Faith Works 6-16-18

Faith Works 6-16-18

Jeff Gill

 

Everything to live for

___

 

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

1-800-273-8255

 

You'll see that number again. It's not the only option, but it's the most immediately accessible one, whether you're reading this in print, on a computer, or off of your phone. You may even be able to click directly on it.

 

Locally, we have 2-1-1. Basically, the same deal, shorter string of numbers, but trained and prepared counselors at Pathways here in Newark. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline folks have much the same skills and experience, and if that's where you'd rather call, try 1-800-273-8255 but just 2-1-1 will do.

 

What won't do is silence. Evasion. Denial. I am a pastor and also a mediator with lots of community involvement in responding to abuse and neglect of children and also homelessness . . . so I'm familiar with denial. Avoiding inevitable problems past the point of common sense or sweet reason. Not confronting real issues while you still can change something. Everyone can play.

 

But silence and stigma and nervousness around saying something offensive or just being wrong has helped get us to where the national suicide rate is up 30% in the United States, says the CDC, and in Ohio it's closer to 36%. Around four a day in our state alone. It's the tenth most frequent cause of death, and rising; it's the second most likely reason for the death of a young person.

 

We've tried not talking about it. Hiding the supposedly shameful fact of a family member dying by their own hand. We worry about talking about the wrong things, and I do believe that discussion in media or general conversation about details of the "how" can be dangerously counterproductive, but trying to hide the reality of suicide does not seem to reduce the frequency of the impulse.

 

There's much more known about depression and anxiety and other illnesses which can trigger both those issues and create hallucinations or confusion which hitch up to the deep sorrow and driving hopelessness to pull the sufferer into a deeper hole.

 

Celebrities and neighbors alike are said to be "the last person you would have thought" or "they had everything to live for." So often, after the shock wears off, over time the friends and family start to realize there were signs, dark hints, blatant statements that everyone else laughed off nervously. Even so, to ask "are you thinking about hurting yourself?" seems wrong, forward, pushy.

 

To inquire "have you taken steps to plan doing that?" I think we flinch from for fear someone we know might say "actually, yes" because then we aren't sure what to do next.

 

This is where the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is not just for a depressed person to call for a friendly voice to help talk them into a better viewpoint, although at 1-800-273-8255 they're willing to do just that. But you can call that same number to say "I have this friend, and…"

 

Will they wonder if you're not talking about yourself? Actually, they've heard it all. "Calling for a friend" does happen, but that's cool, too; and lots of actual friends call because they're not sure how to talk to their actual friend who is actually giving away their most precious possessions, and someone read online somewhere that this might be a sign of . . . maybe? You know? So should I . . . ?

 

It's all good. If you have questions, make the call. They're happy to help, or give you other guidance in your community, whatever direction the conversation takes you.

 

In religious circles, there has been a general assumption in the past that suicide was a unique challenge to faith, and a completed suicide an offense against God. While it certainly is not what any loving Lord I can conceive of would want for any of us, we're all sinners (says my Christian background, anyhow), and I'm generally reluctant to start ranking sin. Sin is bad, holiness is good, and God wants the good for us. Suicide is not good.

 

But for someone to be considering suicide doesn't mean they're considering a greater slight against a good God than any other of our many ways to rebel against the Lord's plan, and yes, I think that includes eating that second cream-filled. We all kick against the Lord's best for us in many ways. We all need guidance and mentorship and help to find the path to holiness. That includes medical assistance if we've broken an arm, counseling if our heart is well and truly broken, medications if our thinking is busted.

 

Or calling the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's helped people make just that call many times. Tell him how you've been helped by such a call or contact at knapsack77@gmail.com or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

 

Faith Works 6-9-18 re-edited for clarity!

Faith Works 6-9-18

Jeff Gill

 

When you know what you don't know
___

 

 

Ministers in full-time calls to serve congregations used to stay on average about four years or so, and now it's more like six.

 

Last week I noted this shift, perhaps a trend, perhaps not, but it marks where I'm at as of this week . . . and that this is a new place to be, for me.

 

Averages mean, of course, that you have about as many tenures above that figure as below. The church I serve has had fourteen and sixteen year pastorates in the last seventy-five years, as well as a couple of three or five year stays. I'm the ninth pastor of this congregation since World War II began, and that makes our church stand out, with a nine year average term of service in the modern era (we go back to 1884, but the early years had some high turnover for understandable reasons).

 

In general, traditional denominational Protestant churches have tended towards short pastorates, and the thinking today is that this has contributed to a fair amount of instability, not just for clergy and their families but for their churches in general. That realization may be one of the reasons for longer tenures, but other factors are in play.

 

Some of this is due to Baby Boomer pastors delaying retirement. I could write a whole column on Boomers and retirement, but we'll save that for another day. There's plenty of room to say it's due to better health and simply the ability to serve longer, but reason to worry that some of it has to do with fiscal pressures keeping preachers working past where they'd really like to, so they can afford to retire some day.

 

And more constructively, there's just an awareness, especially among younger "Gen X" preachers, that the so-called career path in ministry is largely a myth. "Moving up" isn't all it's cracked up to be, and sometimes, it's a bad move both spiritually and practically.

 

Fiscally, though, moving is harder than it was just a decade, let alone two decades ago. This gets into the complexities of health insurance, how church groups are handling those matters, and the shift to spousal coverage as the primary way ministers gain access to health insurance. In general, a pastoral move doesn't take place for the same reasons they used to.

 

I'd like to think that a big reason for the increase in pastoral stability is because of increasing awareness and understanding that when you are called to a community, you have to develop relationships and build your connections over a long arc. Your ministry needs the deep roots of lengthy service to start showing some fruit.

 

This is where I draw no little encouragement from older and wiser colleagues who say that it's only in your sixth and seventh years in a church that you really start to know your setting, to understand your calling in that context, to be able to develop ministries and mission and evangelism that's really what God is calling you to proclaim.

 

Yes, there's what's called a "honeymoon" period where you can get away with making changes that in years four or five folks will push back against . . . but I believe there's a period of trust and partnership coming after six or seven years where you can present a vision for a church as a leader that people will hear and respond to in partnership, as fellow laborers in a shared vineyard.

 

It does take almost six years to know where the light switches are without looking, to understand the unspoken assumptions that everyone works under, to come to a comprehension of the stories not told that are as important as the tales that are retold and repeated with pride and confidence.

 

Some of that six or seven year horizon, I'd argue, has something to do with healing and recovery and restoration. Most communities have old wounds and ancient pains, including faith communities, which need a new balm from Gilead to come and ease the ailments and injuries of the past. Once those scars heal over, then new growth can occur.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's been serving for six years, or you might say ten years, where he is ministering now. You can ask him to explain that at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter. 

Faith Works 6-9-18

Faith Works 6-9-18

Jeff Gill

 

When you know what you don't know
___

  

Ministers in full-time calls to serve congregations used to stay on average about four years or so, and now it's more like six.

 

Last week I noted this shift, perhaps a trend, perhaps not, but it marks where I'm at as of this week . . . and that this is a new place to be, for me.

 

Averages mean, of course, that you have about as many tenures above that figure as below. The church I serve has had fourteen and sixteen year pastorates in the last seventy-five years, as well as a couple of three or five year stays. I'm the ninth pastor of this congregation since World War II began, and that makes our church stand out, with a nine year average term of service in the modern era (we go back to 1884, but the early years had some high turnover for understandable reasons).

 

In general, traditional denominational Protestant churches have tended towards short pastorates, and the thinking today is that this has contributed to a fair amount of instability, not just for clergy and their families but for their churches in general. That realization may be one of the reasons for longer tenures, but other factors are in play.

 

Some of this is due to Baby Boomer pastors delaying retirement. I could write a whole column on Boomers and retirement, but we'll save that for another day. There's plenty of room to say it's due to better health and simply the ability to serve longer, but reason to worry that much of it has to do with fiscal pressures keeping some preachers working past where they'd really like to, so they can afford to retire later.

 

And more constructively, there's just an awareness, especially among younger "Gen X" preachers, that the so-called career path in ministry is largely a myth. "Moving up" isn't all it's cracked up to be, and sometimes, it's a bad move both spiritually and practically.

 

Fiscally, though, moving is harder than it was just a decade, let alone two decades ago. This gets into the complexities of health insurance, how church groups are handling those matters, and the shift to spousal coverage as the primary way ministers gain access to health insurance, but in general a pastoral move doesn't take place for the same reasons they used to.

 

I'd like to think that a big reason for the increase in pastoral time in a certain place is because of increasing awareness and understanding that when you are called to a community, you have to develop relationships and build your connections over a long arc. Your ministry needs the deep roots of lengthy service to start showing some fruit.

 

This is where I draw no little encouragement from older and wiser colleagues who say that it's only in your sixth and seventh years in a church that you really start to know your setting, to understand your calling in that context, to be able to develop ministries and mission and evangelism that's really what God is calling you to proclaim.

 

Yes, there's what's called a "honeymoon" period where you can get away with making changes that in years four or five folks will push back against . . . but I believe there's a period of trust and partnership coming after six or seven years where you can present a vision for a church as a leader that people will hear and respond to in partnership, as fellow laborers in a shared vineyard.

 

It does take almost six years to know where the light switches are without looking, to understand the unspoken assumptions that everyone works under, to come to a comprehension of the stories not told that are as important as the tales that are retold and repeated with pride and confidence.

 

Some of that six or seven year horizon, I'd argue, has something to do with healing and recovery and restoration. Most communities have old wounds and ancient pains which need a new balm from Gilead to come and ease the ailments and injuries of the past. Once those scars heal over, then new growth can occur.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's lived here for many years, but has been in a regular pulpit now for six years. Tell him what's changed since 2012 for you in faith formation and leadership development at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter. 

Notes From My Knapsack 6-6-18

Notes From My Knapsack 6-6-18

Jeff Gill

 

Five years, and some lessons still coming

___

 

In some ways, you're lucky you haven't heard about Philmont every two weeks for the last five years in this space.

 

Except I suspect you really have been.

 

It will be five years ago next week that a group of Scouts from Granville headed late one night up to Lake Erie, the Amtrak station in Sandusky, and the beginning of a cross-country train trip to New Mexico and the fulfillment of a long standing dream of mine. I got to be part of a backpacking trek with my son, spending ten days in the backcountry traveling around 100 miles up mountains and down valleys at Philmont Scout Ranch.

 

Philmont 2013 also happened to be the 75^th anniversary of the establishment of the place as a high adventure camp for the Boy Scouts of America, a gift of oilman Waite Phillips. Phillips was not the Phillips 66 guy (they were relations), but he made a fortune in the early oil business, he had a taste for the Old West, and a gift for generosity. 2013 was also the 50^th anniversary of the gift that added Baldy Mountain to the acreage, New Mexico's second highest peak at 12,441 feet. We rode the Southwestern Chief to Raton, New Mexico and right into a big summer . . . for forest fires nearby, smoke in the air, strange colors in the sunsets, and massive rearrangement of schedules.

 

The Scout motto is, after all, "Be prepared" and we adapted, adjusted, and overcame our challenges. My son outhiked me most days, but I was also dawdling to take pictures, write down notes in my little pocket booklet, and just to absorb as much of the experience as I could.

 

I think my son appreciated it; at least he said on our last day "Dad, I want to come back in 2038 for the 100^th anniversary!" So he had to have enjoyed it at least a little.

 

For me, getting to the top of Baldy Mountain was a personal achievement, but getting to do it with my son (okay, he got there five minutes ahead of me, but you know what I mean) was one of those once-in-a-lifetime moments.

 

The trek as a whole, though, was filled with a bounty of all-of-your-lifetime moments. For instance, I came to a whole new appreciation for water, clean water, drinking water. I literally have never drunk a glass of water the same way since those ten days.

 

And while every crew is different, and our crew had our conflicts and tensions as any group of ten males is likely to have on foot for a hundred miles, we looked out for each other, supported one another, and grew together across those fifteen days of travel and trek and the train back home. I have been involved in community building and leadership all of my life, but since that summer I think about group building and setting collective goals very differently than I did before.

 

And I came to deeply respect the man whose vision gave us this tool for leadership development. Waite Phillips was a gusher of aphorisms, most of them still quite quotable, but one of my favorites will round this reflection out: "What is really important is what you learn after thinking you know it all."

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's still processing what he learned on the trail in 2013, and has more to say next time about that trip! Tell him about your road scholarship at knapsack77@gmail.com or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.    

Faith Works 6-2-18

Faith Works 6-2-18

Jeff Gill

 

How long, O Lord? How long?
___

  

Psalms, II Peter, Habakkuk. They all ask it, in different forms, but a similar statement:

 

How long, O Lord? How long?

 

God sees things in the light of eternity. We are a little bit more short-term in our mindset than that, earthly creatures that we are.

 

How long?

 

To us, a year is a long time. To the Lord, a thousand years are like a day, or so the Bible tells us. We lack the perspective of a tree, or a rock, let alone the divine viewpoint of forever. Twenty minutes or two hours wait drives us to distraction, but that's not a long stretch of time in the cosmic view.

 

How long, O Lord?

 

I've now been in parish ministry for over thirty years, and so much has changed in that time. The historian in me makes me often skeptical of those who argue for "it's never been worse!" (or better) but the rate and amount of change in society, within our culture, driven by technology, in the last quarter-century or so, does seem to be without precedent. I reserve the right to disagree with myself later!

 

And this week, I cross a very interesting horizon, for me at any rate. I will have been the pastor of the congregation I serve for more than six years. I have never been at one church for more than six years since I was a child growing up in my hometown congregation. There, I had eighteen years of continuity . . . but as a minister, I've served in a number of churches for four years, once for five, and once before for six. Never have I been part of a congregation as a called preaching and teaching elder in ministry for more than six.

 

If some reading this think "well, he can't keep a job" I would understand! But when I was in seminary, we heard often that the average time at a church for an ordained minister was just over four years. It was even presented as a sort of positive to us, the experience of newness both for the preacher and the people in the church; I've heard more than a few lay leaders in congregations say "really, I'm not sure a minister should stay more than five or six years." And denominational leaders would state, with varying degrees of affirmation or regret, that 4.4 years was a standard tenure for serving clergy.

 

I've done some looking around for research, studies on this in recent years, and according to LifeWay Research this has crept up to six years more recently. In their analysis, I'm on the bubble. There's a mix of opinions and study on this question, and many consultants argue that nothing major can happen to transform a ministry or a congregation until about seven years in service. That makes a great deal of sense to me, actually.

 

In your first two years, you can make all sorts of changes and get away with it. The "honeymoon" it's called. Among experienced preachers, the third year is often called "the year of crisis," because that's when the forces of inertia and resistance start to push back. Make everything the way it had been, or slow up the transition, or just go away – these things do indeed happen around the three year mark. You either start to put down roots, or feel the cold winds of winter settle in around you, blowing your plans into icy frozen pauses.

 

Keep in mind that "average" is as likely to mean half at two or three years and half at ten or twelve. If six years at a church as preacher is the norm, you may find lots of six year tenures, but I suspect you find more short-timers, and a handful of long-term ministries.

 

I'd like to optimistically talk about the role and opportunities of long-term ministry next week . . . if I still can! But as I pass the six year mark into this new territory for me as a minister, I've got a few ideas about what this transition means, not just for the church I'm part of now, but for congregations in general.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's lived here for many years, but has been in a regular pulpit now for six years. Tell him what's changed since 2012 for you in faith formation and leadership development at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.