The Greatest Ministry You Or I Will Ever Do Is…

I’ve been in ministry for over a decade a now, and I’ve seen quite a bit; From border-crashing in Central Asia to performing with a live band in front of 40,000 as a missionary, from seminary studies in the edenic Vancouver to monastic living among the quiet woods & mountains of the Pacific NW, from pastoral ministry amongst the suburban poor, to the glamors of church planting amongst “postmodern” trendsetters in hipster cafes, I have repeatedly found the greatest ministry I will ever do is amongst those who will give me no accolades, will not “grow” my church as the formula goes, will not advance my scheme, my agenda or my empire, and yet will give me Everything in return:

I facilitated what I consider “art therapy” (I’m not professionally licensed) among the handicapped / autistic community of my church. I focused on colors with warmth, to get us in touch with the nurturing dimensions, even capturing some of that “placenta” affect;

The response? Great success! There was good engagement and the tactile learning experience of pushing paint around on a canvas was placating, and I will even go so far as to say, a “spiritual experience” for all of us. Perhaps I will post the finished product soon, which I hope to display prominently at church…

So, in light of these thoughts, I’m re-posting the following which was written several years ago – thoughts on the same theme of what is “true ministry”:

One thing that always makes me smile is when I hear church planters talk of what kind of people they will gather together in their new churches. “We plan on gathering the hip, urban trendsters who have turned their back on the church”. One proposal I read listed Subaru owners and indie rockers. I can’t help but smirk because I relate to this. You want to gather the “cool” folk. It’s so what we want and it’s actually so off-target. Reminds me of a line from one of my fav movies, Tombstone:

Doc: What did you want?

Wyatt: Just to live a normal life.

Doc: There’s no normal life, Wyatt. There’s just life.

Likewise we hope to gather the “normal” people without issues, dirt under the fingernails, psychological problems, you know, normal, hip, young trendsters like us. But there are no “normal” people. And for that matter, there are no “cool” people. There’s just people. Somehow in our desire to go to the poor we look for the exotic, when in fact there’s a need to pastor such common folk right in front of us. Like:

trailer owners

Wal Mart shoppers

middle America

Nascar fans

country folk

rural dwellers

the elderly

So oft missed is this last demographic. The post modern pastor almost never looks @ the elderly or the shut-ins probably because they have nothign to give back to us, can’t contribute to the growth of the church, or for that matter to the offering. But that is why they are so necessary. Because no one visits them in this age of retirement and disability homes. We commit them, the white coats take care of them and we wipe our hands clean. There’s something anti-church in that. So thank you to Pastor Jay in the pic above for pushing me into the door of the local Rehab facility. The smells, and the undecipherable speech, and the oddities eventually won me ever. Some of the most precious ministry happens at the retirement center.

Maybe I’ll Plant Again

Still fresh from licking my wounds after closing down missio (interestingly the last few posts have been about church planting) I find myself actually open again to the idea of planting again someday. Mind you, I would never ever plant again the way we did it before. Not to discredit our work and those who’ve travailed with us – not a second was wasted nor regretted in my view. But this baby’s got some mileage and if I’m ever gonna do it again, the process has to be a lot more efficient, more streamlined and success has got to be guaranteed. Because failure is just WAY too costly, and I’m not alone in testifying to that. Failure’s great – it teaches you things – but yeah – you’re not smart if you like to make the same mistakes over and over again. Continue reading “Maybe I’ll Plant Again”