A few weeks ago, I was at a Committee on Ministry meeting in which a candidate for one of the Associate Pastor positions in the Presbytery was being examined for ordination and membership. She wrote fabulously well about her call and her understanding of ministry, but she used a phrase about her pastoral leadership that left the non-clergy folks in the room scratching their heads. She said that she hoped to be a "non-anxious presence" in the congregation. This is one of the philosophies of ministry that has become deeply ingrained into teaching models for pastoral ministry, and yet for the lay person it still sounds like technical jargon.
I’m not sure I completely understand the concept myself - but I’ll explain it as best I can. Twenty years ago a rabbi named Edwin Friedman published a book called "Generation to Generation: Family Process in Church and Synagogue." In it he describes working with churches as something like working with families in a counseling situation, and goes on to say that the health and well-being of the congregation is quite related to how "low key" pastors can be in emotional situations. He describes the non-anxious presence and it’s benefits to clergy in this way, "...the capacity of members of the clergy to contain their own anxiety regarding congregational matters, both those not related to them, as well as those where they become the identified focus, may be the most significant capability in their arsenal. Not only can such capacity enable religious leaders to be more clear-headed about solutions..., a non-anxious presence will modify anxiety throughout the entire congregation." Well, that sounds like a pretty good deal. Have a pastor who doesn’t get very riled up about things, and perhaps the church will follow. The examples that Friedman uses to explain this kind of stance in a congregation are many, and in frequent cases, they seem to work. If the pastor remains playful, encouraging, trusting - then people in the congregation come along, or else leave when they aren’t getting away with the same old tricks that they were used to. But what if the pastor happens to be a human being? Personally, there are lots of times when my emotions are right there on my sleeve, or something has gotten on my last nerve, or I’ve just had a long day, and I’m ready for my evening glass of wine without any phone call interruptions. Perhaps the pastor, perhaps YOUR pastor has some anxiety about the budget, or about the recent deaths of church members, or about getting her shopping done before Christmas arrives. In most cases, the pastors that I’ve known are people, and as people, they have the same anxiety meters as everyone else that I know. Yes, I know from my days at seminary that it really is best if the pastor stays calm, but sometimes I need that space where I can say to God - where have you been? Where’s the good news for the oppressed? The encouragement for the brokenhearted? Are you ever going to claim the captives’ liberty and the prisoners’ release in any real kind of way? Even here in real time, in a real church - we’d like a year of the Lord’s favor please, and could you hurry up with that? A few weeks ago, when Vicki started crunching the pledge numbers, as usual, I was one big quivering ball of anxiety. I’m happy to acknowledge and preach that we need a great deal of resources to keep our church actively involved in ministry, but I’m a basket-case when at first it looks like we’re $90,000 behind, and I still know that it means big cuts when we’re at $50,000 behind, and now I’m glad to know that we’ve closed the gap to $30,000, but I’ve been sweating this out for weeks. When I first called a clergy colleague to tell her about my concerns when the shortfall seemed up in the stratosphere, she said, "Remember to be a non-anxious presence." But all I could say was, " Yeah right. How can I be? I don’t think I can hide that I’m stressed out about this." I’m telling you this, not necessarily to make any points about getting pledges in earlier to soothe my anxiety in early December, but to tell you, like I tried to tell myself last week that God may not come exactly when we want - but God always comes through. There are things that make me anxious enough to almost lose it. There are times when I want to yell and scream my head off. You may or may not see those times. There is something to be said about having a pastor who can maintain some objectivity and decorum in difficult situations. However, if I ever meet a person capable of being non-anxious all the time, I’m going to ask for lessons! Anxiety is way too much a part of my nature. The good news is that there are good ways of reducing anxiety these days - therapy, drugs, and the like. But there have always been ways to shed that worry-wart way of being and find a more pleasant sort of existence. "Examine the lilies," Jesus says, and seeing how beautiful they are without wondering about their new outfit or bad hair day might make us think twice about what makes us stress out. But I especially like Paul’s advice, "Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." God doesn’t want us to be the proverbial "stress puppies" that many of us have become, or will become in these final weeks before Christmas. God wants us to celebrate, pray, and give thanks. The stewardship season example is such a good one for me because I know very well that during this part of our budgetary cycle I stress first and pray later. I find it hard to rejoice when I’m wondering if God will provide the resources to meet our needs. I wait until the end result to give thanks when the will of God, Paul reminds us, is to give thanks in ALL circumstances. I get it backwards. It makes me anxious, and I wonder if my Pastoral Care professors would be shocked at my being truly this incapable of doing what Friedman says is the most significant capability in the whole pastor’s arsenal. Perhaps that Friedman calls it an arsenal ought to be a concern in and of itself. I hope that the things I learned at seminary aren’t always thought of as weapons to keep the congregation in line. But relationships are key. It helps to have friends who can say, calm down, God is working things out. It helps to have colleagues who can commiserate in the in-between times. It helps to have an understanding family when ‘tis the season for anxieties to run high if we’re late getting the Christmas tree decorated. I like Paul’s advice better than Friedman’s, for it speaks to the whole church even though it includes those dreadfully anxious pastor-types. It’s addressed to all the brothers and sisters in this fledgling Christian community, and yet it says to respect everybody who carries some sort of leadership role, and the big encouragement is to be at peace. In community we, together, should be about the work of admonishing idlers, encouraging the fainthearted, helping the weak, and being patient with all. It says do good to each other, and don’t repay evil by doing evil. You know, don’t kick the dog when you’re mad at me, but then again, please don’t kick me either! And when we rejoice, give thanks and pray, we are doing the will of God. So don’t suppress the Spirit! I need that advice. When I get anxious, I know it is only harder and harder to see the Spirit at work. We grumble, God won’t do that here. We don’t have the faithful to make our budget, or we don’t have the volunteers to pull of this ministry. It becomes very self defeating if our answer is no more so than yes. In the very beginning of this budget process, an elder faithfully and eloquently spoke in our meeting and said, "We should be thanking God now for giving this budget to us." My heart agreed, but my head hesitated the whole way. I knew that it was right to expect great things from God, but when people are involved, I sometimes wonder. I wonder about my own abilities to allow God’s Spirit to move as broadly and freely as God’s Spirit is want to move. And I question my gifts as a pastor, will I do a good job at fundraising? Will I be able to help the Session make good decisions, or will they have to do it in spite of me? It really doesn’t matter. God is on the move. Rejoice, give thanks, and pray. Amen. I thank you for your faithfulness. I ask for your forgiveness for times I have doubted and been afraid. I am delighted to be learning from you and with you about what it means to really trust God. Let the Spirit move, and hang on for the ride. Remember, anxiety has two sides: the side that makes us fearful and stops us in our tracks, and the side that excites us to new things and motivates us in God’s direction. So I hope that we’ll continue to work together, anxious or non- anxious for God’s purposes in this place. Let us pray....
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