Ministry is hard.  Even if no one has ever put unreasonable expectations upon me, I have put them on myself.  To me, a pastor shouldn’t suffer from a mental illness, constantly question their call to ministry, use colorful language, act like a complete jackass, have a major crush on a someone they’re not married to, smoke cigarettes when they are stressed, have an unimpressive prayer life—basically, a pastor shouldn’t act like me.  I look at myself and see no way to lead others.  Many days, my congregation leads me.  And while I am okay with that to an extent, I’m not sure they are or even should be.
 
What am I to do?  I love the people that I serve.  I really want to be a better person, but it’s just so damn hard.  As Donald Miller points out, “Six billion people live in this world, and I can only muster thoughts for one.  Me… I wondered what it would be like not to live in a house of mirrors, everywhere I go being reminded of myself… I wanted to be over this, done with this.”  And I really do—I want to be a better person already.  You may be wondering if I have brought any of this to God.  The answer is yes.  And no.  I’ve brought some of it—you know, the stuff that I figure will require something easy on my part.  But other things, well, I’m not ready or willing to give those over yet.  I don’t want to hear God say that there isn’t an easy way out.  I don’t want to hear him say that I won’t be happy (although I’m not any way), and that the answer doesn’t involve what I want. 
 
I am so frustrated.  I am tired of feeling like the only spiritual person who doesn’t get it.  I am tired of the holier-than-thou religious culture that crushes those who can’t ‘get with the program’.  But maybe there is hope.  Donald Miller writes that “…when I think soberly about my faith, about the general precepts that indicate we are flawed, [I realize that] all of us are flawed, the corrupt politician and the pious Sunday School teacher.”  No, I am not taking comfort in realizing we are all flawed, but I am taking comfort in realizing that we are all struggling to be better—or at least, should be. 

You know, I try to do good, but often find that I am hurting someone else in the process.  For instance, Alan and I decided years ago that we would only shop at places that treat their employees fairly (decent wages and health benefits), activley do their part to care for the community/environment, and so on.  Therefore, we included Chik-fil-A in our list of places we’d happily go to.  You may be wondering why such an establishment would make our list–well, they offer scholarships to their employees, give money to several charities, and even run a program for kids in foster families.  But an email from an organization I’m involved with–Farm Sanctuary–helped me see who I was hurting everytime I ate at Chik-fil-A: chickens.  See, Chik-fil-A promotes eating chicken to save cows.  But really, they are making fun of the plight of cattle while simultaniously ignoring the plight of the chickens they raise and slaughter.

Tomorrow, anyone who dresses up as a cow and goes to Chik-fil-A will get free food.  But maybe we should consider the darker reality of this promotion–industrial farm animals are in a bad situation to say the least.  Perhaps not showing up at all will send a stronger message to Chik-fil-A and save cows and chickens at the same time.  -A

So I’ve finally joined the world of bloggers.  I didn’t think I’d actually become one of them–but it happened…

I have been reading Brian McLaren’s The Secret Message of Jesus.  I’m reading it as part of a larger group of folk at Fancy Gap Friends Fellowship.  It’s a worthy read–McLaren exposes Jesus for the radical liberal he really is.  In the book we see Jesus as a lover of the poor, women, children, the opressed in general, the environment, and peace.  Peace being a biggie right  now, of course.  And Jesus wasn’t promoting a kind of personal, non-political peace.  No–he was promoting a radical, toss-out-your-weapons-and-seek-God’s-way kind of peace.  Basically, a Jesus who, although he can be found in the Bible, is pretty much left out of most churches today.  As Jonny Carson used to say, weird, wild stuff.

I’m also reading from the fantastic book of short essays entitled Blue Like Jazz.  It’s an honest, yet funny look at life that invloves knowing God, but perhaps not knowing much else.  Pretty much a book that sums up my experiences…

Well, as I don’t want to outrun my leading, I’ll close for now.  -April