The vocation
I think it is interesting that Duke's study on pastoral health has garnered attention on major news outlets. I think the study shows some disturbing trends in my tribe, but I also think it is a bit lopsided. Maybe some of the assumptions within our vocation skew the way we understand health.
For example, we often romanticize the monastic tradition and believe, in part, that care of self should have a monastic quality. We also adopt from the 1960/70s therapeutic ministry movement and believe "I'm okay you're okay" as a pastoral truism. Finally, we face the tension of wanting to be authentic but at times also feeling the need "to be the Christian that everyone else wants to be," and so self-care becomes a ritual to "perfection." I am interested in how lawyers, teachers, medical professionals, stay-at-home parents, and administrative assistants hear the discussions about pastors and self-care.
I remember going away for a church trip (pastors' conference), and when I returned I said to my wife (also a pastor but did not attend the conference) "I am wiped - I need some alone time to recover." My feelings were true, but at the same time my seminary-formed expectations of boundaries and self-care overshadowed my wife's frustration - she had been home with our two kids for five days, ALONE, and our youngest was cutting new teeth. She desired some alone-time, and deservedly so.
I'm still unraveling my thoughts on the Duke study, and I am not sure how to assess my tribe. I'm not even sure about how I feel about the words, "self-care" as the very grammar seems contrary to the theology we desire to practice - it tends toward the therapeutic and not the kenotic (Philippians 2). On one hand, I talk with my father, who is in sales, and thank God that I am not trying to post budget numbers in a make-no-sense-day-to-day economy. On the other hand, I wish my work was less ambiguous and tension-filled (Hollifield, God's Ambassadors) than it is and has been throughout American history. In the end, though I do not have to post numbers nor do I have clarity - I have a pretty phenomenal life - I preach good news in a world full of apocalyptic messages; I welcome infants into the world through dedication and baptism; I participate in the world-to-come through services of the resurrection (funerals); and I am able to promote questions that foster conversation, difficult choices, and questions the powers of this world - it's my job. It is also my job to not work alone - we invite laity, other pastors, and the Holy Spirit to make the gospel LIFE. It is a good world to work.
Yes, there are times when I am depleted, concerned about the coming conflicts, and wondering if I am making any difference at all. But so are my parents, my congregants, and my community. These life questions are not isolated to the pastorate; I believe the questions are exaggerated due to the assumption that pastors are full of assurance. I think not.
In these moments when depletion, anxiety, and doubt arise, I know what I need to do, and it is usually a Romans 7 moment of decision. When I succeed to follow the Holy Spirit's leading, I walk away from the desk, the phone calls, the non-important-but seemingly urgent emails, and I put on my running shoes for exercise, return to The Divine Hours for centering reflection, or just walk home to play with my children for an hour or two. This is the flexibility my work offers, and to ignore the flex in pursuit of the urgent turns into a failure of Christian practice, monastic or otherwise.
For example, we often romanticize the monastic tradition and believe, in part, that care of self should have a monastic quality. We also adopt from the 1960/70s therapeutic ministry movement and believe "I'm okay you're okay" as a pastoral truism. Finally, we face the tension of wanting to be authentic but at times also feeling the need "to be the Christian that everyone else wants to be," and so self-care becomes a ritual to "perfection." I am interested in how lawyers, teachers, medical professionals, stay-at-home parents, and administrative assistants hear the discussions about pastors and self-care.
I remember going away for a church trip (pastors' conference), and when I returned I said to my wife (also a pastor but did not attend the conference) "I am wiped - I need some alone time to recover." My feelings were true, but at the same time my seminary-formed expectations of boundaries and self-care overshadowed my wife's frustration - she had been home with our two kids for five days, ALONE, and our youngest was cutting new teeth. She desired some alone-time, and deservedly so.
I'm still unraveling my thoughts on the Duke study, and I am not sure how to assess my tribe. I'm not even sure about how I feel about the words, "self-care" as the very grammar seems contrary to the theology we desire to practice - it tends toward the therapeutic and not the kenotic (Philippians 2). On one hand, I talk with my father, who is in sales, and thank God that I am not trying to post budget numbers in a make-no-sense-day-to-day economy. On the other hand, I wish my work was less ambiguous and tension-filled (Hollifield, God's Ambassadors) than it is and has been throughout American history. In the end, though I do not have to post numbers nor do I have clarity - I have a pretty phenomenal life - I preach good news in a world full of apocalyptic messages; I welcome infants into the world through dedication and baptism; I participate in the world-to-come through services of the resurrection (funerals); and I am able to promote questions that foster conversation, difficult choices, and questions the powers of this world - it's my job. It is also my job to not work alone - we invite laity, other pastors, and the Holy Spirit to make the gospel LIFE. It is a good world to work.
Yes, there are times when I am depleted, concerned about the coming conflicts, and wondering if I am making any difference at all. But so are my parents, my congregants, and my community. These life questions are not isolated to the pastorate; I believe the questions are exaggerated due to the assumption that pastors are full of assurance. I think not.
In these moments when depletion, anxiety, and doubt arise, I know what I need to do, and it is usually a Romans 7 moment of decision. When I succeed to follow the Holy Spirit's leading, I walk away from the desk, the phone calls, the non-important-but seemingly urgent emails, and I put on my running shoes for exercise, return to The Divine Hours for centering reflection, or just walk home to play with my children for an hour or two. This is the flexibility my work offers, and to ignore the flex in pursuit of the urgent turns into a failure of Christian practice, monastic or otherwise.
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