Out of the Cave

I fell today when I took the trash to the curb. Thankfully it was dark and early so my spectacle only entertained my angels. Nothing is broken, or at least everything is working, but I am starting to feel the jarring effects. What’s different this time is not how sore I am, but I actually feel sick.

After I dusted myself off, I went to breakfast with my friend Pam (who is a pastor in Ft. Wayne and extremely involved in healing prayer). While she was still in seminary we met for breakfast on a regular basis and I treasure those times and I miss them very much. She’s planning to be back in town in April so we’ve scheduled another visit then.

Our visits are such encouraging times, deeply spiritual and enlightening. We speak and we listen because we know how God uses those times to get through us. This morning was no exception.

I shared with Pam that I am feeling like I’m in a dark cave. Recently at work, Dan has been sharing his vision for the ministry and I really can’t see where I fit in. I am a possibility thinker. I love to be on the cutting edge, but the more he talks the less I see myself in his picture. That scares me. It’s scary because I don’t seem myself having a place of service other than where I am. Being a felon closes more doors than you can imagine. Having my charge and add to it the new horror of a life sentence as a preditor has truly left me feeling a level of despair that’s practically indescribable. I try not to think about it and just go through the day as I need to, but some days it is a darkness that just seems to swallow me up.

As we talked this morning I was reminded of King David of the Old Testament. He was running from Saul and also from some other folks he had sought refuge from and he ended up in a cave. He knew he was anointed by God to be king and there he was in a cave. Soon he was surrounded by some of his brothers and about 400 other malcontents. And David found himself the leader of this motley little crew.

Now here’s one thing new I noticed in this story. I had always emphasized that David was hiding in a cave. I saw it as cowardly. I interpreted it as a time of desperation. In 2 Samuel 22:5 the prophet tells David to leave the stronghold.

Another thing that really hit us both while we were talking had to do with our struggle and experience with ordination. Pam was assigned to a church that was dying. The previous pastor had been there for nearly 30 years. He had isolated himself and the congregation from the denomination and pretty much run it into the ground. It is the kind of situation that is nearly impossible to improve. Typically the pastor who gets to follow in this situation is a change that makes the real change possible--or the church is closed. Pam really put her all into the opportunity, but the church is ready to close. There should be no shame in that experience, but she has already been warned that she will be blamed for the demise and that it could negatively impact her getting ordained.

I was ordained in 1982. I served as a pastor and associate pastor and interim pastor until 2001. I surrendered my credentials for discipline due to my crime. I turned them in. Then, when I was able, I agreed to resign my ordination. The church was not going to put me into a pastoral role again so there seemed no sense maintaining an unused identification. I don’t see myself ever leading a congregation again and I’ve come to peace with that.

Here’s what Pam and I came to understand as we shared this morning. Ordination is a man-given thing. It can be surrendered, taken away, or denied. But what we have is from God: it is an anointing. That’s the piece that so many refer to with me: God isn’t done with me yet. And I know He’s not done with Pam.

It may feel like we’re alone in a cave, but there are those who only we can minister to--like David’s motley crew. But we will need to leave the cave, the stronghold of our own making, the place where we may feel despair, but also feel some level of safety or we wouldn’t be there.

We talked right up till I heeded to scoot out of town. I ran in quickly to the office to grab my tub and wheely cart of paperwork. As I left our building I dumped the whole thing over. I hopped in the car and popped in a CD: At the Foot of the Cross, God of All of Me. The first song was “It is well with my soul.” It’s an old hymn, and oddly enough the one that was sung at my ordination service. The second song: “I surrender all.” I wept and prayed the whole way to Norwalk.

As I got out of my car to come in the Job Store here I dumped everything again--this time into puddles on the sidewalk. Normally this would have set me off. Today I have too much peace for that. Then when I got into the office I use to see participants all those same papers dumped again--TWICE!

So today is sort of interesting. There is a theme of falling and dumping. For me this is a symbol of lack of control: I cannot control what happens to me or the things around me or the circumstances life drops in my lap. It is also an encouragement to trust and a nudge to come out of the cave. I haven’t moved out on that one yet, but the day is still young and hopefully I won’t be too sore to move later.