Feeding the poor and homeless everyday will be a good thing, not merely for my own soul, but simply because the need is there. That it only pays $7.39 an hour will be a hardship. I will be one of the poor I am trying to help. But I already am. Were it not for the kindness of a friend we could not afford to live in the simple two-bedroom apartment we have now. I’m behind on my car payments and have to sell a few things to keep up. I’ve resisted selling off my books. I suppose the computer or iPad would be the last to go if it comes to that, though we could get something for the birds. We wouldn’t sell our dog.
Am I poor? In what since? In material things, pretty much. I haven’t worked full-time for almost a year. I have creditors calling everyday.
HumanResources called today. Tomorrow I go downtown (Louisville) to fill out the paperwork for a job as assistant cook for the Salvation Army. I believe God is leading me down this path and I don’t mind kitchen work. I like it. But I wonder what it means for my life that I’ve moved from pastoring to this? Is God humbling me or leading me to a higher plain in life? Or is it both?
Is it a waste of “talents” and the time I’ve put into my education to spend the rest of my days feeding the homeless? Am I running from responsibility by taking the less demanding job? Or should I be proud of myself in taking a work I wouldn’t have taken unless God had directly led me there?
I admit to being tempted with pride, that strange feeling of superiority that comes to some when they take a position they know others with the same education or background would not. But I’ve always been a contra kind of guy, the black sheep in the herd. It’s more natural for me to resist authority and expectations. I was expelled from two schools. Failed out of another. I’ve refused to ask for help and then resented it when none was offered. That is pride too. Pride has always been my downfall.
Of course, Jesus said the first would be last and the last first, which adds irony to being proud of a humble place. But is it a humble place? What makes for a humble location in life? Who is humble?
Humility is a thing of the heart, a hidden quality that is known for it’s unobtrusive nature. It is seen best when it is hidden most. Self-conscious humility is a self-contradiction.
Before you lurch toward correcting me, I know I’m in for hard work. I don’t mean the kitchen work. As I said, I like it. I mean caring for the poor. Poverty is romanticized by the world, by the ignorant, by those who have never felt the pain and distress of poverty themselves. I’ve been homeless. I am a recovering drug addict. There is a mean and ugly side to poverty, just as there is with wealth, that knows nothing of basic human dignity. I know how hard it is to help the helpless who still live in denial and its consequent immorality, rich or poor.
I’ve lived in the “projects”. At other times I would have been described as white, trailer-trash. Harsh, but true in my case. I fit the stereo-type. I owned it. I’ve drawn food stamps for several years and for three received a monthly “crazy check” for drug-related depression. I spent the money on drugs and bootlegging. Married three times, a poor husband and poorer father to two neglected children. The immorality of it all…I won’t elaborate.
I’ve also been tempted to fear God has rejected me, that through faults, sins, and mistakes I’ve disqualified myself for the spiritual care of souls. Why did he ever call me to it all? I know he did not make a mistake. Have I walked away because it was too hard? Will I ever pastor again? Should I? The temptation and the questions raise the whole idea of what it means to be a spiritual leader, guide, counselor, director, or servant. Still, a rose by any other name is still a rose.
I don’t miss pastoral work as it has come to be and as others often see it, being paid to perform rather than to live a holy life. I’ve met very few, pastors themselves or members, who understand that the pastor’s greatest work is to be a holy man or woman. We talk about it and that’s about as far as it goes. True holiness in Christ is rare among pastors, therefore, it is rare in the church herself. I don’t miss the false expectations and deceit, mine and others, that was so much a part of the job. I won’t “do” church.
The time I spent in college working in campus kitchens, doing grill work, washing dishes, and prepping food was something I enjoyed. As I said, I like kitchen work, whatever it is. But when I thought of it as a job for life I felt I would be neglecting God’s call to teach His word. Or when I worked for years painting houses I was always wanting to minister full time. I felt there was more to come.
Is this the “more” or am I going backward? Have I simply slipped into a better way of caring for souls? It is probably not “either-or”. The true and good life is in God’s calling, in discipleship as I exercise the gifts he had given me by his grace. If I choose to be chosen by Him, that is enough.
I don’t know that I can pastor again, not as it is defined today. I tried, but the feeling of shame was oppressing. I know that sounds condescending. Perhaps it is. Still, the level of dishonesty and willful neglect among professing Christians often felt like hell on earth to me. Then there are my own sins. Of course, I’m guilty of the same hypocrisy I complain of and pastoring just made me feel worse.
I was angry. Maybe I still am. Though rare, there is a good anger. When I see the comfortable refusing to sacrifice their time to connect with the suffering I burn inside. Occasionally the fire leaks out. I know what it feels like to be despised and neglected for years on end.
I’m still preaching on the weekends. My studies are concentrating more and more on discipleship. I study and meditate over the Sermon on the Mount most everyday. I hope I’ll have something to say now. I am helping with a 12 step program. I am still a spiritual director, caring for souls, mine and theirs, by the grace of Christ. Who am? What am I? I am a disciple of Christ.
I know by now that when God is leading the path is seldom one the natural heart finds familiar. Part of the good life of the kingdom of heaven is being a stranger in a strange land. There should be a certain sense of foolishness and ignorance about it. And a loneliness that only Christ can salve. If there is no accusation from others we are probably on the wrong track. I don’t mean there are no true fools. I’ve been that and can be now. I’m speaking of being a fool for Christ, a fool for seeing my only hope in taking up my cross and following Jesus everyday. I want to embrace Christ on the cross, to join him there. Isn’t that what it means to “come up higher”? But “who is sufficient for these things”? His grace is perfected in weakness; He alone can make me a sufficient man.