Some thoughts on being an "unbusy" pastor

“The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry.” Brooks in The Shawshank Redemption

Busy. 

That's what we all tend to feel these days. Places to go. Things to do. People to “touch base” with. Because I'm a pastor at Christmastime I usually get a lot of undeserved sympathy - as in “It must be a pretty busy time for you, pastor” - when the truth is I'm no busier than anyone else at that time of year. But the belief persists that ministers have so much more to do every Advent than any other time of year except Lent and Easter (to be fair, my liturgical brothers in the Catholic and Lutheran traditions probably are a lot busier at those times of the year). Anyway I serve a non-traditional congregation and unless I feel compelled to schedule special events or gatherings, the members of the fellowship I serve are only too happy to not have a reason to show up in the sanctuary other than our weekly worship gathering on Sunday morning because, after all, they too are busy with the matters of their own lives.

Ask someone how things are going and they'll probably reply with some version of “fine...but we've been busy” (in fact, when is the last time you asked someone how they were and they replied, 'Great. I've had nothing to do for weeks on end'?). Pastors do the same thing but frequently they use the phrase as a catch-all excuse to get out of some function they've been invited to. “I'd like to but I'm real busy right now” or “Wish I could but gosh I just have so much to do.” Frankly, it's a cop-out but I have a measure of empathy for those who use it because most pastors usually feel they do have a lot to do.

If you're a pastor this is a good read

Lately, I've been reading Eugene H. Peterson's memoir, The Pastor and he writes about how early on in his pastoral call he struggled with being a “busy pastor.” He had successfully pioneered a new work, built a sanctuary and the congregation was self-sustaining but there always seemed like there was more stuff to do. One evening things came to a head when his five-year-old daughter asked him to read her a story:

I said, “I'm sorry, Karen, but I have a meeting tonight.”

“This is the twenty-seventh night in a row you have had a meeting.” She had been keeping track, counting.

The meeting I had to go to was with the church's elders, the ruling body of the congregation. In the seven-minute walk to the church on the way to the meeting I made a decision. If succeeding as a pastor meant failing as a parent, I was already a failed pastor. I would resign that very night.

We met in my study. I convened the meeting and scrapped the agenda. I told them what Karen had said twenty minutes earlier in our living room. And I resigned. I told them I tried not to work so hard, but that I didn't seem to be able to do it. “And it's not just Karen. It's you too. I haven't been a pastor to this congregation for six months. I pray in fits and starts. I feel like I'm in a hurry all the time. When I visit or have lunch with you, I'm not listening to you; I am thinking of ways I can get the momentum going again. My sermons are thrown together. I don't want to live like this, either with you or with my family.”

When his leaders asked what he wanted to do months of growing frustration with the way things were suddenly burst out of him in a long harangue:

“I want to be a pastor who prays. I want to be reflective and responsive and relaxed in the presence of God so that I can be reflective and responsive and relaxed in your presence. I can't do that on the run. It takes a lot of time. I started out doing that with you, but now I feel too crowded.”

“I want to be a pastor who reads and studies. This culture in which we live squeezes all the God sense out of us. I want to be observant and informed enough to help this congregation understand what we are up against, the temptations of the devil to get us thinking we can all be our own gods. This is subtle stuff. It demands some detachment and perspective. I can't do this just by trying harder.”

“I want to be a pastor who has the time to be with you in leisurely, unhurried conversations so that I can understand and be a companion with you as you grown in Christ – your doubts and your difficulties, your desires and your delights. I can't do that when I am running scared.”

“I want to be a pastor who leads you in worship, a pastor who brings you before God in receptive obedience, a pastor who preaches sermons that make scripture accessible and present and alive, a pastor who is able to give you a language and imagination that restores in you a sense of dignity as a Christian in your homes and workplaces and gets rid of these debilitating images of being a 'mere' layperson.”

“I want to have the time to read a story to Karen.”

“I want to be an unbusy pastor.” (pp. 277-78)

I wear a lot of hats around here – pastor, mayor, coach – so there are times of the calendar year when my life is fuller than say it normally is but the last thing on earth I want to be perceived as by members of our fellowship or people from town is someone who is “busy”, as in “too busy” to be called upon or available for prayer or a listening ear. Since Day 1 I've had an “open door” policy in that people don't need to have an appointment to stop in and visit me. Of course, from time to time I am with someone else but for the most part if my car is parked out front, the pastor (or coach or mayor) is “in.”

I don't want to give the wrong impression that people are beating a path to my door daily. They're not. Many days I am left to myself to tend to whatever I think needs doing that day. But just yesterday afternoon while trying to put my thoughts together for this post (which I wanted to get on-line yesterday) I had three individuals from Refuge who at various times throughout the day wanted to bend my ear for awhile. How could I not oblige them? Besides that probably was my main assignment anyway.

I realize not everyone rolls that way. Some guys block out whole mornings – or afternoons – for study and sermon prep and are religious in their commitment to that. I've tried that approach but somehow it's never worked well for me. I tend to prayer and the reading of the Scriptures when alone and if someone stops in for a chat I put that aside. I just figure it'll keep. I, too, want to be an “unbusy” pastor being attentive to whatever audibles the Lord may call for me that day. In my case, I'd like to think of myself as not busy but being fully present at where I need to be at that moment be it office, city hall or at practice. Granted, that's more art than science and I don't always get that right. Life for all of us, whether pastor or not, is all about juggling and sometimes just like everyone else I drop a few balls.

Good juggling to you