Old Dog, New Tricks

Dr. Ed Tomlinson is one of the smartest people I know. He is a United Methodist pastor who served a variety of churches in North Georgia and also served as a District Superintendent and the Assistant to the Bishop. As such, the man knows life and he knows church.

Ed called me several months ago after I shared that my beloved had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's. He offered me sympathy and support, comfort and concern, and then he shared a little tidbit of wisdom. Most churches, he said, love to care for their pastors when they or their families go through difficult times. "You've got a good church down there in Fort Valley, Herb," he said. "They love you and Regina and they're going to want to show you that love. But you have to let them."

As I shared in a previous blog, we're in this wonderful season where Regina is responding extremely well to medications, speech therapy, and cognitive training exercises. Obviously, we don't know what may be on the horizon, but it's reasonable to assume that her mind is as strong now as it ever will be again. She's let me know that she loves our church and wants to stay active in it and she wants me to remain in pastoral ministry. That's one part of the equation, for sure. There's another side as well.

So, I asked her how she wanted to use these best days. And she gave me an immediate answer.

"Our children and grandchildren."

I spent a few days cogitating and meditating on all that. How do I honor desires that may sometimes be in conflict with each other? We can only be in one place at a time and there's only so much time in a day. Our sons and their families are each more than an hour and a half from us. They have schedules and responsibilities that are not always in sync with the rhythm of the life of a pastor. To wit, weekends - Sundays especially - are my high demand times but their work is more during the week. And they have their own churches they attend.

Ed's words kept rolling around in my mind - They want to help. They want to love you.

So, I presented an idea to our church's staff parish committee (they're the personnel committee for Methodist congregations). Essentially, I asked if I could change my workload in order to remain in the pulpit most of the time but to allow us the flexibility to be away some more than we currently are. They listened and then asked me to leave so they could flesh out particulars.

A few minutes later, Jenny Absher, the Chair of that committee, told me that she'd talk later to me about the details, but she said they certainly want to work with me. In fact, they had more ideas than what I'd presented. She shared two of them with me.

First, she said that they wanted me to feel free to not feel like I have to write an article for every single Sunday's bulletins. "That's over 50 per year," she said. "And we appreciate it, but we want you to know we don't expect that every single week."

I immediately put up an argument. "But I love writing!" I said. "And it's not really a big problem for me."

She nodded and asked me to at least consider it. Then she told me their next idea - they wanted to relieve me of locking and unlocking the church every Sunday. "You're often the first person here and Regina rides with other folks to church," she said. "And there are plenty of people who could unlock this place and make sure it's locked back."

You know what happened, don't you?

"But I like getting here early!" I said. "I've always done that for 40 years of ministry. It's no big deal."

Scott Morrill, our church's Lay Leader, walked up. Jenny told him that she was sharing some of their ideas with me. And then she said this:

"It's like we were saying in the meeting. The problem is going to be getting him to go along with it."

She said it with a smile. But I had to go home and look in the mirror. Here's what I saw looking back at me.

1. Pride. Our Catholic friends speak of Seven Deadly Sins and pride, many contend, is the first and the root cause of the other six. Yes, I like getting to the church first. I like the quietness and having the chance to make sure things are in order. But I also like knowing that other people know that I get there early. I like their approval. I like that they think I work hard. Same goes for my writing. I like that I'm doing something that they think is challenging and takes effort. Pride, pride, pride, in spades.

2. Stubborn. I don't like change. I make my Sunday morning coffee and drink it in the quiet on the glass porch before taking my shower. Then I take an Inspiration Ride out in the country. Then I get to the church and check things out. It's my way and I don't want to change. It's worked for 40 years. It'll work for 40 more. Stubborn. Muleheaded.

3. Controlling. Let me do it my way. I can handle it. I don't need your help. You probably won't do it right, or at least you won't do it the way I think you should do it. Controlling is born of pride and gives birth to stubborn. Yep, I can be a good-natured control freak.

4. Fear. It's not just that I don't like change, it's that I don't like what change represents. It means that I'm losing control. It means I have to face my limits and I have to come to grips with my mortality and, even worse, my beloved's mortality. We are entering the twilight of our years and, honestly, it scares me a bit to imagine what may lie in store. Yes, I live in the assurance that we're held in the palm of God's hand and I'm certain of eternity with Christ, but the getting there is a might daunting, if I'm honest. I don't like being afraid and I downright hate having to admit that I am.

There was something more that I had to face. Jenny and Scott are young enough to be my children. Sunday afternoon, I kept picturing their faces, full of concern and care and grace, but also with a little smidgeon of exasperation. Here I was, the older generation, ignoring them and pushing them to the side so I could live my life and do my ministry the way I wanted to. Period.

It hit me hard. That's not who and what I want to be. I don't want to be that way at church. I don't want to be that way with my family. I really, truly want to embrace the future with faith, hope, and courage and I want to listen, really listen, to those who are coming behind me and who bear the burden of caring for me.

I don't ever again want anyone to even think for a minute that I might be the problem standing in the way of a solution. Even if the solution is tough for me. Even if it requires me to change. Even if it means I have to face my fears, or give up control, or stop being so dadblamed hardheaded. Even if I have to let go of just a tiny little bit of my pride. Or maybe a whole lot of it.

So, I texted Jenny and Scott on Monday afternoon and told them I was ready to embrace the next steps in our journey together. This old dog, I said, was ready to learn some new tricks.

Which brings me full circle to Ed Tomlinson and what he had to say so many months ago:

"They love you and Regina and they're going to want to show you that love.

But you have to let them."

Sounds like the man knows churches really well. And he also knows me. I told you he was smart. Real smart.