One day I pondered what a big part waiting plays in our lives. In industry there is endless "down time" while machines are standing idle awaiting repair, or deliveries of raw materials are awaited. I think of security service personnel waiting long hours, perhaps in bad weather, for a suspect to show up. Waiting is part of the job; it's what you are paid for.
Some amateur enthusiasts willingly wait as part of their hobby. There is the nature photographer waiting endlessly for the perfect shot of an alighting bird, or the metal detectorist spending years hoping to stumble across a priceless hoard of buried treasure in a field.
Both these sorts of waiting have an obvious point to them. Someone who wishes to serve God awaits His timing. You have a call to serve, and you wait for God to confirm that call when a church or an organisation invites you to serve among them.
Humanly speaking it is frustrating when the waiting is long. It can feel pointless. But, as I keep reminding myself, it should also be seen as a positive experience. As I wait, I learn to depend upon God and view each day as an opportunity to prepare for service.
Signs of God's grace keep coming, brightening the waiting time. But I remain human, and the author of the book of Proverbs was writing to human beings when he penned the words, "Hope deferred makes the heart sick" (Proverbs 3:12). May the signs soon turn into the fulness.
Monday 26 July 2010
Sunday 18 July 2010
Blogging - my new venture
Hi! Welcome to my new venture, blogging, and to my first post ever. It is Sunday 18 July and in just over 6 weeks time everything goes pear-shaped. In the present economic climate I should be extremely scared but in fact my emotions are on hold. Either that or God is giving me grace to rise above them.
What is causing this drama that doesn't feel like a drama? My present church pastorate, in Worcester UK, is coming to an end after 4 and a half years. Communications have broken down, the decision to leave has been taken, a slightly unreal air of relative normality prevails, and preparations for my last Sunday on active duty, 8 August, are being made.
Perhaps the most distressing feature of the whole thing is having people constantly ask me, "But what will you go on to next?" And the answer each time is, "I don't know". It comes hard to my lips, because my counselling training tells me to try for well-rounded endings, no unfinished business, no loose ends. Yet here I am, having to leave people behind with a gnawing uncertainty hanging in the air.
It's not for want of trying to get a new pastorate. For some time I've been following up all the leads I can, but my face never seems to fit anywhere. If you want to be schooled in humility, try contacting churches as a wannabe pastor. There is nothing like it for making you feel very small.
In one way this uncertainty is a very biblical position to be in. My late mother once told me how she felt about trying to walk when she could not feel the weight she was putting on her limbs because of stroke illness. "It's like the Bible says: we walk by faith, not by sight."
I'm afraid I'm very risk averse. But I know full well that risk aversion is not the way of faith. I trust Jesus Christ to save me from the most horrendous risk there is, the risk of eternity in hell. If I can do that, surely I can trust lesser things into His hands?
Meanwhile, people are proving to be kind. It is kind of you to read thus far. Two households have opened up their homes to me. A church has offered me at least some scope for following my lifelong calling as a pastor. These are hints and pointers rather than long-term solutions, but they indicate that God is working something out. This is an adventure I would like to share with you as it unfolds. I invite you to watch this space.
What is causing this drama that doesn't feel like a drama? My present church pastorate, in Worcester UK, is coming to an end after 4 and a half years. Communications have broken down, the decision to leave has been taken, a slightly unreal air of relative normality prevails, and preparations for my last Sunday on active duty, 8 August, are being made.
Perhaps the most distressing feature of the whole thing is having people constantly ask me, "But what will you go on to next?" And the answer each time is, "I don't know". It comes hard to my lips, because my counselling training tells me to try for well-rounded endings, no unfinished business, no loose ends. Yet here I am, having to leave people behind with a gnawing uncertainty hanging in the air.
It's not for want of trying to get a new pastorate. For some time I've been following up all the leads I can, but my face never seems to fit anywhere. If you want to be schooled in humility, try contacting churches as a wannabe pastor. There is nothing like it for making you feel very small.
In one way this uncertainty is a very biblical position to be in. My late mother once told me how she felt about trying to walk when she could not feel the weight she was putting on her limbs because of stroke illness. "It's like the Bible says: we walk by faith, not by sight."
I'm afraid I'm very risk averse. But I know full well that risk aversion is not the way of faith. I trust Jesus Christ to save me from the most horrendous risk there is, the risk of eternity in hell. If I can do that, surely I can trust lesser things into His hands?
Meanwhile, people are proving to be kind. It is kind of you to read thus far. Two households have opened up their homes to me. A church has offered me at least some scope for following my lifelong calling as a pastor. These are hints and pointers rather than long-term solutions, but they indicate that God is working something out. This is an adventure I would like to share with you as it unfolds. I invite you to watch this space.
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