I feel like one of those red dot people

For some reason, I want to start this post with "Have you ever...?" So here goes:
Have you ever been listening to an album and remembered who you were with when you first heard it and it put you in a funk? Or been driving down a road and remembered a conversation you had with someone while driving and it ticked your brain back to that person? That is exactly where I'm at. It used to be that I would call my parents on the way back from church functions (Atlanta traffic gives ample opportunity for long but not too long conversations like these). As I drove away from one such function this evening, it hit me. If I called now, Dad would be the only one picking up and wouldn't appreciate the meeting I had just had as much as Mom would have. He would listen, sure, but Mom knows the nuts bolts gears stuff that goes into planning VBS type event sand would love to know that I'm doing that sort of thing now too. But she's not on the other end of any phone line I can dial now. And yet, I know she knows but that doesn't make it any easier to not hear her voice. Everyone said it would hit me at some point. Hello ton of bricks, I was waiting for you. Now if the tears would just stop, I'll open my eyes and click the post button.

Lenten sabbath keeping

This Lent, I've covenanted with myself to spend at least one full evening a week at home doing absolutely nothing productive. This is more difficult than it may sound for me, unfortunately enough. My own penchant for overcommitment to organizations and church means that I'm often at one meeting or another, often taking notes, often multitasking to the point of oversillifying myself. This has been especially the case in the last two months as I have begun to come to terms with my own grieving process. So this Lent, I am both taking time for myself and taking time to grieve. It will likely be a long, but needed, 40 days.

Ministry of the Unseen

I decided it might be time to update again. As my facebook friends list continues to grow on towards 1000, I continue to be blown away by the number of people in my life that I either know directly or know indirectly. I've never been one to actively make friends in a large social setting with real human interaction.

I listened to a sermon this past Sunday that, among other things, talked about the importance of the ministry of the unseen - the person behind the scenes who keeps things moving and doesn't really talk about it. For many years, that has been my ministry. I don't mean to sound self promoting or anything like that, it's just how I work and move in communities of faith. If there's something that's within my skillset and doesn't require public recognition, I'm usually the guy who steps up and does it. I guess this ministry behind the scenes is how I've gotten to know so many people.

And then, last night, in a conversation with my good friend Mark, we began hatching a plan or at least talking about yet another ministry of the unseen - pastoral care of pastors. In societies where little old ladies leagues and gossip trains run rampant, is it really possible for pastors to seek out counselors that they can go to in true confidence? Even if confidentiality exists within the practice, every last person who saw the pastor go into the counseling center or out of it will wonder "why did the pastor need counseling? is s/he still our strong pillar?" Or on an even deeper level, what level of confidentiality can pastors in hierarchical structures believe in when the counselor to whom they are sent is either recommended or directly employed by the structure through which the pastor is employed? From this conversation, Mark and I began to consider a plan to create a pastoral care service for pastors that is not affiliated with any faith body but yet still holds onto faith itself.