A friend of mine commented on Facebook that the difference between what he thought in seminary he would spend his time and energy on, and what he have actually spent them on, is enormous.
I went to seminary with no clear sense of where I would end up. I just got blocked whenever I tried to avoid training for ministry, so I went out of a sense of trust in my sense of vocation, although it was scary and painful to do that. I had a strong self-identity as a teacher and actress, and being pulled into a new way of being known in the world was something I did by stumbling, not by sure climbing. I had no idea what was happening to me, and I did experience it as something happening to me. The idea of working as a parish minister was entirely bizarre, as I had NO idea what minsters did and they seemed exotic and entirely other than what I was about. If anything, I saw them as nice people who at in a a lot of meetings patiently enduring and enabling a lot of useless busywork.
What did I think I would be spending my time and energy on? What does a deer in headlights know of pre-conceived notions? In the end, what I spend my time and energy on are actually WAY WAY WAY more meaningful, deep, interesting, challenging, scary, mystical, and extraordinary than anything I could have possibly imagined when I was in seminary. I find it so sad to think that many of my colleagues had the opposite experience.
How about you, pigeons? Newbies, old hands at this work, wherever your ministry setting, whatever your seminary preparation (or theological or divinity school)? Was it what you expected?
I have days lately when I sit with piles of books by my side, reading and marking them up and staring at the wall thinking about them and taking notes and I get sort of panicky thinking, “I can’t keep up with the current thinking on anything. My learning is twenty years old now.” And then I remember that I get study leave every year, per my Letter of Agreement, and that it is part of my actual paid job to keep learning. For someone like me, for whom learning is the meaning of life, it’s just gleeful to remember that. Scary but gleeful.
I also heard this fascinating thing recently: a social media consultant and apparently active churchwoman named Meredith Gould (@MeredithGould) tweeted that she no longer tries to separate her work from her life. She tweeted that she was an “integrated being, with an integrated life.” This made me feel very “Halleluljah, someone said it!” in my solar plexus, but I wanted to explore the idea with colleagues. What do you think? It certainly goes against everything we were trained to think!! My first reaction is to completely agree with her but I have to pray on it more. I wish I could find a spiritual director in my new community. I sure do crave that time carved out for intentional prayer and reflection…
Thanks for doing some of this with me. Kiss of peace, PB
I chose a denominational seminary over a divinity school education. The first year was a pretty rough battle in the expectations vs. reality category especially around academics. However, I realized somewhere in my second year that the value of seminary was that it made me get out of my head and put some heart in my ministry. I can always pick up a book and read up on the latest debates, I won’t always have the luxury of making so many connections with people excited about doing ministry with as many gifts to offer ministry as there are people offering them.
I went to seminary the idea that I might write Christian Education materials or do some sort of bi-lingual work in the judicatory (I was an English Literature/Spanish major in college). I was terrified of the thought of preaching and never thought of myself as a pastor.
When I finally realized that I was indeed called to pastoral ministry — well, I’m not sure how I thought my days would be spent. I just remember that, very early on, I read or heard that pastoral ministry is about the interruptions. The day to day fillers have changed over the years. So making sure the visuals on the chancel are appropriate and supportive of worship and picking hymns (who knew THAT could take so long?) were not things I thought about in those days. I thought my work would be more definable — there are days when I’ve been doing “ministry stuff” all day, but find it hard to describe exactly what I’ve done.
Electronic information and relationships were unknown when I began in ministry — they consume a whole lot more time than they should. So I’m going now!
I like the quote, too, but I’m not sure it’s as easy as agreeing or disagreeing without defining what’s meant by integrated living. So many pastors have a hard time with boundaries and either feel an outsized sense of personal importance regarding our ministry or guilt over loving and engaging in anything that’s not in some way traceable back to ministry. Someone like that may take this to mean we are supposed to be working/ on the clock/ accountable all the time. What I hope she means and what I am trying to do is to understand my call to ministry as one call on my life, one that often takes priority over other things and sometimes other calls. But no matter the importance of that call or the ensuing responsibilities, beneath all of that is my original and abiding status as a child of God. Because of this — and because this is true for everyone — I don’t need to apologize/justify “the rest” of my life, those not-traceable-back-to-ministry things. I am allowed and encouraged to be a whole complicated multi-talented, multi-interested person and living an all work life (no matter how set apart the work and no matter how much it feeds me) is to refute my most basic relationship with God.
I finally realized that my church was at the absolute center of my life when everything else was constantly changing: marital status, homes, jobs, relationships, identity issues. It was as though I was surrounded by a whirling mass of STUFF, while my church was at the calm center of it all. I thought “Why not *make* the church the center of it all, instead of trying to fit it in around the edges of this crazy whirling mass?” So I went to seminary, not sure if I wanted to be a minister, but YES sure that the church was where it’s at for me.
Having worked in small businesses and non-profits before seminary, I wasn’t at all surprised at how my time was spent in ministry. I’m grateful that my previous life prepared me quite well for a life in ministry, so it all feels integrated.
Dropping in to say/write that becoming what I characterize as an “integrated being” was a process, not an event. By the time I reached (hit?) my 50s, I realized just how much I had scattered shards of self all over the place. Painful.
And it wasn’t like I was being flexible or adapting to different circumstances, I had truly split off this-n-that. I’d compartmentalized what I felt deeply called to do and further split that from who I believe God was calling me to be. The integration of work and (the rest of) life happened when I realized that whatever was not serving to integrate identity needed to be ditched.
This is an ongoing process. Basically, I examine the spiritual value of everything I do by asking, “Will this enhance my relationship with God or will this distract me from my relationship with God?” I’ve discovered that remembering to do this is in itself a spiritual practice. [How nice of you to drop by, Meredith! Thanks for writing! – PB]