All I Ever Wanted.
Mood: *shrugs*
Music: All I Ever Wanted (and the reprise) (two links, one on each half) from the Prince of Egypt soundtrack.
If I wanted to describe my religious convictions to you, I’m not sure I could. I’d just point you to a couple of movies, and let you draw your own conclusions. One movie would be Fallen, with Denzel Washington. I’m not really feeling like talking about that one today.
Now the Prince of Egypt. That I want to talk about. I don’t have any delusions about being anyone’s deliver. I don’t have any real belief that I’ll deal with world leaders, or famous people of any kind. I don’t believe that people will look to me in a thousand years as a profound moral teacher. But let me tell you what I know. I know what it feels like to have God call you to do something, something you didn’t plan to when you’d really rather be doing something else. Let me tell you about it.
When I became a Christian at 14, I had a plan. I wanted to be a chemist. That’s what I wanted. I wanted a house and a family and a car, and ski trips once a year. You can think what you want about that, it’s your prerogative. But it’s what I wanted. I grew up in a fairly affluent midwestern town, and that didn’t seem like it was out of the realm of the possible. Through the work that got done on me as I studied my Bible, I learned very quickly that I wasn’t going to be able to keep to myself in terms of my work, and that the self-involved little dream I had conceived wasn’t going to be possible. So I changed my plan, and decided that I’d try to help out in an obtrusive way by becoming a teacher. I’d be able to encourage people to think for themselves, and think about why they think the way they do. It was my only goal. Just get people thinking. At 17, I had a series of experiences that made it clear to me that I needed to be a little bit more involved than that, namely, that I was going to be a pastor.
It wrecked me.
Everything I’d known about who I was and what I wanted to do went out the window. At 17. Most people have to wait until their midlife crisis to discover they chased the wrong stuff. I didn’t have that luxury. (Or, if you prefer, I was blessed to learn early, to save myself the trouble.) But I fought with God, like Jacob, I wrestled Him. I begged Him to find someone else. It was the last thing I wanted. I couldn’t figure out why in the world God would pick someone like me, who had no pedigree for that kind of thing. You think about the people you know who are pastors…they are people who come from families that have a long history of that kind of thing. They are third and fourth generation church families. I’ve got a family history one side. The other side is typical Wisconsin lineage…hard working, hard drinking, fun loving, stubborn, loyal folks. There are people who are better prepared for what I’ve been asked to do than I am. (And that’s not a bash on my family, it’s about who you expect God would pick.)
And that’s not even touching the issue of what people thought when I told them what I now had to do. In some ways, I don’t think my dad has ever reconciled himself to the fact, honestly. And why should he? He didn’t expect it any more than I did. There were expectations on me, and also, on him. Growing up, I always felt like the singled out kid…the one people expected something special from. Being a pastor and being insulted for trying to help people for my entire life didn’t fit that criteria. And the conflict started. You start going places, and people ask you things they didn’t last week. People start expecting you’re going to have God’s answer for every problem or issue they’ve ever had. Last week, you were a high school senior with no clue. Now you’re a spiritual beacon? Please. You go to a family wedding, and now a second cousin you haven’t talked to in five years is asking you to bless the food at the reception. I know. Let’s hang out a “let’s look at the pastor-wannabe” sign. Ask someone who is actually doing the job to do it. In their defense, I didn’t help my cause. I looked down my nose at my relatives for a long time, like they were heathens. I’m sure that didn’t help the cause. They’d always known me, my family, where I come from. I wasn’t fooling them.
And it touched something else too, which I’ve already clarified. Finding a wife is tough enough. Finding a wife when you want to be a pastor, isn’t easy either. Suddenly, you have to look at people differently. You’re not just deciding if you like them. You’re trying to think about how it will effect your ministry, because that is important too. The whole set of rules change. You go to your friends, and you’re trying to explain to them this new issue you’re facing, and all they can tell you are how excited they are for what God is “going to do through you.” You explain to them why you’re concerned, and all you get for answers are things like, “Don’t worry about it, God will work it out,” or “Don’t make this blessing from God a curse.” To quote one of my favorite lines from a song from one of my favorite bands (Caedmon’s Call), “Maybe I have the gift that everyone speaks so highly of…funny how nobody wants it.” It’s like the Midas touch. Sure, it’s great, everything you touch turns to gold. But suddenly, you’re a man on an island. Luckily, I found some really godly pastors who were happy to help how they could. But it’s not the same as having peers who know your concerns. You walk into a room of people who last week were more than happy to include you, and all of a sudden you’re a Jesus-freak. Nothing has changed except what you’re going to do for your job. My faith wasn’t ever really an issue until I said out loud that I wanted to be a pastor. Then the room emptied.
At any rate, I tell all of you that to tell all of you this:
I don’t know what you all imagine I’m like or how I got to where I am…Seminary, learning how to be a pastor, but know one thing–this is never what I wanted. I do it because I believe in God, and because I know this is what I was made to do. But it probably wouldn’t be what I would have chosen. I didn’t come from the womb spouting Scripture. I didn’t get forcefed my faith. I’ve never had the silver spoon in my mouth. I haven’t wanted for much, but I also haven’t been given what the stereotypical suburban kid has either. My parents (bless them for this) sent me to work if I wanted something. And I appreciate it. Don’t believe that I’ve had life handed to me. And don’t think I’m ignorant how money effects different people. Please don’t pretend (unless you’ve know me) that you know about ho