets ill, or what if?
I don't know, and I don't know if I have all the answers, but I do know if a calling is interrupted, grieving is often important, and we must be given space to do so (on leaving the Bohemian Enclave neither me or the church were given the chance to work through that, and that's something that was beyond my control that I regret very much)..... but then when that grieving period is over we need to listen for God's voice again, and we take that tentative step forward, we broaden our expectations perhaps, we learn to forgive, we make space to heal, but at some point we need to look up and see, because what is next - God knows - and it could be something far better.
"In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps" - Proverbs 16:9
I was sat in the corner of an empty coffee shop this morning drinking a large black Americano (it's Monday after all) pleased I'd managed to get my favourite seat again - the perfect seat where I had clear view of the door so I could keep an eye on who was coming in, but had my back to the wall so nobody could surprise me. The cushions were perfect and the temperature was right.
The coffee shop began to fill up. First was a someone who clearly was waiting for a business meeting beside me - his meeting companion turned up, introduced himself and the next time I looked they had disappeared. A woman with a toddler arrived and they sat a couple of tables away, ready for an early lunch. A toddler from our toddler group arrived, not accompanied by his Mum (who I know) but by three strangers who I assume were his Dad and Grandparents who were picking up takeaway lattes.
And then it happened.
The door opened - a woman with a buggy and small baby. She sat one table away, shifted the tables and manoeuvred her buggy into place.
The door opened again and another woman with a buggy waved hello and shifted the table enough to fit in a high chair - she looked at me now a little pinned in and apologised (a little) - I said 'someone is joining me' (worried they wouldn't get in). She shrugged and put the baby in the high chair.
The door opened again and another woman (without a buggy) sat down at the table, handing her baby to another as she went to get a high chair for hers.... by this point the possibility of me having space for my companion was almost nil unless we wanted to sit knee to knee with our heads in the high chairs and (as I don't like to get too close to people and meeting in this way for a serious conversation would not have been good) I considered moving....
The women, as if in sync, then picked up their babies and stood up in a dance that only a group of mums can do and rocked.
I took that opportunity to slide across the bench and frown as my perfect seat was exchanged for the seat next to the sauces and the menus, ready for interruption from the next person who needed a condiment.
It reminded me of an episode from Gilmore Girls (not that I am an addict, honestly) where Luke the diner owner is rather grumpier than normal and he points out that the reason why is the group of parents and babies who set up camp in his diner every weekend, bringing tables together and changing the status quo.
I realised I was turning into Luke... and I tried not to.
I recently had a conversation with a woman somewhat older than me about children in church. She said that they used to have a few children, but that when one of them got to 18 months, he began to get a bit boisterous and actually was too much of a distraction to the congregation and preacher and secretly she was glad he wasn't there any more. But she'd like more children in church.
As I sat and was entertained by one of the babies in the high chair who cheered me up as I was waiting for a meeting that didn't happen because it had been planned for a different day, I reflected on this, and my own response to the entry of the three women to the coffee shop. I loved that those children were there. I loved that they made me smile.... but I didn't like being knocked out of place....
Perhaps the women should have thought of me a little more, but actually, it didn't matter, I still had a place to sit... I could still see the door... I still had a wall at my back so no-one could creep up on me... and actually no-one wanted condiments while I was sat drinking the last dregs of my coffee. I told myself off, and as I did so I reflected on what I could have said to the woman who was secretly glad that boisterous toddler wasn't there anymore.
If we want to be welcoming and not just friendly to people of all ages, but particularly young children, we need to accept them as they are. Those women with babies - they just wanted some space, and yes, maybe they could have asked, but actually, it wasn't really a problem to frown at. The child who likes to run, let them run... as a preacher I'm happy that children feel free to run and play at the front (and I think it's good for the church to embrace that kind of life!). When the time is right, then part of my role as worship leader is to help them to learn how to and enable them in worship, so I sit down with them on the step and speak to them at their level as I share with them and the rest of the congregation... or I pick them up and they help me to lead the whole congregation as their smile tells us all something of the Kingdom of God... or I sit them on one of the 'special' communion chairs because the joy it brings to their faces brings joy to the rest of us...
I do this because Jesus said 'let the children come to me, do not stop them - the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these...'.
My experience in the coffee shop was a bit of a warning to me that our resistance to a change in the status quo can be so deeply ingrained that we do not realise why we are acting in the way we are before it becomes too big to manage.... and that my challenge to that woman in the church should have been a challenge that I also give to myself...
As church we need to be constantly asking whether our frowns and secret celebrations are what place hostile barriers to prevent us welcoming like Jesus.... and we need to ask whether a slight slide down the bench to a place that is not perfect for our own needs might be what's best for the bigger picture and it might be just where God is calling us to slide...... in fact, if we are to be welcoming and not just friendly it probably is....
Don't be like Luke.... or actually like me in Monday morning perfect seat coffee shop mode.. there is a better way to be....
Go on.... slide....
Don't pick your scab.
Some of the best advice that I was given when growing up. If you pick your scab it won't heal very well, it will bleed again, it will get infected. I once was running home from a friends house wearing my ballet shoes (I never did ballet - I've never been dainty enough or had the coordination - but I had ballet shoes) and I fell over. I seem to remember I was carrying roller skates. Why I was wearing ballet shoes with roller skates anyway I have no idea and am surprised I didn't fall over earlier. Anyway, I fell over and my knee did that thing - it bled everywhere. I got an amazing scab.
A little while later (days? weeks?) I was at a Girls Brigade party and the scab that I had evidently been picking was knocked off in a game. My knee started to bleed again and as a result I have now on my right knee a white mark where it never had chance to heal properly.
Don't pick your scab.
As we journey through life we pick up wounds - some of them heal completely, some of them scab over. The trouble is that the ones that simply scab over get picked at at random intervals and they begin to bleed again. They stop us in our tracks as we realise that once again we need to clean up the mess and put a plaster on and wait for them to scab over again trying to get to the point where we stop picking so they heal completely - so that the scar is all that remains.
Don't pick your scab.
I've noticed in being part of a church community that people have their favourite scabs to pick at - it starts with the choice of biscuit, the choice of hymns, the way things are done, the steps we are taking forward, our particular view of theology, our deep held beliefs that we are reluctant to challenge, our theological bugbear...... some of these things needed to be removed completely, some simply healed over, some actually left to flourish - but the problem we have is that we keep picking at them because it feels familiar and quite nice to pick a scab and make it bleed again so we don't have to look forward to the next hill we need to run up (or down) to get to the next place that God is taking us.
Don't pick your scab.
I've been involved a lot in discussions about the future lately - as part of the wider Baptist family, as a Methodist circuit, as a college, as a church and as just me and one thing that has struck me is that however big the decisions that we are making we all have those scabs that at the right moment we pick at, make bleed and stop us in our tracks.
I've decided in the last few months that I'm going to stop picking at mine. I'm also going to try and stop other people trying to pick at mine too (although that is a little bit harder). If less people picked at their own and others scabs the journey would become so much less messy (or different kind of messy) and we might actually get somewhere.
Don't pick your scab. Just stop it..... stop.... it.....
"I’m not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don’t get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I’ve got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I’m off and running, and I’m not turning back." Philippians 3:12-14 (MSG)
