Amazed by Grace, Part Infinity

One of the things that gave me the most anxiety as I returned to the pastorate was how my congregation(s) would treat my children. I had heard good stories, but I also heard horror stories about churches that didn't want children, treated them as nuisances, placed unrealistic expectations on the pastor's children, etc.

There have been many times over the past year when the people of the Cheriton Charge proved those fears wrong...they have been OUTSTANDING in terms of loving and embracing my children, showing them God's love, living out their baptismal vows...we've been truly blessed.

But today knocked my socks off...and it wasn't until we got home and were eating lunch that the magnitude of what happened hit me.

Susanna (my 5 1/2 yo) has been serving as an acolyte since September. She showed interest, and the member who trains our acolytes did an excellent job training her. In 10 months, we have had no incidences, and Susanna now needs very little supervision. She knows what to do, and she does it.

At the close of the service today, Susanna was in the area around the altar, doing her thing. She had lit her wick, extinguished one candle, and was on her way to extinguish another. We were singing the closing hymn, and all of a sudden I look down (the pulpit is a foot or so above the altar) and see Susanna, crying...with no candlelighter in her hand.

The candlelighter is on the floor...with the WICK STILL LIT.

I swung into action, picked up the candlelighter thingy, extinguished the flame, tossed it aside, and then checked on my daughter. (I was worried about her, of course, but I also didn't want us all to go up in flames.)

She was fine: some melted wax had gotten onto her hand, and so she instinctively dropped the candlelighter. It hurt a little bit where the hot wax had touched it, but I think she was more scared than anything.

What happened next amazed me.

One member (a retired nurse) came up, took Susanna by the hand, and led her to the kitchen to get some ice (I still had to do the benediction).

After I did the benediction, at least 10 other people came up to me and asked, "what happened? Is she OK?"

Everyone asked about my daughter.

No one asked about the carpet.

Their first instinct, their first thought, was about the welfare of my daughter, because they care more about her than about the carpet (which is fine...there may be a teensy burn hole, but it's not very noticeable).

I know, I know...that's the way it's SUPPOSED to be...

But in so many churches, it's not that way. In so many churches, we place a higher value on things than on people. In so many churches, there would have been a stampede to check out the carpet rather than a stampede to check on my daughter.

I am so very, very thankful that my children are being shown Christ's love through the members of my churches. I am so very blessed to serve a church that allows a five-year-old with the desire to be an acolyte to serve in that capacity, and that when she makes a mistake, they respond with love and concern, and not judgment.

Susanna may or may not remember today's events, but I always will. And I will remind her of the little church in the little town on the Eastern Shore who showed her, and her parents, God's amazing love and grace, and helped us all grow up a little bit.

Thank you, Cheriton UMC. The Moneys are blessed to be among you.

Humpty Dumpty: An Alternative Ending

We've all heard the nursery rhyme:

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall

And all the king's horses and all the king's men

Couldn't put Humpty together again...

But what if it ended a little differently? Maybe with a happier ending...

Humpty Dumpty did sit on a wall...and Humpty did have a great fall...a very painful and embarrassing fall that nearly ruined everything...

BUT...

....A caring friend and colleague used Super Glue and tape to hold the pieces of Humpty Dumpty together...

....A CPE supervisor and a cohort of fellow chaplains helped heal Humpty Dumpty so you almost couldn't tell she had a fall...and so she was willing to sort of trust the King again. 

....An amazing community of faith helped her hear and respond when the King asked Humpty to sit on the wall again. 

....A dedicated and gifted pastor/colleague/friend worked with Humpty so she had the courage and the strength to climb up the wall and sit on it again. 

...Her family and friends and colleagues cheered her on and encouraged her as she climbed and sat on the wall once again...

And Humpty was thankful for it all...and thankful to be serving the King once again...

...But then she started experiencing challenges. 

...She felt afraid...what if she fell again?

...She felt alone...it was lonely sitting up on the wall.

...She felt worried. What if she had made a huge mistake? 

Humpty...may have whined and complained and when she slipped a few times, gotten frustrated that no one seemed like they were going to catch her if she fell again. All her fellow wall-sitters seemed to be looking elsewhere. She loved the wall, but keeping the balance was SO VERY HARD and she just didn't know how to do it. 

So Humpty looked around to see what everyone else was looking at, and saw that everyone was looking at the King. 

So Humpty, desperate for help by now, cried out to the King...and found that when she was looking at the King, she didn't feel as afraid, or as alone, or as worried...and she felt stronger and more confident about sitting on the wall. 

And in the hardest moments, she felt the King holding her up...and it was then that she realized what she had known all along...

That in the falling...and the shattering...and the healing...and the climbing...and the struggling...that the King was working in and through everyone, and as long as Humpty kept her eyes and her focus on the King and on serving him, that he wouldn't let her fall again. 

And so Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall...and she didn't fall, because she had learned to rely upon the King. 

The Wilderness: No Way But Forward

"Then the people of Israel set out from Mount Hor, taking the road to the Red Sea to go around the land of Edom. But the people grew impatient with the long journey, and they began to speak against God and Moses. 'Why have you brought us out of Egypt to die here in the wilderness?' they complained. 'There is nothing to eat here and nothing to drink. And we hate this horrible manna!'" -Numbers 21:4-5

"My company before is gone, and I am left alone with Thee."

-Charles Wesley, "Come O Thou Traveler Unknown" (#386 in the United Methodist Hymnal

I'm in the midst of a wilderness experience. Some people would use the term "desert experience", but the meaning is the same: a period of time where you experience spiritual dryness. I tend to experience God most powerfully in community, so my wilderness experiences tend to occur around periods of transition. As a borderline introvert who can be painfully shy (I can fake it to a certain extent) yet who is very relationally-oriented, that period of time when I have lost one support system and am in the LONG process of building a new support system can be excruciatingly painful. It usually takes me about a year to really trust someone, and that's with consistent contact: it will take more if contact is inconsistent. 

One of the characteristics of the wilderness is that it forces us to depend on God in a way we never have before...it's not that God really leaves us, but God doesn't always manifest Himself in the usual ways, and we are forced to depend on God, and God alone, to provide for our needs. 

In Egypt, the Israelites may have not have been free and they may have endured cruelty, but they had never known any other life, and chances are excellent that they still had plentiful food. In order to get to the promised land, they had to go through the wilderness...where food and water were scarce. God provided what they needed, but they grumbled because it wasn't what they were used to...they were used to having easy access to food and drink, and in the wilderness they had to depend on God for nourishment.

In my case, there was obviously no slavery or cruelty, but I went from having an abundance of Christian community, regular opportunities to be a worshipper and experience preaching, and a strong support system...to a new ministry setting in a new community where I am the one preaching and leading worship every week and where I have to build a new support system. Because I am a pastor in a rural area, because I've been so busy (what with my family being constantly sick all winter and the 11 funerals and the move and transition), and because the vast majority of my emotional strength has been spent on my congregation and family (meaning that I just don't have it in me to initiate new friendships, and am having a hard enough time keeping the ones I already have)...I've had a challenge building a new support system.

It's sort of like going from an all-you-can-eat buffet 24 hours a day to a diet of bread and water, and having to hunt and gather if you want more than what is provided. And the thought of taking my bow and arrow and finding new friends has been...exhausting and overwhelming for most of the past year. 

I am depending on God more than I ever have...and am certainly seeing God ALL OVER THE PLACE...in the people of my churches, in what God is doing here, in my children, in their teachers, in my colleagues...I know without a doubt that this is where I am supposed to be and that God is here with me. I SEE God, I KNOW that God is with me...but I rarely FEEL God's presence. So many days, I feel completely and totally alone, like I'm wandering in a dark room without a flashlight. In some ways, it's surreal...because how can things be SO VERY GOOD and I be SO VERY BLESSED...yet still break down in tears multiple times in a week? 

It's painful...and it's frustrating...and yes, there have been many murmurings on my part. If I have acted like a whiny, selfish, immature brat...those are the wilderness murmurings, and I'm sorry. The Israelites complained because they were sick of manna and had nothing to eat or drink...I complain because no one loves me, no one wants me, no one returns my phone calls or text messages, everyone's too busy with their own perfect lives to listen to my sad tale of woe, my life is harder than anyone else's (please hear the irony and self-deprecation in those sentences)...whine whine murmur murmur. 

I know I am loved by God and by others...I know I do have friends who are praying for me and who are there for me, especially if I tried a little harder to connect with them...it just used to be so much EASIER, and now it's much harder...I have to hunt and gather instead of simply heading to the buffet. However, it's forcing me to rely on God for intimacy, for companionship, for guidance...and that is helping me to become the pastor, the wife, the mother, the follower of Jesus that God is calling me to be. 

What my murmurings mean, and what I think the Israelites meant, too, is, "God, I miss Egypt, but I know I can't go back there...I know I'm where I need to be...I know you'll get me to the Promised Land eventually...but in the meantime, I'm pretty scared and feeling lonely and uncertain of what the future holds...and I need your courage, your strength, your wisdom, and your comfort." 

Here's hoping and praying that I find the Promised Land at the end of this wilderness experience...and that when the time comes, my experience in the wilderness will have prepared me to boldly and courageously enter whatever future God has for me. 

And maybe my murmurs will begin to quiet down...if not, please be patient. This wilderness thing is tough. 

Before the Butterfly Comes the Cocoon

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us..."
Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

During a time of intense soul-searching this week, I had an epiphany. 

Eighteen months ago, I sat down with my then-District Superintendent and boldly told him, "send me to a church that is poised for transformation, but needs someone to lead them through it." It sounds cocky, but it's where I felt (and still feel) my calling and gifts lie...to bring hope and healing and new life to people and groups. 

When I met with the Pastor-Parish Relations Committee of my current appointment, I sensed that this was IT. As I got to know some of the leaders of both churches (particularly my larger church), I kept thinking, "this is it! This is the church I prayed for! This is the church I asked for!"

And it is. I have no doubt about that. None whatsoever. God has amazing things in store for this church. 

However, I made a mistake. That mistake was thinking that our ministry together was going to begin at the chrysalis...that point when the butterfly emerges, spreads its wings, and shows the world what it's made of. Another analogy is that I thought that our ministry together would begin at the entrance to the Promised Land; kicking butt in the name of God right and left as we harvested the milk and honey. 

If you know me well, you know that I am an incurable idealist who is also incredibly optimistic. "Tomorrow" from "Annie" is my favorite song. These traits can be very powerful gifts for a number of reasons, but they can also cause me to bite off WAY more than I can chew, not see reality until it pretty much punches me in the face, and become discouraged if these big dreams and high hopes don't materialize when they're "supposed to". 

All that being said, it makes sense that this weekend, I found myself sobbing on my husband's shoulder and telling him how I feel like an utter failure as a pastor/leader. After all, I've been here for almost a year, and a) worship attendance has remained the same, b) giving has remained the same, c) we are still behind on apportionments, and d) we have had no professions of faith. Externally, everything is the same. I feel like all I've done this year is preaching and funerals and pastoral care and getting to know people and transitioning my family and myself into this new life (and then there was the long fall/winter of sickness, including James and Susanna both having pneumonia while a hurricane raged outside). 

I had forgotten about the cocoon and the wilderness. The greatest transformation happens inside the cocoon, before the butterfly emerges. From the outside, it looks like nothing is happening. But amazing transformation IS happening...the world just can't see it yet. If the cocoon is forced open, the transformation is never completed.The Israelites had to have that long journey from Egypt to Israel, and then those 40 years in the dessert, in order to become the people that God was calling them to be.

At the right time, the transformation is complete, the cocoon breaks open, and the caterpillar emerges as a butterfly. 

At the right time (40 years; a Biblical number of completion), the Israelites ended their wilderness wanderings and entered the Promised Land, and did begin kicking butt right and left in the name of God as they entered the land of milk and honey. 

And at the right time...and it may very well be within this next year...although only God knows...we will emerge from our cocoon, from our own painful transformation...and the world will be able to witness what before only God and a few wise people could see. We'll see it, too...because I have learned for myself that in order for true transformation to occur, you have to first believe in yourself and be able to see you as God sees you. 

Transformation begins in the heart...and it begins internally...and only when that process is complete, do you begin to see fruit. I had forgotten about that. 

In the meantime...maybe God is calling me, and calling us, to remain in the cocoon a little longer, to be in the wilderness for a few more months, and to allow God to do some more internal renovation before the transformation is complete and before we enter the Promised Land.

Big Girl Panties? Check. Super Glue? Check. Tissues? Check.

John Stott, a renowned Christian pastor/teacher/author was once asked by someone, "How do you determine God's will for your life?" His answer? "Go wherever your gifts will be exploited the most."

My interpretation of that statement is that my true calling is found wherever my gifts are used to the fullest...that sacred place where my passions and my natural God-given talents are incredibly vulnerable,  I have to trust God and, as a friend of mine told me a year or so ago, "be bold, be brave, and be faithful"...and experience God doing amazing things.

That's easier said than done, mostly because it is freaking heartbreaking.

I was a hospital chaplain for almost four years, during my "sabbatical" from local church ministry. I loved it. I was good at it. I had the gifts to be a career chaplain.

However, I chose to become a pastor again because I realized that chaplaincy was not my true calling. In some ways, it was too easy: I usually would swoop into a room, offer 5-15 minutes of my presence, listening skills, words of comfort, and prayer. Then, I would leave, and most of the time, I would never see that person or that family again. In other ways, it was too frustrating. I would have a really good visit with someone, go fairly deep...and then the visit would end, they'd be discharged, and I would never have a chance to follow up with them or build a relationship.

Emotionally, it did not require much of me. My gifts (which include compassion and a personality that values relationships) were not being used to the fullest...I was not made vulnerable, and I just sensed that something was missing. I wanted more...God was calling me to be more...

So, I became a pastor again. After 11 months in my current appointment, I can say that HERE is where my true calling is...because HERE my gifts are most definitely exploited.

In the past eight months, I have had eleven deaths between my two churches. As I have grown closer to my people, each death and each funeral has required more and more of me on an emotional level...seeing people I love in pain, walking with someone through the "valley of the shadow of death", being that strong, calming, pastoral presence in the midst of grief, preaching a funeral sermon (that you hope and pray will do justice to and celebrate the life that someone lived and how God worked in and through them and that it will bless the family and bring glory to God), and in the midst of all that, dealing with my own feelings of grief and loss which, although they pale in comparison to those of the family and even those of many in the congregation, are very real and powerful.

In March, I laid to rest a beloved member of the church and community whom I had connected with, and would have liked to connect with more if she hadn't gotten sick and died. I cried (privately) when I left her room for what I knew would be the last time. I channeled my emotions into her funeral service, which I think was one of the best I've done so far. I was calm and I was strong...but I will confess that after the graveside service, instead of going immediately to the church for the reception, I drove to a safe spot and cried for a few minutes before pulling myself together and heading to the reception. It was painful and emotional...but it was also so incredibly honoring and fulfilling to be able to celebrate this woman's life. I would not have wanted anyone else to do it.

Death number 12 is coming in the near future, unless a miracle happens. He's been sick for a long time and this is not a surprise, but it will hit me harder...and is already hitting me harder...than all the others combined. I've had more time and opportunities to connect with this individual and his wife, they've blessed me a lot (probably without realizing it, and possibly more than I've blessed them), and their son is also a UM pastor who is in the clergy group I attend on a fairly regular basis. This member is a beloved member of the church, and his death will hit both my congregations fairly hard. I hate hate hate seeing people I love in pain/grief...and I am already sensing anticipatory grief from all angles. I sense it on Sunday morning, when we share prayer requests. I sense it when I visit their home. I sense it from my colleague/friend...and I'm definitely sensing it in myself, as I sit here crying and feeling ridiculous for being this emotional on behalf of people who I didn't even know a year ago, but who have wormed their way into my heart.

Where my open heart is...there my vulnerability lies, and where my passion and gifts can be best used by God.

So, I will put on my big girl panties, I will attach them with super glue if I need to, and I will keep a box of tissues handy for the next few weeks/months...and with fear, trembling, and a huge dose of faith and reliance on God, I will brave the pain, bare my heart, offer my relational compassion...and trust that God will exploit/utilize my gifts and offerings to God's glory...and that by God's grace I will be who I need to be for everyone involved.

It will be hard on so many levels...but it's what God is calling me to do and who God is calling me to be...and I wouldn't have it any other way.

However, I solicit your prayers that after this, we will have a break from funerals for a while. I'd like us to have a season of joy. My people deserve some joy.

Crawling Out of My Hole...

Hi there! (waves) It's been an interesting few months in the Money household. Actually, maybe I should back up a year or so...

As I've mentioned before, I planned to go back under appointment in July 2012. I met with the District Superintendent, I had an interview with some Annual Conference officials, I was approved to resume full-time ministry, and then I waited. I had asked for (and was praying for) an appointment within a reasonable distance so that I could commute from Chesapeake. I had VERY SPECIFIC ideas of what this appointment would look like. Last March, I received news that I was being appointed to a two-point charge (that means two churches sharing a pastor) on the Eastern Shore, in a lovely town called Cheriton, about 10 miles north of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel.  And for a variety of reasons, we would need to move into the parsonage and live in the community.

The churches sounded like a really good match for me, but we hadn't expected to ALL have to move, and...let's just say our minds were blown, and we had two days to pray and make a major decision about whether I/we would accept the appointment or turn it down.

We prayed. We cried. We consulted with wise and loving friends. We prayed some more.

And we took a huge leap of faith and accepted the appointment. I say "we", because while I'm the pastor, I would not and could not have accepted this appointment without James' agreement and support.

When I met the Pastor-Parish Relations Committee last April, I had a strong sense this was where God was calling me.

After my first month, as church members embraced me, my husband, my children, and even my DOG for who I am/who they are, I was certain that this was where God had called me to be.

Eight months in, and I am still amazed at how God was worked in and through this appointment to teach me about grace and trust and love and the transformation that can happen when we open our minds to the possibilities God has for us.

In other words, things are going well. So well it's kind of scary.

Susanna is in kindergarten at the local elementary school, Greg is attending preschool, and James is commuting ATB (Across the Bay) and just left Booz Allen to begin a new job. Simon is adjusting to being the "pastor's pooch" again.

We like the Eastern Shore (although I will confess to missing having three different grocery stores within 5 miles, and Target, and our friends), and are looking forward to this spring and summer, so we can further explore the beach, the town of Cape Charles, and some of the festivals that occur. And did I mention the FRESH SEAFOOD?

Life is good. Come visit. There's a fantastic place in Cape Charles that sells homemade ice cream. And cute shops in Cape Charles. And some good restaurants. And the BEACH.

Stay tuned for more reflective blog posts. I have discovered that I need an outlet to process my thoughts. Be prepared, for they are many.