A Favor To Ask

I have a favor to ask. I'll try to be brief.

As you know, I am re-reading 15 years of old journals this summer vacation. (I am also spending a great deal of time on the water, casting my tiny little flies at chunky browns and hot-blooded rainbows – the fish are in fine form this year; yellow PMDs and small black caddis are coming off in droves; the Bighorn is fishing as well as I’ve ever seen it.)

My reading so far has proven interesting and enlightening, but not as painful as I expected. It is curious how our memories rewrite our histories, enlarging on some aspects until in our mind’s eye, that was the only thing that happened back then, while minimizing or erasing others – I’d forgotten about that hard conversation in Sean Kelly's, or about hurriedly (re)varnishing the boat before that trip to the Beaverhead with Malachi.

This is where journals and old photos prove helpful: they resurrect old memories, bringing them back to life to be re-handled and re-evaluated.

But reading is slow (especially when there are fish to catch). I am still only through the summer of 2011 - that was the August we recorded our first album in Norman Maclean’s father’s old church in Missoula.

I was full of high hopes back then, but also a growing sense of urgency, at where All Souls needed to get to in order to make it. I am sure I will have thoughts to share on all this at some point in the future. But there’s a lot more reading (and thinking) to be done first. And the hardest parts of our Story are still to come…

So, here’s why I’m writing now:

As I read these old journals, I find myself encountering all these old names – people who were part of our daily lives back then, people who meant a lot to us at the time, but many of whom we haven’t thought about or spoken to in years.

They moved on. We did too. Life just seems to work that way.

I find it curious how many of these old names are blanks to me now: I have little recollection of who some of these people were; I struggle to recall their faces or their stories. I suppose that shouldn't be surprising, giving the sheer numbers of people Marilyn and I have met and connected with over the past thirty-plus years. That’s what happens when you are in ministry – people drift in and out of churches, and as a pastor, you’re often the person best positioned to see all their comings and goings.

You don't just learn their names, either. You also learn their stories.

As a pastor, I garner a particularly privileged view into the lives of others – they share their deepest struggles; I try to share my life in return, showing how the biblical Jesus can make a difference. Some of what I offer will land, it will be received, but much will not. And some of these people whom I desperately want to help will experience breakthroughs, but many will not.

So they move along, out of our lives, often after just weeks or months. And as pastors, we move along too, needing to focus on the flock in front of us. It's not surprising some of these old names are blanks to me now.

There are many more whose faces and stories I still vividly recall; we may not have spoken in years – I may not even think of them all that frequently – nevertheless, they play major parts in my memory’s recollections of my past.

I still (at least occasionally) see their posts on social media; I have at least a vague notion of where they're at and what they're up to. I keep their contact info in my phone. If they call, I will pick up. It they make it to Austin, I try hard to reconnect.

I suspect many of you my readers fall into this category: old friends, in spite of all the years and miles. And that brings us nearer to the purpose of this post.

Something curious happens in ministry.

As a pastor, you meet all these people who are brimming with promise and potential… some are spiritual seekers, asking big questions about their place in this world; others are wounded, wondering how to recover from failed relationships or wrongs received; or perhaps they have discovered the emptiness of “success” (in sports, career, money, etc.) and now they’re looking for alternatives.

Whatever case, you watch these people engage – they begin to wrestle with the futility of all this world has to offer (think Ecclesiastes!), while simultaneously beginning to discover the great claims of Jesus and the great history of the Christian faith; they pay attention, they ask great questions, they often immerse themselves deeply into the church… I think of all the non-Christians (or the not-sure-if-they’re-Christians) who have walked through the doors of All Souls (both iterations), how their seeking has often been a source of spiritual vibrancy for the church, how their epiphanies and progress is an encouragement to all.

As a pastor, it is difficult not to be encouraged by and hopeful for people like these; I know how Jesus has transformed my life – I can see how they are putting themselves on a path for an encounter that might very well end up transforming their lives too. The New Testament is full of stories about these kinds of people finding a whole new kind of life. Hurrah!

At the same time, we pastors also meet many people who are simply brimming with wreck and ruin… some of them struggle with addictions (both psychological and physical); some of them are on the verge of suicide or emotional breakdowns; others are ready to give up on a relationship they probably ought to stick with (or in a relationship they really ought to get out of). Many are simply ambivalent about the gospel – they are in the church for other reasons; they are on spiritual cruise control, so to speak. (The Gospels are rife with teachings of Jesus that suggest that apathy, ambivalence, and pride are actually the greatest of spiritual dangers.)

As a pastor, it is difficult not to be discouraged by and pessimistic about people like these; I know how destructive these forces can be in peoples’ lives – I’ve watched it play out over and over again; left unchecked, the outcome is never good. Jesus explicitly states that there is a path (broad, wide, and easy) that leads to our destruction (Matthew 7:13-14). Ouch.

So, here I am, re-reading these old journals, remembering people from both of these categories. And as I’m reading and thinking, I sometimes reach out via email or text just to say: “Hey, I found you in my notes! I hope you are well…”

Several folks have written back.

Here's the part that strikes me as curious.

There were some folks for whom it was difficult to be optimistic – they were wrestling with addiction, they seemed to make so little progress, in spite of all the ways we tried to help… Yet spiritually, some of these people are actually doing well now; they’ve made progress over the years; they’ve experienced real and substantial change, in spite of all the odds. Somehow, these people that I might have felt pessimistic about have actually managed to lay hold of Jesus and faith in a way that I (now) find both astonishing and deeply encouraging!

At the same time, there are others for whom it was easy to be optimistic – they seemed to be "all in" spiritually; they seemed mature to us, or at least trending in the right direction; they were people we who seemed to be flourishing… Yet some of those folks have withered spiritually; some no longer value connection with a Christian church; some have given up any pretense of following the biblical Jesus. I suspect that a number of folks who professed faith in Missoula might fall into this category (I’m not sure if any of you are still reading, but I hope so!).

This second group includes a surprising number of people whose futures (from our perspective back then) seemed so spiritually promising at the time.

So what happened? That’s what I’d like to know from you.

Here's the favor I’d like to ask:

If you see yourself as someone from the first camp (someone who has found your faith in Jesus getting stronger over these past 15-20 years, someone who has actually experienced progress with your brokenness)… I’d love to hear about it from you.

But the same is true from those in the second camp (someone who felt spiritually stronger 15-20 years ago, but who has found your faith in Jesus diminishing, your questions and doubts increasing, your connection with a Christian church waning or even evaporating)… I’d like to hear from you as well.

Specifically, what I’d like to hear (from both camps):

For those who have experienced spiritual progress… What has proven most helpful to you in your journey over the past decade(s)? More specifically, what did we do at All Souls (or in any other church you’ve been in) that aided, assisted, helped propel you forward spiritually?

For those who have experienced spiritual regression… What has moved you away from Jesus, or his church, or from the spiritual commitments (or seeking / exploring) that characterized your life at an earlier point? More specifically again, what did we do at All Souls (or in any other church you’ve been in) that hindered, hurt, or set you back spiritually?

I ask these questions because I’d genuinely like to know. Because as I sit here reading these old journals, I see someone (my younger self) genuinely trying to be helpful. But I see remarkably little rhyme or reason as to the fruits. And I would love to do better. (Those of you who weren’t in All Souls are welcome to answer these same questions for whatever churches you experienced them in.)

So I’d like to hear from you, as much or as little as you’d like to share. Full disclosure: I’m not trying to reestablish old connections (if long distance relationships are difficult, long distance pastoring is almost impossible); also, I’ve no intention of trying to “fix” or “dissuade” anyone from wherever you have landed (I still believe God’s got to change our hearts).

So really, I’m just curious about your perspectives – what has been helpful, or hurtful in your Christian journey – so that I can think about our little house church in Austin can try to be helpful, not hurtful, to the people we are serving there.

Lot’s more reading to do. And lot’s more fishing too.

I look forward to hearing from those of you who feel inclined to reply…