“Why Didn’t You Say No?”

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A Closer Look

Last week I explained why I left vocational ministry:

3. Too much undeserved criticism.

2. Too few healthy limits for myself.

1. To fulfill my true purpose; God's original call was to serve outside the church.

After I left, friends said, “You should've said no more often." I heard their care and concern. Actually, many times I said no, but I always wondered who'd get upset -- and how much. Remember, no standards exist to define when a preacher has done enough.

The "Take Care of Us" Pasture

In a recent Zits comic strip, Jeremy tells his friend Pierce, “My parents are on a new budget. I think it’s a good thing for my family to cut back on expenses…as long as it doesn’t affect me.”

The average believer doesn't set out to place the last straw of expectation that breaks the pastor's back. Sheep typically aren't out to destroy their shepherd. Still, the "take care of us" pasture most flocks graze in leads many parishioners to act like Jeremy. “My minister is on a new schedule. I think it’s a good thing for the preacher to cut back on work…as long as it doesn’t affect me.”

One Saturday night I ended a marathon week with a killer headache. I had a choice: stay home and rest to be ready to preach the next morning; or go into town to attend a function involving one active family who always sent me cards for Christmas, birthday, and Pastor Appreciation. They were counting on me to show up to support them. But that night, self-care took priority.  

The bad timing wasn’t their fault. The lambasting headache wasn't my fault. Problem solved, right?

Setting limits as a minister isn’t like saying no to a telemarketer. I can turn away a sales pitch without a backlash. But when I said no to work and yes to myself, I paid dearly.

After my Sunday obligations, I called the family to follow up. They were so frosty over the phone that it took a home visit to mend the fence. I spent more effort with the aftermath than if I'd crawled off the couch and gone. They knew I'd served a slew of other congregants that week and were miffed I didn't serve them too with my presence.

Today when I tell my senior minister to take care of himself, I don't add an unspoken, “…as long as you care for me first.” If the preacher can miss contacting others in order to practice self-care, why can't he miss contacting me sometimes? Why should I be dissatisfied with calls and visits by other Christians unless the pastor also comes?

The New Testament never portrays godly congregations as being religious consumers who are entitled to around-the-clock chaplaincy from one soul. I hold in high regard those laity and clergy who see the human leader of the church as a person, not as the Trinity-on-Demand. 

Balance. Everyone says it's a good thing. But I find balance to be an elusive target. No two people agree on its location or its timing.

So, either we grow in our current situation, or we change situations so we can grow. In the end, I saw only one good choice: the one that set me free to soar.

David

“Still Ministering”

Blazing New Trails

“Do not go where the path may lead;

go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.”

– Ralph Waldo Emerson

I was the first to leave. In April 2013 I became the initial United Methodist Church clergy to exit ordained ministry via its Voluntary Transition Program (VTP). Not wanting a heart attack to take me out early, I said, “No more. Jesus already died for the church. Why should I?”

Though relieved after turning in my credentials, I also mourned. I had invested 20 years of my life as a United Methodist minister. Did what the Holy Spirit accomplished through me during those two decades justify the tremendous price I'd paid? Only God knows for sure.

I left the pulpit but not the church. Some former pastors don’t attend church anywhere because they're so hurt and disillusioned. On my first Sunday back in the pew, I worshiped at a friend’s church. Today I’m an active lay member at a nondenominational church near my home.

Unrealistic Expectations

I left partly because I never learned how to brush off undeserved criticism. I reached my limit of people whining when I failed to meet their excessive demands. “God is available 24/7/365; as God's ambassador, you also should be available around the clock, even on days off, holidays, and vacations. The needs of the flock should always take priority over the needs of the shepherd. We pay your salary, so you should be our spiritual and congregational butler.”

Not all parishioners felt this way; many members tried to respect my time and energy. But enough folks believed this to make it a problem. How do I know? First, they called on my days off, holidays, or vacations. Second, when I put my needs above theirs and didn't come running like an ambulance, the complaints I heard and the negative body language I saw revealed their true attitude. 

No standards exist which clarify when a preacher truly has done enough.

I also left partly because I never learned how to set healthy limits for myself. All my life the strong conscientious bones in my body pushed me to excel at whatever I tried to do. As an ordained minister, I thought the Sovereign of the universe deserved an elite effort. But I couldn't respond to every need. I crossed three items off my list and five new obligations jumped on there. When was it okay to stop for the day? What was okay to let go completely?

No standards exist which clarify when a preacher truly has done enough.

 The core reason

The ultimate reason I left was to fulfill my true purpose in the priesthood of all believers.

I embraced the VTP mainly because in 1991, God called me to serve outside the church. After seminary, for 17 years respected leaders who liked me made my appointments. Yet the institution ignored my nontraditional call by continuing to cram my rectangular shape into its round pulpit slots. These leaders weren't bad or mean. They simply did what they had always done. Institutions are flustered by special cases because that means change. 

Contrary to popular belief, not every call from God to ordained ministry is permanent. Mine extended for a long season but not until retirement.

Why must the church always be the last stop instead of the first step?

If God can call a 45-year-old farmer to preach full-time,

why can’t God call a 45-year-old preacher to farm full-time?

I surrendered my credentials but not my call. I didn’t turn my back on the Lord’s will. Instead, I left church ministry to start fulfilling God’s true purpose for me.

David

“Into a Spacious Place”

From Salvation to Spacious

Jesus blessed me with salvation years ago. I’ve experienced God’s power many times since. But the reality is, believers can hold a ticket to heaven in their pocket and still be bound by deceptive falsehood and generational sin.

It happened to me.

For years I served Jesus confined by the (often unreasonable) expectations of others. Inside my cell, the leg-irons of self-imposed super high expectations further hindered my walk with Christ. At midlife I discovered that all along I could access the key to my release. Knowing the truth led me to unlock the shackles, open the door, and walk to freedom.

He brought me out into a spacious place;
he rescued me because he delighted in me.
(Psalm 18:19 and II Samuel 22:20, NIV)

You...have set my feet in a spacious place. (Psalm 31:8, NIV)

I like living in a broad place though I haven’t been on a payroll since June 2012. I don’t know when I’ll earn my next dollar. But in Christ I’ve never been richer or freer.

One Step Up, Three Steps Back

Before I quit church ministry (but not the church or ministry), I suffered chest pains every day for 18 months. Stress tests found nothing wrong with my heart. Yet in December 2011, various professionals at the Davidson Centre warned me I was on the verge of hospitalization.[i] Depression and anxiety pushed me to the edge of burnout. My response to 20 years in the United Methodist Church (UMC) clergy system led my family physician to suggest finding a healthier way to serve God.

In January 2012 I took a 2-month sabbatical (“spiritual and formational growth leave” so I still got paid), during which I decided to leave the pulpit permanently in June. I preached my last sermon on Father’s Day and started an unpaid leave.

A month later, the years of missed Sabbaths and my perfectionist tendencies exacted another toll. The prediction of the Davidson professionals came true. In July 2012 I was admitted to the hospital.

An invisible rope looped around my chest and each end played tug-of-war for 19 hours. “Am I dying?” I wondered at 2 a.m. in my hospital bed. Nitroglycerine in the ER not only failed to ease the tightness, it added a killer headache to my chest pain. The rope let go only after an echocardiogram and a heart catheterization turned out well.

The route to freedom is more like a mountain road than a straight line.

VTP to the Rescue

The UMC’s Voluntary Transition Program began January 1, 2013, to offer clergy a graceful way to change vocations, to exit ordained ministry. Last spring I jumped at the VTP when I learned of it. After 10 months on leave, I became the first United Methodist clergy in the world to sign up.

The VTP helped shift my ministry from the pulpit back to the pew. I lived as a disciple long before the bishop laid hands on me; through baptism, all Christians are commissioned for ministry in the priesthood of all believers. God used VTP benefits to enlarge my spacious place through a severance payment, help with moving expenses, and career counseling.

I turned in my clergy credentials on April 23, 2013. I drove home sad, but free. I was no longer the minister, pastor, preacher, reverend. Yet I remained what matters most: a child of God. 

[i] The Davidson Centre for the Professions offers on-site renewal programs for ministry, medicine, law, and public service. See www.davcp.com.

David