The Paradox of ministry

When I run a half-marathon it is never easy. (I hope I get to run another one?) I always seem to take about 2-3 kilometres to get into a rhythm, then about half way I start to feel a bit like saying "enough". Then I get a second wind and plod along happily. In this period I really enjoy the company of runners, the rhythmic plod of my feet, the air in my lungs and the strength I feel. About 3 k from the end it becomes just a matter of hanging in there, and I cross the line with both legs on the verge of cramping up. I sometimes say to myself, "... and I have paid for the privilege of putting myself through this pain??" But I lie on the grass in sheer ecstasy, feeling so pleased with myself. At that point all the pain is forgotten and I LOVED doing it. It is the weird paradox.

My work is like that.

I prepare for a service. I hate it. "Fancy having to get up and try to lead those people again?... I HATE this!" I try to shape and mould the service so it all fits together and makes sense, is meaningful and helpful, but while I am doing it I am asking, "What's the point?" On Saturday night I seldom get much sleep. The service is churning over in my mind, getting refined and still being shaped. After it I am absolutely shattered and go home and have an afternoon nap if I am allowed. But... and this is the weird thing... when I am doing it, often I find I am on top of the world. I have fire in my belly, there is truth I want to share and come what may those people are going to hear it. My hands are often shaking with the tension of it all, but I am switched on and I have a "this is what I was born for!" feeling. What a weird paradox

When I hear news of a death and a funeral I have to take, I groan. I know I will have three or four days of anxious nervous stewing and preparing.  Yet I visit the relatives, I listen to where they are at, I feel the service taking shape in my mind and heart. I feel ALIVE, sitting there listening with my whole being. I word each service for the family concerned, and shape the words I say to lead them toward healing and a sense of the sacred. I KNOW I am good at this. When I lead the ceremony I am sad with the mourners, but full of adrenalin and again a deep sense of fulfilment. I LOVE being able to help these people. I HATE it! It is stressful. It is an awesome responsibility.  It is anxiety producing. But I LOVE being able to do it. A weird paradox.

Today was my day off. I had lunch with my son who was visiting from Christchurch. As I sat there my cell phone rang. It was Workplace Support. There has been a sad critical incident at a workplace in town, would I visit there tomorrow and talk with the people? I said "Yes", checked arrangements, then hung up. I sat there semi-listening to my son talking. I was beginning to feel stressed about this already. How would I approach it? Do I know what to do? I then realised that I was being rude toward my son and dragged myself back to the conversation. But I have continued to stew. I know I am good at this. I know I am very experienced at critical incident work, but I still stress. I am sure that when I go there tomorrow I will be able to relate to the guys. I will listen and they will know they are being listened to. I know that even though I will be dealing with sadness and tragedy, I will be feeling really alive, focused and energised. I am fairly sure I will come away with the feeling of a job well done, even though I will be emotionally drained. But I hate this ball in my stomach of uncertainty and stress. What a weird paradox?

I once participated in a worship service where the leader sang a rewording of the "Fiddler on the Roof" song, "If I were a rich man." In the normal song the man asks God, "Would it spoil some vast eternal plan, if I were a wealthy man?" This man sang, "Would it spoil some vast eternal plan if I weren't a minister?" I often feel like singing that song. But then again I have been known to say, "I love this job! For this I was born!" What a weird paradox? What a weird guy. 

Photo: Another stressful upfront "privilege"... leading a groundbreaking ceremony for Habitat for Humanity.