A noticeable theme in Winn Collier’s biography of Eugene Peterson called A Burning in My Bones (pp. 148-168; for the reading plan) is a drive, a push, an aching, a burning, a quest that life and pastoring and his vocation were more than what he was doing.
Eugene’s ‘more’ was, for me, at the heart of his insightful book on Jonah. After ‘working the angles’ that Peterson said no pastor can be without, Tarshish (by Eugene’s definition) still called - the want to be somebody, to make a splash, to be successful (with dangerous nuances) and gain notoriety, and that, over against the certain failure and obscurity of ministry in Nineveh! ‘Church Growth’ was the siren call of Tarshish in one of my ‘more’ episodes. Volumes on ‘how to be a successful church grower’ were piling up on my study floor. In another, smaller stack was Lewis, Brueggemann, Calvin Miller, W. Willimon, B. Manning, G. Fee and, yes, Peterson’s quiet voice saying ‘more’ may be so simple that you look past it. Liminality, in that season, was 6 years in a tiny, remote oilfield community in NM. It was prayer, study, slow conversation, practicing sermons on cows pastured nearby, reading deeply, helping people find the sacred in pump jack maintenance, in gas line calculations and finding beauty in barren sand hills. Circumstances, prophets, Jesus and mentors from my smaller pile of books helped me find more in less, success in simplicity, fullness over frantic busyness and, as mentioned in your comments Scot, that God alone could satisfy my own ache for more. I’ve not arrived in any sense where the ‘more’ has completely been answered (similar to my building/construction skills, I find myself a Jack of all trades, master of none sort of person), but when in the struggle it’s always to ones like Eugene that I find myself in conversation, again. Enjoyed this piece of Eugene’s journey immensely!! Thank you! peace
I really appreciated this part of the book and it resonates with me. I headed off to Moody in 1981 because I felt a lifelong call to be a pastor. I had ignored it for years planning instead to be a sportswriter instead. In my last year at Moody I had a pastoral counseling class and a part of me thought, "this is what I really want to do, this and preaching, but not all the other stuff that goes along with being a pastor." But I was pretty sure I was going to be the next big thing, perhaps the next Chuck Swindoll and I didn't want to limit God by being a counselor. I worked as an assistant pastor at my home church for the next 5 years, and although I loved parts of it, there was so much that didn't go well. The next 8 years were a wilderness and the feeling of wanting to be a pastor never left me, but the idea began to come to me that, in a way, I could "pastor" people by being a counselor. I headed off to CCU in 1997 to study under Larry Crabb, whose teaching my pastoral counseling professor had highlighted many years before, and whose books had come to mean a lot to me. I've now been a counselor in private practice for 22 years and I love it, but the feeling of being a spiritual director/pastor of sorts has never left me. Reading this about Peterson and how his particular work began to be more and more clarified for him was so helpful to me.
I resonate with this so much. I had been to seminary in my twenties after a few years of full time evangelistic youth ministry. I’d had a few years as a youth director at a church and saw the ugly parts of church ministry and walked away. I told God I’d be the best volunteer ever, but I never wanted to do professional ministry again.
I began freelance editing work for Christian publishers and began having babies. I volunteered at church. I volunteered with Young Life. And I was satisfied, for several years.
But then a few things happened. I remember sitting in my home office, fixing footnotes, and feeling like God said: I made you for more than this. The mom of one of my daughter’s friends asked me how to read the Bible, and I heard God say: You teach her. And so I started a community Bible study with the parents of my kids’ friends. We held it during an Awana program so the kids could learn too. I got asked to teach in our church’s women’s Bible study. I taught hundreds of women and learned that this felt like something I was made to do. I heard God tell me he was preparing me for pastoral ministry (which terrified me) and that he wanted me to start a church (which made me laugh out loud—until I remembered that it’s never a good idea to laugh at God’s call). Okay, I said, but you’re going to have to convince me.
The next week a manuscript showed up on my porch for me to edit, it was a how-to manual on church planting. I laughed again.
All of this was several years ago now. It’s been a winding path with a few major obstacles. But I met with the church planting director from our new denomination this week and she laid out a plan to get started.
I think what strikes me most about this section of the book and the transition into the pastor, writer, and to some extent, dad, that he wanted to be was that his meeting at the church with the elders was so extreme compared to his seemingly thoughtful approach to most things in his life. It's hard to imagine what it must have been like for the elders to hear his words, "I'm tired of running this damn church." To the credit of everyone in that room, I'm so happy they listened and rearranged everything so that Eugene could be the kind of pastor that he wanted to be. It says a lot about the people in the room that they were willing to care for their pastor and be willing to change in order to make a better situation for him. For all the bad press that churches get, they can be such good, beautiful and creative places, and this book has reminded me of that.
Concerning the "is there more than this" question, I see myself deal with this in two different ways. One way is to ignore the discomfort of that question by becoming so busy doing things that I avoid it. If I have things to do, it can feel like there is so much going on in life that I don't need "more." However, in times that I've been honest with myself, it's taken reflection and prayer, even studying at times, and asking myself, "what do I want?" to get to answers that give me any peace at all. Clarity is not always easy for me and trying to define what it is that I'm actually asking for is a helpful practice for me.
Wow. "...“more” is a human longing for what God alone in God’s eternity can fully quench." He is the great "I AM." As to your questions, for me that growing awareness of "more" pulled me toward a shift in what I was doing and led to seeing "holy moments" in a new way. In my own life it was seeing the great value of providing and experiencing a safe place, a climate for openness and transparency with others. A place to know and be known. That led to a shift professionally and personally that continues to grow and deepen. And that, too, can only be fully be met in God who does fully know me and the hearts of those with whom I interact. That openness was seen in Eugene and Eric's relationship. Eric's willingness to share a part of his pain, and Eugene's willingness to hear it, for example.
I sensed early on that my calling was pastoral ministry, and I’ve never really doubted that. However, my growth into this calling has come in stages. One stage was getting over my idealized expectations of what pastoral life would be like. My parents were deeply involved in Christian ministry, and they never tried to hide the difficulties. Somehow, though, I didn’t see how messy it was. What I saw was the joy of proclaiming Scripture and discipling people. I didn’t realize how difficult the people I shepherded could be. More significantly, I didn’t realize how difficult I could be. I didn’t realize how my insecurities and pride would hinder me. I didn’t realize how often I would bump up against my limitations (and that is basically all the time!).
Another stage has been trying to be relentless about guarding my commitment to the “angles” that Eugene talks about—Scripture, prayer, and spiritual direction (or spiritual care). There is such a pull to be the CEO and to focus on running the church. And I still find it challenging after all these years to maintain boundaries. I can’t describe how many times I’ve had someone call or email or stop by on my day off and say, “I know it’s your day off, but …” I did learn early on to put family events into my calendar so I could say, “Sorry, I can’t meet then because I have another commitment.” Anyway, the drive or burning for me is to try to hold true to what I believe Scripture calls me to be and do as a pastor—something that Eugene Peterson has helped me immensely with through his various books.
Eugene’s ‘more’ was, for me, at the heart of his insightful book on Jonah. After ‘working the angles’ that Peterson said no pastor can be without, Tarshish (by Eugene’s definition) still called - the want to be somebody, to make a splash, to be successful (with dangerous nuances) and gain notoriety, and that, over against the certain failure and obscurity of ministry in Nineveh! ‘Church Growth’ was the siren call of Tarshish in one of my ‘more’ episodes. Volumes on ‘how to be a successful church grower’ were piling up on my study floor. In another, smaller stack was Lewis, Brueggemann, Calvin Miller, W. Willimon, B. Manning, G. Fee and, yes, Peterson’s quiet voice saying ‘more’ may be so simple that you look past it. Liminality, in that season, was 6 years in a tiny, remote oilfield community in NM. It was prayer, study, slow conversation, practicing sermons on cows pastured nearby, reading deeply, helping people find the sacred in pump jack maintenance, in gas line calculations and finding beauty in barren sand hills. Circumstances, prophets, Jesus and mentors from my smaller pile of books helped me find more in less, success in simplicity, fullness over frantic busyness and, as mentioned in your comments Scot, that God alone could satisfy my own ache for more. I’ve not arrived in any sense where the ‘more’ has completely been answered (similar to my building/construction skills, I find myself a Jack of all trades, master of none sort of person), but when in the struggle it’s always to ones like Eugene that I find myself in conversation, again. Enjoyed this piece of Eugene’s journey immensely!! Thank you! peace
I really appreciated this part of the book and it resonates with me. I headed off to Moody in 1981 because I felt a lifelong call to be a pastor. I had ignored it for years planning instead to be a sportswriter instead. In my last year at Moody I had a pastoral counseling class and a part of me thought, "this is what I really want to do, this and preaching, but not all the other stuff that goes along with being a pastor." But I was pretty sure I was going to be the next big thing, perhaps the next Chuck Swindoll and I didn't want to limit God by being a counselor. I worked as an assistant pastor at my home church for the next 5 years, and although I loved parts of it, there was so much that didn't go well. The next 8 years were a wilderness and the feeling of wanting to be a pastor never left me, but the idea began to come to me that, in a way, I could "pastor" people by being a counselor. I headed off to CCU in 1997 to study under Larry Crabb, whose teaching my pastoral counseling professor had highlighted many years before, and whose books had come to mean a lot to me. I've now been a counselor in private practice for 22 years and I love it, but the feeling of being a spiritual director/pastor of sorts has never left me. Reading this about Peterson and how his particular work began to be more and more clarified for him was so helpful to me.
I resonate with this so much. I had been to seminary in my twenties after a few years of full time evangelistic youth ministry. I’d had a few years as a youth director at a church and saw the ugly parts of church ministry and walked away. I told God I’d be the best volunteer ever, but I never wanted to do professional ministry again.
I began freelance editing work for Christian publishers and began having babies. I volunteered at church. I volunteered with Young Life. And I was satisfied, for several years.
But then a few things happened. I remember sitting in my home office, fixing footnotes, and feeling like God said: I made you for more than this. The mom of one of my daughter’s friends asked me how to read the Bible, and I heard God say: You teach her. And so I started a community Bible study with the parents of my kids’ friends. We held it during an Awana program so the kids could learn too. I got asked to teach in our church’s women’s Bible study. I taught hundreds of women and learned that this felt like something I was made to do. I heard God tell me he was preparing me for pastoral ministry (which terrified me) and that he wanted me to start a church (which made me laugh out loud—until I remembered that it’s never a good idea to laugh at God’s call). Okay, I said, but you’re going to have to convince me.
The next week a manuscript showed up on my porch for me to edit, it was a how-to manual on church planting. I laughed again.
All of this was several years ago now. It’s been a winding path with a few major obstacles. But I met with the church planting director from our new denomination this week and she laid out a plan to get started.
I think what strikes me most about this section of the book and the transition into the pastor, writer, and to some extent, dad, that he wanted to be was that his meeting at the church with the elders was so extreme compared to his seemingly thoughtful approach to most things in his life. It's hard to imagine what it must have been like for the elders to hear his words, "I'm tired of running this damn church." To the credit of everyone in that room, I'm so happy they listened and rearranged everything so that Eugene could be the kind of pastor that he wanted to be. It says a lot about the people in the room that they were willing to care for their pastor and be willing to change in order to make a better situation for him. For all the bad press that churches get, they can be such good, beautiful and creative places, and this book has reminded me of that.
Concerning the "is there more than this" question, I see myself deal with this in two different ways. One way is to ignore the discomfort of that question by becoming so busy doing things that I avoid it. If I have things to do, it can feel like there is so much going on in life that I don't need "more." However, in times that I've been honest with myself, it's taken reflection and prayer, even studying at times, and asking myself, "what do I want?" to get to answers that give me any peace at all. Clarity is not always easy for me and trying to define what it is that I'm actually asking for is a helpful practice for me.
Wow. "...“more” is a human longing for what God alone in God’s eternity can fully quench." He is the great "I AM." As to your questions, for me that growing awareness of "more" pulled me toward a shift in what I was doing and led to seeing "holy moments" in a new way. In my own life it was seeing the great value of providing and experiencing a safe place, a climate for openness and transparency with others. A place to know and be known. That led to a shift professionally and personally that continues to grow and deepen. And that, too, can only be fully be met in God who does fully know me and the hearts of those with whom I interact. That openness was seen in Eugene and Eric's relationship. Eric's willingness to share a part of his pain, and Eugene's willingness to hear it, for example.
I sensed early on that my calling was pastoral ministry, and I’ve never really doubted that. However, my growth into this calling has come in stages. One stage was getting over my idealized expectations of what pastoral life would be like. My parents were deeply involved in Christian ministry, and they never tried to hide the difficulties. Somehow, though, I didn’t see how messy it was. What I saw was the joy of proclaiming Scripture and discipling people. I didn’t realize how difficult the people I shepherded could be. More significantly, I didn’t realize how difficult I could be. I didn’t realize how my insecurities and pride would hinder me. I didn’t realize how often I would bump up against my limitations (and that is basically all the time!).
Another stage has been trying to be relentless about guarding my commitment to the “angles” that Eugene talks about—Scripture, prayer, and spiritual direction (or spiritual care). There is such a pull to be the CEO and to focus on running the church. And I still find it challenging after all these years to maintain boundaries. I can’t describe how many times I’ve had someone call or email or stop by on my day off and say, “I know it’s your day off, but …” I did learn early on to put family events into my calendar so I could say, “Sorry, I can’t meet then because I have another commitment.” Anyway, the drive or burning for me is to try to hold true to what I believe Scripture calls me to be and do as a pastor—something that Eugene Peterson has helped me immensely with through his various books.