The next tropical storm barreling up from the Baja is scheduled to hit here early tomorrow, bringing up to an inch of rain. We're way ahead of the average for this time of year and they say that has almost mitigated the years-long drought we've experienced.
It's still the desert.
Brown interrupted by the dull green of cactus.
If you live in a place where leaves turn color and fall to the ground, enjoy it. At least the first part of it. The raking isn't so much fun, and the white that comes after the raking pretty much stinks.
The last time I did card #6 I could feel it the next day. This time I felt like road kill.
Speaking of, Little Bunny Foo-Foo didn't make it across our street. When I came home at lunchtime two turkey vultures (?) were circling about 50' above the carcass. Based on the small ball of fur I saw on my way to the gym they also ate lunch.
You wanna know the hardest part of my job?
You wanna know why I restore old cars and trucks?
Well I'm going to tell you anyway, and the answer turns out to be the same.
This morning I sat at Starbucks working on Sunday's sermon and reading through some stuff for my adult class. I worked on the sermon more this afternoon, and it will get a significant chunk of each day between now and Sunday morning. At that point I'll spend about 35 minutes preaching the thing, it will be done, and I'll start on the next one. Same for the lesson I'll teach second hour.
Repeat.
Forty eight weeks each year.
At the end of the year I look back and see....
I work on old vehicles, and before that restored old houses, and before that rode centuries, and before that ran marathons, so at the end of the day, or week, or year, I can point to something and say, "See that? I did that."
I can't speak for other pastors, but I suspect a lot of them would say the lack of any concrete results is the hardest part of their job.
I saw an ad on TV last night for the Cancer Centers of America that said one of the things that makes them better is "evidence based treatment." I don't know exactly what that means, but I assume it's something like, "We look at outcomes and chose treatments that actually work." I doubt this sets them apart from any other medical facility. I find it hard to picture a hospital that ignores whether their patients live or die as a result of the treatment they receive.
Pastors can't do evidenced based ministry, unless increased numbers are the measure of effectiveness. (And if they are we might as well skip right to the scantily clad soloist and grand prize give-aways.) The nature of our job is that we work with internals, the unseen part of people. Kids get taller and learn, we hope, not to throw their food across the room. Parishioners learn, we hope, to live more godly, compassionate, and sacrificial lives, all stuff their preachers rarely, if ever, get to see. (But try hard to believe is actually happening.)
Today I primed the half dozen or so parts I media blasted yesterday. I went to the gym and jumped rope, did sit-ups, push-ups, pull-ups, and a few other things that left me exhausted. (No burpees!) And I wrote a blog post. Each of those involved effort and showed concrete results, even if it was little more than a sweat-soaked T-shirt and virtual words on a virtual page.
I love my job, and the people are the best part. But under the influence of truth serum every pastor would tell you part of him secretly envies the guy who stands at the machine Monday through Friday poking a button, making widgets. He's at least got a pile of widgets at the end of the day. And if he pokes that button faster tomorrow he'll have more widgets in that basket.
Pastors don't have a button they can poke faster or a pile of widgets to count, so we wonder if the effort we put in makes any difference. "It does, it does," they say. And I don't mean to discount their assurances. I just have nothing to point to, or touch.
So early tomorrow morning I'll be out in the garage prepping the truck's body parts for primer.
1 comment:
As a pastor of the body of Christ, you have the chance to sow many seeds at a specific given time. As a member of the body of Christ, I have the chance to sow one or several seeds as the opportunity presents itself. In either case, we rarely see what happens to those seeds. In the end, we are the tools that God uses to sow those seeds so He can say: "See that? I did that!" As sowers, we hope to hear: "Well done good and faithful servant!"
I will always remember that you planted the seed that contained the true message of grace (not saved by works) to me and my wife. Because you did that, God was able to do the rest! Thanks!
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