Lots and lots of time

“Our adversary the devil majors in three things: noise, hurry, and crowds. If he can keep us involved in muchness and manyness he will rest satisfied.”

                                       Richard Foster in Celebration of Discipline

Everyone has pet peeves. People who chew their food with their mouth open, teen agers somehow symbiotically connected to their I-Phone and not, as you would expect a minister to despise, cell phones going off in church but people who actually feel the need to answer their phone while at church – during worship, during a wedding (and worst!) during a funeral. But right up there with these is the standard reply that Christians and non-Christians alike give to the query, “How ya been?” More often than not I bet you’ve heard – or found yourself saying - “Oh, I’ve been busy.” Of all my personal peeves, this is the peeviest.

These days I wake up most mornings with absolutely nothing to do. I have no meetings to attend, no people to meet with, no messages to produce. I follow my whimsy. I lay in my bed and think, “What should I do today?” and then I think of something and say to myself, “That’s what I’m gonna do.” So on Monday, I worked in my garden and began to power wash the house because that’s what I wanted to do. On Tuesday, however, I read or scanned pictures into my hard drive and uploaded pictures to my Facebook account because that’s what I wanted to do. On Wednesday, I went hiking on the Ice Age Trail because that’s what I wanted to do. On Thursday…well, you get the idea. What with Linda and Christine working and Ed and Emma serving at Vacation Bible School, I’ve had my days pretty much to myself. And, frankly, it feels great and weird all at the same time. But one thing I am decidedly NOT these days is “busy” and I am content.

Last night at Wal-Mart I ran into a pastor-friend of mine and when I shared this with him, he laughed and said, “This might give you a taste of what retirement is all about.” But I wonder. Most retired people I know are busier – or seem to be busier – than most working people I associate with. Yes, they golf or fish or spend time with their grandkids, but so many of them are out of breath and not just because they are septua or octogenarians. Maybe it’s all a ruse to keep people like me usually on the look-out for volunteers at bay!

I recognize that this season I am in is unique and come September 1 (if not before) the pace of my life will pick-up if for no other reason that the new school year will commence. But if we all find “being busy” such the plague, how do we rid ourselves of the compulsion to “muchness and manyness”? Is it too much to state the obvious that we need to unplug more? Less TV, less internet, less I-Phone in exchange for what? In the Story of the Soils, Jesus spoke of a certain heart condition that due to the “worries about all the things they have to do and all the things they want to get” and is thereby strangled by the stress of it all so that nothing comes of it (Mark 4:19, Msg). I can’t help but think this is where a lot of us are at. Oh, the “kingdom plant” in our heart is hanging on but not growing, not thriving and certainly not producing fruit a hundred fold.

This is not new news. Others have stated this in many places before (think Charles Hummel’s booklet, The Tyranny of the Urgent). But if Jack Deere is right when he states that the essence of Christian maturity is “sharing his affections and discerning his voice,” than it should be priority to me to get in a place where I can hear him speak. I know this and have known it from way before this Sabbath rest began so maybe it’s not a matter of knowledge but of affection. I may miss my folks enough to call home every few weeks or so. But do I miss them enough to get in my car and drive down to Madison and spend the day with them especially now that time is definitely not a factor? I know how I’m supposed to answer that question but the truth is I have to think about that a bit. And maybe, in a similar way, this is the secret of why so many of us know we should spend more time with the Lord and do not has more to do with our lack of affection for him than our lack of devotion or discipline. Maybe the “muchness and manyness” of life has sapped us of the affections we should have toward God, our family and each other? Maybe, just maybe, this is what Jesus referred to as “the love of many growing cold” in the last days (Matt 24). It will grow this way because of “wickedness” (v. 12) which may mean that more wicked than the proliferation of immoral behavior, corporate greed, and political corruption in our society is the drivenness – the busyness – that many of us feel and act out of. It is straining the love of God out of us more than we know.

Charlie had it right. I'm on vacation.

1va•ca•tion

Pronunciation: \vā-ˈkā-shən, və-\

Function: noun

Usage: often attributive

Etymology: Middle English vacacioun, from Anglo-French vacacion, from Latin vacation-, vacatio freedom, exemption, from vacare

Date: 14th century

1 : a respite or a time of respite from something : INTERMISSION

2 a : a scheduled period during which activity (as of a court or school) is suspended b : a period of exemption from work granted to an employee

from Merriam-Webster On-line Dictionary

A year ago, on Charlie’s last day of school, he said to me, “Well, today’s the day – my last day of school and then I’m outta here.” When I asked him where he was going, he looked at me and simply said, “I’m on vacation.” During his graduation party a week later when people customarily ask graduates what they’re planning to do now that high school is over he would simply reply with the same refrain: “I’m on vacation.” At the end of the first week of my 13 week sabbatical that pretty much sums up how the preceding six days have felt: vacation.

Because the younger two were still in school and Linda, Christine and Charlie all were working last week I had the house to myself (not including Memorial Day). So, most mornings I spent reading, journaling and spending time meditating on the Scriptures. Some days I got my guitar out and worshiped. The phone didn’t ring. No one stopped in for a visit. There was nothing on the “To-Do List” as there was no list. It felt freeing, wonderfully freeing. As for the rest of my day, I followed my inklings. On Tuesday I hiked seven miles over in Taylor County on the Ice Age Trail. Okay, it was a road connector hike so it was all on Highway 64 but got some wonderful pictures breaking in my new SLR camera. On Thursday afternoon I did a little geocaching between Sand Creek and Bloomer. On Friday – yesterday – that was the best. Fairly spur of the moment, Linda and I decided to drive to Superior/Duluth. We haven’t been spontaneous since way before Christine came along. It was like sneaking out of school with your girl friend and yet having your teacher’s and your parents’ blessing to do so. We did a little shopping at Miller Hall Mall in Duluth, did a little beach walking on Wisconsin Point (as well as slipping in a little geocaching as long as we were there) and ate at a restaurant we’ve always wanted to try – Eddie’s World Famous Ribs (and yes, I had a full rack). We did some other things I shant write about but you get the drift – it was a wonderfully, fun day.

Since the newspaper article in the Alert came out a week or so ago (see my last installment), I’ve been stopped most days at different places in town and asked, “So, how’s your vacation going?” At Kwik Trip, at a graduation party, in my driveway this morning when someone who stopped by our little garage sale asked me, “Aren’t you the minister who is on vacation? So, how’s it going?” My recluse neighbor even had something to say about it: “I hear you’ve retired.” But probably most surprising to me is how many people from the greater community of Chetek have been making a point to come up to express how happy they are for us. I mean, everyone is entitled to a vacation but a three month one for most people (other than educators) is unheard of. And yet the people who stop us are genuinely thrilled for us. We were at Dairy Queen the other night and an elderly woman neither of us know came up to us smiling and hugged us both as if we were departing on an ocean voyage to an exotic location.

At Eric and Hannah’s graduation party today, Jessie from Refuge asked me how my first week had gone. I looked at him and said, “Well, it feels like vacation and I feel great.” Three weeks from now it may not wear as well but for now I feel like I’ve come up for air and I can breathe again.

"Look, mom. I'm on TV!"

A few weeks ago, I sent an email to Melodee E, the editor of The Chetek Alert, simply to maker her aware that all news releases for the summer months would be coming from Kari, my now temporary Administrative Assistant. In reply, she noted the change but then wanted to know why. So, I brought her up to speed on the whole sabbatical-thing and in short order, it became news.

Still questioning if this venture was really newsworthy outside the relatively small circle of Refuge and the body of Christ in our area, Linda and I sat down with writer/reporter Anita Zimmerman last Friday at the Alert for a half hour interview. I expected her to write up a short article which would be featured on the "church" page of the Alert. So you can imagine the eyebrow moment I experienced yesterday when I realized that we had made the front page. What's more, it was a 2-pager with a nice picture of us to boot. And so we have been doubly-honored. But just so I don't get a swelled head, Matt, one of the Focus-team, retorted: "So you make the front page for doing nothing and getting paid for it." Yeah, I guess I did. As the kids would say, "sweet."

If you care to read the article follow this link:
http://www.chetekalert.com/news/community_news/article_0e0163cc-68fe-11df-836f-001cc4c002e0.html

Thank you, Mel and Anita, for your kindness extended to us. My mom and dad are faithful subscribers to the Alert and I think you made them customers for a long time to come!

Second thoughts

This is why the holy fathers also withdrew into the desert alone, men such as Elijah the Tishbite and John the Baptist. For do not suppose that because the righteous were in the midst of men it was among men they had achieved their righteousness. Rather, having first practiced much quiet, they then received the power of God dwelling in them, and then God sent them into the midst of men, having acquired every virtue, so that they might act as God’s provisioners and cure men of their infirmities
Ammonas, Epistle 12
from Worshiping with the Church Fathers by Christopher A. Hall

In this final week before my sabbatical officially begins, I anticipated that it would be much like the weeks that have preceded this one have been: relatively quiet pastorally-speaking allowing me a lot of space to tie up some loose ends and (mostly) clean my office. But, people’s lives don’t run that way and suddenly there are situations at Refuge that call for a pastor’s presence.

It began Sunday afternoon. It had already been a full day what with morning worship and our daughter’s dance recital and a graduation party immediately following. So in between the party and our high school baccalaureate service, I had laid down to catch a quick nap when the phone rang. Linda took it. There was a long pause and then I heard her say, “I’ll make sure Pastor Jeff knows.” After she hung up, she gently pulled me up from foggy bottom to inform me that Renee’s sister and brother-in-law had been in a car accident that morning; that he had died and his wife had been flown to the Cities for treatment. Renee is not just a deacon at Refuge. She and her husband, Randy, are dear friends. And knowing what struggles her family have been going through these last few years now it seems another one has been added to the mix.

I pulled myself off our bed and since I don’t have a copy of our phone tree at home, I drove over to the office to begin passing the word. I also put in a call to Renee who had been in South Dakota for the weekend and was in route to the hospital. We talked a bit and prayed together. Following the Baccalaureate service, I stopped back in the office to complete getting the word out about Renee’s family when the phone rang and it was John, our local funeral director, informing me that the father of our former neighbor had died that afternoon and his family was wondering if I might preside at his funeral. Because of my long association with this family how I could I say no.

On Monday, I spoke with Renee by phone to see how things were transpiring with her sister and later that day she, her daughter, Cassandra (now married and living out east) and I met at DQ next door for a long visit – a visit, I might add, I thoroughly enjoyed.

On Tuesday, I met one more time with the Breakfast Club, this ad-hoc group of pastors, ministry leaders and their wives who together represent a circle of strength to me personally. These are not just my colleagues in ministry. We are literally co-laborers in the greater work of Christ in our area, brothers-in-arms and comrades. It is no small thing for me to back away from the table from these dear friends.

On Tuesday, Hope (a young woman from our fellowship) called to inform me that her mother had to be hospitalized with a serious infection. We prayed together and asked her to ask her mom if she might want a pastoral visit.

On Tuesday, I learned that my friend Pete, one of the leaders of the Church of Love and Compassion, a First Nations fellowship up on the Lac Coutre Oreilles reservation, has lung cancer. We spoke by phone and prayed together.

On Tuesday, I was in court with an inmate who I had met recently and who had requested my presence at his sentencing. I expected him to be released but not practically on the spot. With no family or other filial connections locally, it fell upon me to arrange housing and transportation (i.e., me) to get him to the half-way house in Polk County. I’m not complaining. The best thing for all parties involved is to help him get back to Arizona where’s he from. It just wasn’t the way I had planned to spend my afternoon.

On Tuesday, Joe (our youth leader) informed me that he and Brianna (another young woman from our fellowship) were now officially courting. It’s not bad news, mind you. But given the fact that I will be out of the loop for a few months I felt I better give my fatherly counsel about what I expected of both of them in my absence.

On Tuesday, I helped facilitate a prayer appointment with a guy that one of our men has been ministering to of late. This, too, is not a burden especially when joy and encouragement are in your wake.

Needless to say, Tuesday was a very full day indeed.

Which brings me to today, Wednesday. My final VBS planning meeting, my final consultation with my secretary. A “last lunch” with Scott, a guy from our fellowship with whom I regularly track with. A visit with the son of the father whose funeral I will conduct on Friday. One more night at Focus. To say nothing of the pastoral work yet to be done in the days ahead – two funerals, a fellowship gathering of a local para-church ministry we’re involved in, a worship gathering at the YWAM campus, Chetek’s high school graduation ceremonies on Saturday night and the worship gathering at the Justice Center this Sunday afternoon.

This probably reads as if I’m going away for good. Of course, I’m not. But so many things have arisen suddenly that tug at my heart and beckon my attendance. A pastor, after all, wants to be present at these crossroad moments in people’s lives. I realize I am not the only voice that they are listening to, that there are others often louder than my own. But a pastor speaks all the same and for reasons that still defy me, it matters. And for that reason I am tempted to look backward and consider if only momentarily my departure at this time.

Which gets to the heart of what this sabbatical seems to be about for me. It’s a wonderful thing to be needed, to feel that you make a contribution to the lives of those around you in some significant way. But if I were to die today, life would go on without me. Refuge would go on. The ministry of Jesus would definitely go on in this community. With a side glance at Bilbo, like him I am “only quite a little fellow in a wide world, after all.” No, more than they need me, they need to rely on Jesus Christ and each other, carrying each other’s burdens and by doing so fulfilling the law of Him whom they love so dearly (Galatians 6:2).

I’ve been reading Christopher A. Hall’s book, Worshiping with the Church Fathers, of late. In retrospect, it’s been good prep work before I go. The latter chapters of the book speak of the Desert Fathers, those monks of the third and fourth century who withdrew from the cities in order to pursue a vital, authentic relationship with God in the silence and inhospitable environs of the desert. But it was not an end in itself. They didn’t just withdraw for the sake of withdrawing. Rather, it was to know Him on whom they had believed and, in his time, return to “strengthen their brothers.” I hope to do just this.

I am retreating into the desert myself, if only a little ways. A good friend of mine shared this with me just recently: “The more I pray for you the more I hear... ‘He just needs to hear me again’ Did you know that the King of Kings is waiting for you? Your bridegroom is waiting to embrace you. Run... run into His arms. Feel His breath upon you. Breathe.”

I don’t know if I should be excited or terrified. But ready or not, I go there all the same. Oh, God. This is as hard as I thought it would be but “the LORD will fulfill his purpose for me; your love, O LORD, endures forever – do not abandon the works of your hands” (Ps. 138:8).