And then *THIS* Happened

Yesterday began with me having to explain how it works for me to feel “unencumbered” with my job/role as pastor, because you can’t count on the predictability of a 9-5 workday and usual/ordinary tasks.  You just can’t account for what’s bound to come up except that something always does. 

Then there was the knock on the door to share the glad news that the heavy rain overnight had resulted in large amounts of water seeping into our church’s social hall.  Our Property Team chairperson, whom I may have been able to call to pawn off the task of cleaning up, was out of town.  In case you wondering, there wasn't a class in seminary that dealt with any of the maintenance issues or problems most likely to be encountered in congregational leadership.  I left seminary all certified for pastoral ministry; there was no story entitled, “the miracle of shop-vac,” or “boiler-ology” to fall back on.   

So after taking a complaint from a staff-person about wires sticking out of the wall in one of our closets, I spent a couple of hours sucking up water with the shop-vac (yet unaware that the filter was to be used in “dry-vac” operations and only impeded wet-vac success).  Then, I read a Facebook post from a colleague who spent his morning replacing lighting fixtures in the secretary’s office (better him than me since I know nothing about electricity and felt no harm standing in a puddle of water with an electric vacuum sucking water)!  (Note to Session:  Don’t ever leave me alone with power tools!)  You just can’t account for what’s bound to come up except that something always does! 

While it’s true that being a pastor is seldom boring, somehow I think it would have been helpful if someone had shared along the way that I might one day discover that one of the supposedly helpful steps in correctly exegeting the Pauline epistles was in fact going to be the step that included the actual plumbing and plunging of toilets!  Or, how to operate a shop-vac when your building floods.  I understand these things are second nature to some people; but it’s the same people who like to Monday Morning Quarterback the decisions that got made when they were mysteriously not around!  You just can’t account for what’s bound to come up except that something always does! 

I’m always glad to help.  But when certain things happen I definitely feel like I’m not the best-trained person for the job!  Sometimes though, you've just got to own the reality that in any given moment, you may in fact be the PERFECT person for the job! 

I've been lamenting lately that some of the people helping to lead my denomination aren't the best-trained persons for the job, either.  I've voiced my opinion both publicly and privately that recent decisions have been bungled, that the “optics” haven’t been good, and that I’m disappointed and brokenhearted that responses to questions and concerns haven’t been straight-forward and transparent.  Despite knowing well that we just can’t account for what’s bound to come up, except that something always does; I've become that loud-mouthed critic who wasn't in the room when needed action had to be taken.  I've become the proverbial congregant perpetually unhappy about the new worship order, and found myself wondering and wondering out loud that a change in personnel at the top would yield a more fruitful season. 

I do trust—that my colleagues in ministry serving in and with our denominational structure believe our ministry as Presbyterians is relevant, important, and work hard to make it effective; I do know—they are facing challenges, concerns, and “clean-up” that no one anticipated.  Like me, they no doubt feel it’s been “left to them,” while others who caused the concerns, anxieties, and problems have either moved on or been moved on.  You just can’t account for what’s bound to come up except that something always does! 

We’re still saying it, though—that the old days of denominational structures being at the center of church identity are clearly over.  Our congregation participated in a neighborhood home tour this past Sunday where we received visitors and guests and got to show off parts of our building.  “Presbyterian” is in our name that was printed in the home-tour guides—but lots of people still had to ask, “What kind of church is this?”  And while we think it “goes without saying” that everyone is welcome in our building, more than one person noted how they finally had a chance to get a look inside our building, suggesting that they DIDN'T feel welcome on other occasions. 

Just when did *THAT* happen? 

You just can’t account for what’s bound to come up except that something always does! 

I feel this way because I’m a congregational leader on the front lines where substantial change—not in our favor—has already happened.  I feel this way because I’m certain that we can do better.  I feel that way because sometimes, just like the social hall being baptized after a heavy rain, I’m the one stuck with the consequences just when I believe there are more important and pressing matters to be accomplished! 

And then I remember.  Our true task isn't always what it seems it should be.  We’re called to be witnesses to the love and justice of Jesus Christ.  To find and identify, to be and become, to point to and yet be a part of God’s love, reaching into the world in Jesus Christ. 

Some days we just have to own that, to own the tasks that have been given to us, to do our best, and let the chips fall where they may.  You just can’t account for what’s bound to come up except that something always does! 

What we count on—is the resurrected Christ; who grants not just new life when we die, but who gives us so many opportunities in which to serve, serve others, and witness to his love.  You just can’t account for what’s bound to come up except that *THIS* always does! 

© Rev. David Stipp-Bethune; Teaching Elder and Pastor, The Presbyterian Church of Llanerch, Havertown, Pennsylvania