I Am (becoming) a Pastor

I am a pastor. This is more of a promise than a declaration at this point. I have been walking this path long before I ever knew I was on it, each step an arrival. The foremost struggle of my soul is to live not for myself but for others, not some theoretical others but real people with names, jobs, fears and, Lord willing, some hopes as well. As the hymn goes, "Christ died to make men holy, let us live to make men free." This is the cry of my crucified heart, which still finds itself beating despite its demise, beating out of faith, faith in a God who set aside everything to be with us, to be like us so that we may be with Him and perhaps even become like Him.

From the moment I knew that the only path for me worth following was that of sacrifice, I knew that I was to be a shepherd of men. Yet somehow I denied this urging, labeling it as noble vocations. If I ever even hinted of the prospect of becoming a pastor, the hint always came with a disclaimer of "maybe or might." Yet in my heart I knew otherwise and today I see this all the more clearly.

I've been reading Eugene Peterson's story of becoming a pastor. In this story of his discovery of calling, I saw myself and and knew the timing was no accident. Just like Peterson 40 years before me, I found myself at a crossroads having to decide where to step next. One pat

h has a clear title, Pastor, and yet although I have always been on it, its trodden soil seemed foreign beneath my feet. And yet, the stirring of my heart could not be ignored. This is the path for me.

As I read Peterson put words to my soul's song, I dropped to my knees and felt a need to get lower. Laying on the floor, I looked up at the cracked and dirty tile in front of my fireplace and again saw my reflection. But while it was cracked, it was still white and it did its job, protecting our home from the flames. On those tiles sat some of Mary Grace's toys: a sheep surrounded by a lion and tiger. I grasped that sheep and knew it would always be my job to do so.

I brushed away the lion and sat the sheep back down on the tile, noticing its beauty and complexity, its wool ready to be sheered to make something of beauty and of use. I realized that it would keep me warm, that it was not the caricatured stupid-sheep I had expected but was all the more beautiful because of its vulnerability. I know now how much I will learn from these sheep, that in no small way it is the sheep who keep the shepherd.

I say of this before you as an act of public surrender. This is who I am, this is who I am becoming. I ask not only for your prayers but for imaginations also, to see each day, moment, or even tile as sacred. A Place or time where a mysterious God is breaking through and making life known, that you will join me and also lead me in seeking the adventure of hope. This is a journey where every step is a new arrival.