My just so normal life

"You cannot withdraw..."

Vincent said, “You are the extreme left of the Union line. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” Chamberlain said.

“The line runs from here all the way back to Gettysburg. But it stops here. You know what that means.”

“Of course.”

“You cannot withdraw. Under any conditions. If you go, the line is flanked. If you go, they’ll go right up the hilltop and take us in the rear. You must defend this place to the last.”

From The Killer Angels by Michael Shaara

Most little boys dream of being a hero – to nab the game-winning TD, to hit the long ball over the big wall, to rescue a princess or defeat the black robed villain in a fantastic display of swordsmanship. But then we grow up to lead what often feels such pedestrian, ordinary lives. Instead of carrying a light saber on our utility belt we probably carry a tape measure. Instead of pow-wowing together with fellow warriors to plan our next daring raid into enemy territory, we’re more than likely gathered at a board meeting discussing next quarter’s marketing strategy. Once high school is over, the likelihood that we play ball – any kind of ball – at the next level is slim or none unless it’s a pick-up game out on the quad. And eventually we find our seats at some stadium to see some larger-than-life guy throw a football like we always dreamed of throwing and we add our loud adulation to the thousands of others doing the same. It seems it is the way of things.

Alas, I was not schooled by him

Pastors are no different. We got into this not because the money was good and we aspired – as our constituents good-naturely like to tease us – to work one day a week (and a half day at that) but because we wanted to do great things for God. Our hearts and our imaginations were fired by stories like Gideon and his 300 or David and Goliath, Peter and John before the Sanhedrin not to mention the plethora of accounts of faithfulness under pressure recorded in Foxe’s Book of Martyrs. I remember the excitement I felt as a young man going off to Bible college to be trained in the ways of ministry and service by what I hoped were the Christian equivalent of Jedi Masters that I might take my part in the Great Crusade to liberate men and women from their enslavement to the Lord of Darkness. Laugh if you want to but those sentiments get pretty close to the mark of the way I felt that fall of 1982.

His story is amazing

I graduated in 1986, got married, went back to school to get my B.A. completing those requirements in 1988. After college I attempted to plant a church in southern Wisconsin from 1988-1990 while at the same time helping a friend plant his in another community. And then in 1991 I accepted the call to pastor what was then Chetek Full Gospel Tabernacle (now Refuge) and have been here ever since. In 20 years, I have preached over 700 sermons to the Sunday morning crew that gathers here, given at least that many Wednesday night teachings, spoke at the nursing home, the county jail, and community gatherings many times over and led many Bible studies with individuals or small groups. We’ve made some significant improvements to our facility during that time – gone are the pews and tiled floor sanctuary and in their stead are comfortable chairs and wall-to-wall carpet (for example). I chaired the committee that helped bring $10 million worth of improvements to our schools. I helped raise lots of money for playground equipment at our elementary school or helping young people go on mission endeavors and done the kinds of things required of pastors – praying for the sick, making hospital calls, dedicating new babies, baptizing believers, leading prayer gatherings, facilitating board meetings, officiating at weddings and funerals and all the other functions that go on at local churches. It all feels so very…normal. These are good things to do and to be done and I am honored to be able to do them but I would not call them noteworthy or heroic.

What Col. Chamberlain and his 300 Maine boys did at Little Round Top on that hot, humid day of July 2, 1863 – now that was heroic. Out of bullets and retreat not being an option he ordered a bayonet charge. The 15^th Alabama Division that they had been fighting all afternoon never saw it coming and, as their commander later reported, “we ran like a herd of cattle.” The 20^th Maine saved the day – and some historians contend, the war. But running down hill with nothing but a saber against a weary but determined foe – now that’s heroic. It’s a far cry from me attempting to rope down a message early Sunday morning in my office or sitting in one of the visitation rooms at the Justice Center waiting to see an inmate.

Now here is a run to remember

I will turn 50 in a few months and admittedly in the last year I’ve had moments of reflecting on the nature of what I’ve been doing the last 20 years and feeling like the sum of it doesn’t amount to much. I love what I do and by God’s grace I feel like I have done some good work during the past two decades. I have a wife who loves me and four great kids who serve in the fellowship I pastor. We have a beautiful home, vehicles that run (and that are paid for) and I lead a life that I had hoped to lead when I was a student in Bible college. But still for all that I’ve done it doesn’t seem to add up to much in the scheme of things.

As a family, we have been reading Dancer Off Her Feet by Julie Sheldon of late. It’s the testimony of a once professional ballet dancer in the UK who developed a muscular dystrophy called Dystonia and later was healed of her affliction. This is what she says about her struggle:

If illness is a battle, then each division of the army is vital to the success of the whole operation, and indeed, every single soldier has his unique role to play. Individual recognition or importance doesn’t come into it; the purpose of all the effort is simply to win the war. Sometimes certain people seem to play a more spectacular role, but in fact, their contribution is only possible because of the steady, unselfish preparation or back-up of others.

Somehow her words speak to my discouragement. After all, Chamberlain wasn't the only Union soldier running and screaming like a banshee down that hill – there were at least 120 last men standing (plus the Company B boys who suddenly emerged out of the fog to add trouble to the skedaddling Confederates). At nearly 50 years of age, I’m not likely to be running down any hill with sword in hand probably ever. I’m not going to be awarded the Medal of Honor – certainly not for the simple acts of service that I do. I pastor a small church in a small town in one of the poorest counties of our state. Apart from the folks around here, I’m not likely to be known outside of this small corner of the world. Twenty-five years out of Bible college I find that I am not a Jedi master or Jedi-anything. I’m just a guy – a foot soldier in the Great Campaign to extend God’s Kingdom doing what seems to be my part to play in this truly epic struggle.

I still dream – I still pray to see more lost people in Chetek and Barron County come to the saving knowledge of Jesus, I still hope for the day when more of our local fellowships are willing to do more together, I still aspire to see more young kids grow up to be kingdom players no matter their vocation or calling, I still think of the day when a local Somali fellowship made of Somali disciples exists in Barron, I still look to a day when “barren”-county is overwhelmingly fruitful. I still dream. It’s just that sometimes my life looks fairly…unimpressive. Not a failure but not stellar, either. Just normal. There are those in the history of the Church on whom great deeds have been thrust upon them to do – Peter, Paul, Athanatius of Alexandria, Martin Luther, Jonathan Edwards, John Wesley and so forth. Hall of Famers everyone. I am reminded that Jesus exhorted his first core of leaders that true greatness in the kingdom is found in those who serve and do not seek the spotlight. Musing on that I think of the words attributed to Mother Teresa – We can do no great things; only small things with great love. May God find me faithful to be doing that: minding my post, reading and teaching the Scriptures, praying for the welfare of His Church in our community and the countless other normal things that pastors do in the course of a given week. It won't get me mentioned in Sports Illustrated or even Leadership but it is work that has to be done and it is mine to do.