My husband and I recently celebrated 30 years of marriage, and we marked this milestone with a trip to the Pacific Northwest. Part of our trip was spent exploring Olympic National Park. It’s one thing to see pictures; it’s quite another to be there in person. We were awestruck by the beauty we encountered there. As tends to happen in the wild, our eyes were drawn to aspects of nature we might otherwise miss: the unique calls of birds, the colorful stones that dotted a dramatic shoreline, the mossy branches that decorated the rainforest.
We also noticed the abundance of nurse logs. These fallen, diseased, or destroyed trees were no longer standing tall, but were lying lifeless – that is, until we looked closer. That’s when we noticed how their decaying corpses had become breeding grounds for an incredible amount of new life. One decaying log was the birthplace of not one, but seven trees.
Some of the most inspiring stories I heard when discerning a call into ministry were the ones emerging out of the fall of Christendom. By then, I had already felt the disconnect between the kingdom Jesus taught and embodied and what consumed most of the church’s time and money. These stories helped me see how out of the ruins, something more akin to Jesus could emerge. That seeing became a calling that led to church starting.
Looking back, I had no idea what I was getting myself into – nurturing the “new” is no small thing. It has often helped me to revisit Mary’s yes to birthing the Messiah. Some say she really had no choice, but I see it differently. Her “let it be” was a yes to nurturing this new life, even as it threatened her reputation, her stamina, and her relationships — even when, unbeknownst to her, it would break her heart in two. Mary chose to be a participant in the Divine Story that had shaped her, rather than merely a bystander to it.
While not everyone is called to church starting, we who preach a Story of death and resurrection are invited to participate in that Story – to tend to what is dying and to nurture what is coming to life. That could mean taking a fresh look at the nuances of the changing neighborhoods in which we serve and listening to the struggles and celebrations that are emerging today. It may look like stepping back to capture a bird’s eye view of our congregations and seeing who’s here now and what unique interests, gifts or questions they are bringing to our collective table. It could mean naming who is no longer here to sustain ministries started years ago and letting those ministries die.
Years ago, my CPE supervisor asked an important question, one that has been coming to mind a lot lately amid the weariness and overwhelm of ministry. At the time, I was expressing dissatisfaction with how little attention I seemed to be giving our marriage. My husband and I were in a time in life where kids, work, and adjusting to major changes seemed to take all of our energy. Not to mention, we were hardly the same two people who initially said “I do”.
My supervisor interrupted my complaints, pretending to need clarity but clearly teaching me an important life lesson: “So are you choosing to stay?”
I think it was the first time I recognized the power of choice, and realized that I had not made that conscious choice in a while. Marriage, like the faith I inherited, was based on a one-time decision you made, a set-in-stone vow.
Sometimes, ministry can feel that way, too. Like we said yes, and now we are bound to be here. What would happen, I wonder, if we allowed ourselves to choose again? To choose to show up to what is both dying and coming to life.
What the church is desperate for, what the world needs, are not ministry leaders who feel bound, but leaders who are alive, paying attention, nurturing newness — and choosing — not just once, but again and again and again to be here.
Reflection Questions:
- Where in your life and ministry do you connect with the image of a nurse log? What is dying and what is coming to life?
- When was the last time you took a fresh look at your neighborhood, community or congregation? Who or what is no longer there and what new energy, interests or resources are sprouting?
- What would shift if we began to see ourselves not as custodians of what is no longer working, but active participants in the still-unfolding Story told in Scripture? What might we say yes or no to?
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