I woke up today with a VERY old hymn playing on hard repeat in my mind. Why? I have no idea. But because it was so strong and so clearly blaring in the ears of my mind (does a mind have ears?), I thought maybe I’d try and poke at these lyrics and see what comes out by way of spiritual encouragement for us all.

If you’ve read much of this blog or been walking with me for a while, you know some of my story. I grew up a “son of a preacher man” and so my earliest memories are fully immersed in the context of a small, independent Baptist church. You can look it up on Google maps if you want. It at one time was called South Jersey Baptist Church–SJBC to insiders–but now it’s called Good Samaritan Baptist Church.

As a youngin’ who grew up in that setting, I learned all the songs; always accompanied by that tinny-sounding upright piano, with Mr. Faith (yes, his real name) playing on the keys each Sunday morning. The song pounding in my head today that takes me back to good ol’ 307 Townbank Rd. was “Blest Be The Tie That Binds”. Sing along if you know it…

“Blest be the tie that binds…our hearts in Christian love
The fellowship of kindred minds….is like to that above.”

There are 5 other verses, but honestly, I think we only ever sang that one. It was really more of a diddy than a song, really. More of a single stanza than a full hymn, at least the way we did it.

So there I am in the shower this morning, “Blest beee the tiiiiie that biiiiinds…”

The first place my mind goes is to Jesus’ prayer for His disciples AND for you and for me (included in that high priestly prayer): “I pray that they will all be one, just as you and I are one—as you are in me, Father, and I am in you. And may they be in us so that the world will believe you sent me.” (John 17:21)

How tight, how close, how intimate is that level of unity? There’s nothing closer than to share the same heart, the same focus, the same passion, the same direction as God the Father shares with God the Son. And it’s God the Holy Spirit that makes this level of unity possible.

Is there disunity among us as followers of Jesus? The answer, I fear, is an emphatic yes. However, the next question must be addressed and answered: Why? Why–when Jesus Himself seemed to plead for this level of unity–why are we not as unified as Jesus desires us to be? I can say that I believe in principle we are, but in practice, we aren’t.

So what IS the “tie that binds”? Is it not the fact that each of us draws our salvation, reconciliation, redemption, forgiveness, and justification from the same place; the very cross of Jesus Christ? And what is it that works against our unity as His followers? And do those things have any right to carry the weight we often wrongfully give them? What’s working against the “fellowship of kindred minds”?

I’d suggest to you that it is our unity that will present our most potent apologetic to the truth of the Gospel story. It is the togetherness, the oneness among His people that will declare to the world that we are His and His is ours.

I conducted a wedding ceremony yesterday. Officiating weddings is one of my favorite things to do as an ordained minister. There’s a holiness, a solemnity, a sacredness at the wedding altar. There’s a unity that is born that is reflective of God’s own unity with Himself in eternal community. We touch the divine in such sacred covenantal moments. Do we see our brothers and sisters washed in the same blood in this way? Do we uphold unity above all else? If we do not, we do not uphold the Gospel and the ministry of reconciliation we have been given by our Reconciler.

This will be one of those hard stops. I’ll end here and ask your thoughts on this issue of Christian fellowship and unity among believers. Where do you see fractures? Where do you see unity? What are some steps we can take together in Christ?

I’ve had a number of run-ins with celebrity types over the years. I’ll admit that you might not recognize many (or any) of these people, but at the moment it happened, that “brush with greatness” was memorable.

When I was in college, somehow we had Oliver North come and speak at our school. I had the chance to ask the final question of the Q&A session at the end of the night. So I asked him what his favorite (or most cherished) scripture verse was.

On two different occasions, I ran into Alan Ruck. Alan played “Cameron”, Ferris Bueller’s best friend in the 80’s cult classic “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off”. He also played “Rabbit” in the hit movie “Twister”. The second time I saw him was in a grocery store. I got up the gumption to actually invite him to a theatrical event at the church I was pastoring at. Imagine that. I asked “Rabbit” to use his map and find his way to our church building to watch me help “act” out the crucifixion and resurrection story.

I was flying from somewhere to somewhere else. I had a connection in Chicago’s O’Hare Airport. During that flight, I overheard two flight attendants talking to each other that Barry Manilow was actually at the airport we were headed to. I got off the plane and was walking down the concourse when none other than Barry Manilow (along with his entourage) literally walked directly across my path. I mean DIRECTLY. Barry and his pre-rhinoplasty nose was within 12-18 inches of my likewise un-small nose. It was all a blur I didn’t see coming, or I would’ve tried to stop him and tell him that at age 12 when I got my first Walkman, his greatest hits album was the very first cassette I ever owned. You know, like most 12-year-old guys.

When we lived in Nyack, New York, Rosie O’Donnell moved into town. Nyack is a wonderful little bedroom town full of NYC commuters. If you don’t know Rosie, you weren’t alive in the late-90s when her daytime talk and variety show was THE SHOW to watch. Imagine Jimmy Fallon during daytime television with amazing special guests, hilarity, and an anything-can-happen approach to entertainment. We both had daughters who were the same age and in elementary school so at the end of the school day, many parents would stand outside the school building (like a car pick-up line, but much more conversational/connective) and just talk with each other. One day Rosie approached me and started talking to me, asking if I was somehow a part of her Broadway show called “Taboo”, which was a musical based on Boy George’s life story. (Are you saying you’re not familiar with Boy George? Do you really want to hurt me?) Anyway, I had to confess that I in fact was not any part of the cast or crew of her apparently enormous Broadway production. But she was pleasant and approachable, covered in paint from a project at home just a couple blocks away.

But perhaps my favorite run-in with greatness was the most interesting of them all. I was strolling some downtown area one day during some out-of-state conference I was attending where we were given some free time. My wife and I saw a large luxury bus with the word “Discover Card” emblazoned on the side of it. The door was open, so clearly that was an invitation to step inside, and so we did. Because why not? As soon as we climbed up the curved staircase steeply ascending into this beautiful beast of a bus, we realized this was no bus at all. This was more like a lavish apartment and we were instantly in the front living room. Lush leather couches flanked the path we were on. We were invited/instructed to make our way to the kitchen where we could help ourselves to decadent chocolates and perfectly chilled glass-bottle Coca-Colas in the fridge (When they’re in glass bottles as God intended, you can’t just say “Coke”). We made our way to the back room where a very handsome, very fit male human sat behind a large table. Next to him was someone else, maybe an assistant, maybe a bodyguard, maybe a PR person. Who knows. On the table in front of this svelte mass of masculinity was a stack of 8×10 glossy photos of himself and a steel cup filled with Sharpie markers. This man (I had figured out he was a famous professional athlete by then) slid a photo of himself off the top of the stack, asked me my name, and scribbled on the photo with the Sharpie. He slid it across the table to me, said thanks for coming, and urged me to take more chocolates and glass-bottle Coca-Colas on my way out. Which I did. Wouldn’t you?

What type of greatness has your life brushed up against? Let me know in the comment section to share your story!

That last one will always stick out with me because I think it’s probably the way many of us Christians approach our view of God. We sense He’s a big deal, we come to him “hat in hand” as the old saying goes, we interact with him for a moment, grab our glossy, and slink back to normal life. By the way, I still have that glossy photo. It’s of that guy (I still have no idea of his name) and the photo is an action shot of him skating on an NHL ice hockey rink. Here’s what he wrote: “To my friend, Jerry….” and then unintelligible scribble that I assume is his autograph.

But see? The glossy says “my friend” so that means we’re friends, right?

You know better and so do I. Just because I had a run-in with someone of acclaim doesn’t mean at all that I have a meaningful connection with that person. And I fear that many people enter into worship gatherings much like my experience on that luxury bus. Grabbing the chocolates and glass-bottle Coca-Colas, but without any meaningful familiarity with Who it is we’re actually there to commune with, worship, hear from, and be changed by.

Let’s not merely have “brushes with greatness”. Let’s inhabit the Greatness of God in our own lives. Romans 8 tells us that the very power that raised Jesus from the dead lives within us. If this is true, it isn’t the stories of celebrity run-ins that are eye-catching but the fact that the very God of heaven and earth is willing to be with us and to live within us. Do you want a brush with Greatness? Embrace the grace and forgiveness that God offers all of humanity by way of Jesus’ death and resurrection and then take a look in the mirror. You’re witnessing the greatest greatness that could ever exist: the changed heart, mind, and life.

Months ago (I should have written down the date), God spoke clearly to me and impressed on my heart what our theme for this year’s high school fall retreat would be. “Shalom,” He said. “Really?…You sure?… You won’t want to think about it a little more? No rush. Seriously.”, I replied. I was taken aback by what God was saying. I wasn’t quite sure how I would build an entire weekend retreat (4 sessions altogether) around a well-worn Hebrew word. And that was my first mistake; it wouldn’t be me building anything. It would be me being obedient to God’s directive call. *Fellow pastors, take note of this. I’m still learning it after nearly 3 decades in ministry: I’m not actually creating or carrying anything. Neither are you. We’re stewarding the good gifts of God.*

I’m gonna take a wild guess here. Actually, it’s not a wild guess at all. It’s a confident knowledge that can be backed by irrefutable evidence: NO high schooler I have ever interacted with has ever had “Shalom” as a part of their daily vocabulary. They’re more likely to use words like “fair”, “bet”, “fit”, “vibe”, “drip”, and “extra”. But “Shalom”? Nah, bruh.

I couldn’t have known (but should’ve known) just what God would do with His promises. Throughout the weekend, we watched Him move and heard Him speak so clearly through this seemingly simple, straightforward word. Not merely during our times of gathered worship, but all throughout the conversations and activities that we had, we saw shalom rise up as a reality, as a longing, as a gift, and as a blessing.

If you were to ask the first person you meet on the street what shalom means, you are likely to get the response, “It means peace.” But there’s more to shalom than simply peace. And while we’re at it, let’s define what we mean by peace. Most people view peace as a time of quiet in the absence of trouble. But this type of peace–this shalom–doesn’t care much about what’s going on outwardly. Shalom is an inner wholeness, completeness, and gifted peace that is far beyond the simple absence of trouble.

Here is a sound byte from each of our four sessions; the truths we gathered around when we gathered and fed on God’s Word (Disclaimer: There’s just no way to convey what we experienced together in God’s presence, so these are just summaries):

Friday evening: Shalom is not just peace, but wholeness. The absence of shalom indicates a need for spiritual healing. We used a broken circle imagery to ask where those fractures are so that with God’s guidance, we could begin to address them and seek His healing.

Saturday morning: We talked about how shalom calls us to vulnerability. As we are willing to be vulnerable in our faith walk, and as we are willing to allow ourselves to be known by others, we grow in humility as we understand that our collective brokenness relieves us from having to pretend. Fear shatters shalom, but shalom shields the heart. God’s Word gives us the “Do not fear” instruction 365 times. When we welcome humility by releasing fear, humility ushers in unity, and it is unity that Jesus prayed for when He prayed for us, His disciples.

Saturday evening: Shalom is the gift of God that changes who we are and what we are like. We talked about how to introduce spiritual healing into every relationship we have and how to steer conversations into a spiritual direction. Three words create a simple structure: engage, encourage, and equip. More organically, and as a result of one of our teen girls sharing something powerful, we also talked about what it means to truly encourage someone. We looked at 2 Timothy and Paul’s instruction to Timothy to “fan into flame” God’s gift with us. So when we encourage someone, we are literally stoking the fire of their faith!

Sunday morning: Shalom is not peace in the absence of conflict, it is wholeness even in the presence of trouble. Over the past few years, we have shifted our Sunday morning gatherings at retreat to far more of an open sharing time to allow people to reflect on our weekend and what God has said to them, so they can verbally process it, share it, and encourage others with it. We wrapped up with the simple truth that “Shalom faces forward”. How then do we live shalom going forward? I learned long, long ago that God writes a far better story than I do. So as a communicator and pastor, I only give enough direction to provide some suggestions for taking the learned truth forward. I don’t typically script an explicit “now do this” type of response. I leave all that to God’s Holy Spirit. I simply speak the truth, unpack that truth in practical ways, and encourage listeners to live the truth God is speaking to them.

I like to wrap things up with a nice bow, but this one rejects that idea. Shalom is ongoing and won’t be concluded. I’m excited to get together with those who are living Shalom and seek to be even more encouraging of one another. I can’t express the joy of walking with students and adults as we embrace the gift of shalom that God has given us. In storms, we walk on water. In conflict, we are peaceful. When fractures happen, we are agents of restoration. When fear attacks our hearts, we are shielded by the shalom of God. And so, so much more.

In the next two weeks, hand-written notes along with this sticker will go out to those who were a part of our Shalom weekend. I want to challenge and encourage (stoke the flame of) young people who are living in our postmodern world where peace is vaporous and stability is fleeting. Because in Shalom, we are sure-footed, we are bold, we are water-walkers, and we are reflections of the wholeness, the completeness, and the peace that God alone can give us.

Over the years, I’ve had several people ask me about my calling, specifically my calling into ministry. People are fascinated for a variety of reasons, and I’m always happy to share my story. My most recent opportunity came just yesterday when a young person who’s sensing and following their own call to ministry wanted to hear more of the details of my call. I gave them the abridged version, for sake of time and efficiency. I can’t and won’t promise the same thing here.

Do you mind if I tell you a short story? It’ll help connect the dots as we dig into the idea of calling.

My youngest son’s birthday was last week. He works at a hospital, and I thought it would be nice to have lunch with him on his birthday on his lunchbreak. This hospital’s parking lot is always crowded, so I had to park far from the main building and starting the long walk toward the hospital. 

As I walked, I heard a very faint, barely audible voice “Help me!”. It was barely above the decibel level of a light breeze. I turned my head side to side to see if I could see anything that matched what I imagined I heard but saw nothing. So, I kept walking. Ten to twenty feet later, I hear something again: “Can someone help me?” This time, it seems a bit louder and more urgent. This time, loud enough to stop me in my tracks. I again looked around, this time more intently trying to find the source of the distress call. Nothing. No one. I kept walking.

Another several seconds and paces pass. A third time, “Can someone help over here, please! We need help!” Okay, that’s it. Lunch would have to wait. I had to find out where that cry for help was coming from. I looked across the parking lot and saw a woman waving her arms in the air at me. I ran over and as I got closer, saw another set of feet—these belonging to a person on the ground between the parked cars. I said, “I’ll go get help” and I ran toward the Emergency Room entrance of the hospital. As I approached, I saw a doctor who had likely just ended his shift and was walking out. I told him there was a medical emergency in the parking lot and we both went into the Emergency Room to get more help. (Shout out to this weary doctor who undoubtedly just wanted to go home.) Within moments a team of nurses were following me as I pointed out where the person in need was located. As I turned and headed back toward the hospital, I saw another group of 2-3 nurses, with a hospital bed rolling in the direction of the person on the ground. So, I turned back toward the need and directed them as well. Confident that the help had found the helpless, I took a deep breath and continued on my way to lunch. 

You know what? I need to share another story to connect another dot. I’ll make it quick.

My teenage years were pretty normal. I did school, played in the band, dabbled in theater (with the varsity letter to prove it), and lived to hang out with my friends. Then I started dating a girl. She was a great girl, but that relationship drove me to make disastrous decisions that systematically destroyed every other relationship in my life. For the sake of time, that’s as detailed as I’ll get right now. Suffice it to say, I had made a complete mess of my life. Toward the end of that period, I went to a Christian music festival called “Creation” in Altoona, PA. It was June 1990. I sat in a sea of twelve-thousand people and listened to a message by Tony Campolo. But far as I was concerned, I was the only person in that open field. God spoke so clearly to me about where I had been, Who He was/is, and His love for me. I had wrecked my life and every relationship in it, and with every right to reject me, Jesus embraced me with grace, mercy, love, and forgiveness. If you’ve been in a similar place, you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t been there, I only hope you will, perhaps without the pain that I brought upon myself. Standing in the middle of the ashes my life had become, Jesus was there with me, ready to heal, ready to help, ready to restore me completely. My eyes are welling up now thinking about it. Thirty-three or so years later, I’m still overwhelmed by His love for a “wretch like me”. As I stood up in the middle of that field in Altoona, PA I spoke a very simple prayer, one that I still repeat to this day. It was a prayer of full surrender. I meant it then, and I mean it today. 

When I think about my own calling, and I share my story with others, or try and advise those who are wrestling with their own sense of calling, I tell them the decision I made in that field in Pennsylvania on that warm June night. My calling wasn’t really a calling, at least not as you might imagine it would be. It was kind of an non-calling. All I knew was that I was broken, Jesus was healing, and there was only one response that made any sense. You’ll find this in Paul’s words to the Church in Rome in the first century. Read Romans 12:1 sometime. In light of what Jesus had done, the surrender of my life to Him was the only logical decision. I didn’t have a sky-splitting revelation of a grand future as a pastor, missionary, or evangelist. I didn’t really have a vision at all. I only knew what He did and offered my life to Him as a result. That was my calling. 

So how does someone recognize and reconcile the sense of calling they have? I wish I had a nice, neat formula, but then again I’m glad I don’t. I don’t believe it’s as neat and tidy as plugging variables into an equation and having it produce the answer for you. But let me see if I can give some handles to grab in this issue of calling. Here are some questions I’d offer to someone seeking to define their calling:

1. What has Jesus done for you and what is your response to Him? Be specific.
2. What has God put in your hands in terms of skills, passions, talents, and resources?
3. Where has God placed within you a hunger for helping humanity find the Healer?
4. What makes you angry? What do you see in our world that makes you say, “That isn’t right, and something’s got to be done about it”?
5. Are you willing to release the world’s opinion of you, and the world’s definition of success in order to be obedient to God’s directing voice in your life? 

These questions are by no means exhaustive, but I pray they are a starting point to help you define and embrace God’s calling on your life. And let me be clear: I reject the idea that calling equals full-time ministry or vocational ministry. I believe God calls people to be plumbers, retail workers, CEOs, lawyers, teachers, bakers, baristas, mechanics, contractors, nurses, and yes…even pastors. 

Back to that hospital parking lot. My calling is to listen closely for the cries for help in today’s generation. My calling is to point the helpless to the Help and to introduce the Help to the helpless. Flawed cracked pot that I am, I know who the Help, Healing, and Hope for humanity is. And I live to connect the helpless with the Help. That’s my calling. 

Quite an ambitious title, wouldn’t you say? Would anyone dare suggest that the exhaustion 75% of people (according to research) feel can be affected and even transformed into anything resembling exhilaration? This is what I’d like to address.

There’s a dramatically high percentage of people who have reported feelings of exhaustion and “burn out” in regards to their work life. Because we are humans and not machines, that sense of exhaustion doesn’t turn off at a certain time, like when we leave the workplace. It bleeds into and poisons all other areas of our lives.

For many of us, our headspace is what most establishes the healthfulness or disease we find in our workplace. This will be the ball of yarn we’ll bat around and unravel as we discuss this idea of exhaustion to exhilaration. And please don’t think that I think I have all the answers. But as I look around at those in my life and as I look at the cultural landscape and as I move around my community and overhear conversations, see worn faces, and experience the milieu, there’s something amiss.

If there’s going to be a move from one to the other, it’s going to be because a few things are firmly in place. Put simply, without these things in place there’ll always be a wobble to (or collapse of) the table we’re seeking to set for ourselves.

First, I want to invite you along with me into an exercise that might seem far too whimsical to be practical. But let’s just see where it goes. What I’m going to do and invite you to do along with me is to create a vision of your ideal existence (confessing that where you are isn’t it). That vision will do several things for you, but most importantly it will create the backdrop as well as the driving imagery you can make future decisions against. I’d wager that the reason we’re in the condition we’re in is largely because we don’t do the work of creating a vision to hold daily choices up to in order to see if they match up with where we actually want to go.

Here’s my ideal existence: I’m living in a place surrounded by nature. I have a body of water nearby, preferably a river or ocean, but I’d even be okay with a wide stream. I have a front porch and a back deck, each with sink-in comfy seating. I have a place to create. The creative process is what gives me such joy. The words I’m typing right now are part of that joy. I simply love to create; blog posts, woodworking, building, whittling, graphic design, drawing, writing my next message I’ll communicate to a group of people (large or small), and anything where something wasn’t there before and now it is. In my ideal existence, I get to connect with and influence/disciple young lives. I get to have a meaningful voice, not for my own ego but to share with them what’s real and true for the purpose of helping them step into and live the life that is the best fit for them. This might be in the local church setting, on a university campus as a professor or a chaplain, or it might be in some other complexion of being able to interact with the younger generation. When visioning happens within us, we are empowered to cut free from lesser versions that end up being depleting and exhausting.

It’s at this point that you need to resist the temptation to argue with your vision. Don’t bemoan the fact that it’s unrealistic or too far-fetched. After all, it’s your vision. Of course it feels that way. You’re just experiencing the tension between what is and what could/will be. I’ve done this a lot over the years and its never helpful…

I listen to a fair amount of podcasts that have to do with leadership, goals, planning, influence, forward motion, etc. And each time I do, I struggle to not internally dispense with a long list of grumpy reasons why they can and I can’t. I think things like “Well, of course they can say that. They’re on the New York Times best seller list.” or “That’s easy for you to say; you don’t have the demands, the schedule, or the stresses I have to carry.” I’ll even confess to you with a tinge of shame that I’ve even thought, “I can’t stand the way this guy enunciates. He’s always so chipper and positive. If we switched places, my life would knock that chipper right out of his mouth. Must be nice to humble-brag about your ‘green room conversations’ with so-and-so movers, shakers, and thought leaders. The only way I’ll ever see the inside of a green room is if I found some green paint on the ‘Oops, we mixed the wrong color’ sale section at Home Depot and painted my lousy room baby-crap green.”

We become exhausted when we don’t have any stake in the ground of our ideal existence. Even a few inches of ground can make a difference. If my boss is a complete hard-nosed, overly demanding psychopath seemingly determined to drive us and our joy into the ground BUT we have carved out a niche where there’s a glimpse of that vision that we can enjoy, then we can endure until we gain a few inches more.

The move from exhaustion to exhilaration is found in the often-times tiny movements from our current reality to our ideal reality. What might feel like a thousand mile journey is impacted by even the slightest progress, isn’t it? And where that progress is present, so is hope. And hope is an undeniable fuel in the journey.

So after you’ve created your ideal existence vision, choose any part of it that you can act on. Let’s say that part of your ideal existence involves driving a Karmann Ghia. Awesome. (Great choice, by the way.) Open up a separate account with your online bank and label it “Ghia”. Every paycheck, add $5, $10, $50 to that account. Celebrate the wins. Put an alert on your Ebay app so that when a Ghia becomes available, you know it. Become an expert on the specs of Karmann Ghias. Let that knowledge drive (pun intended) you to keep that vision of wind whipping through your Ghia-blown hair alive and well as you move inch-by-inch toward that key dangling from your keyring. You see, it isn’t just the attaining of the vision, but the achievements toward attaining the vision that are so empowering.

When I was learning to drive, I learned a rather valuable lesson for life as well as staying alive behind the wheel. When you turn your head while driving, you probably–without noticing it–turn your shoulders (even slightly) as well. This inadvertently turns the wheel ever so slightly. Without you realizing it, turning your head causes the wheel to turn. The lesson: You’ll go where you’re looking.

So I’ve got to ask: Where have you been looking? I’d bet that more than likely you’re right where your sight has led you. But vision is different than seeing. Bring that vision into the forefront and daily make decisions that propel that vision. Let’s call these “vision decisions”. One day during a round of golf with my dad, we decided together that we’d change our definition of a good shot as “closer to the hole”. That’s it. I could top the ball, slice it, hook it, shank it, or anything else you could do when trying to hit a golf ball. As long as it moved closer to the hole, that was a good shot. Maybe you need to redefine for yourself what a good shot is, and celebrate them. One vision decision per day. Super doable.

Next, bring in outside help. I’ve said it before and it bears repeating: Deciding to do something and telling no one about it is as good as not deciding to do anything. So who’s it gonna be? I have a person on my life that I meet with every other Wednesday. We keep track of direction, decisions, and vision and I tell him where I’m at with the vision I hold. It has quickly become one of my favorite meetings. I look forward to it every time, even when I haven’t moved forward much because I know it’s going to help me recalibrate and reset. So, who’s your outside help?

I recently read “Liturgy of the Ordinary” by Tish Harrison Warren. It’s such a great book. In it, Tish walks us through what would we would think is another mundane day and shows us where and how to see and experience the presence of God, even in the moments that are seemingly unremarkable. She pulls back the veil that oftentimes clouds our vision and stops us from seeing things in a far better light than just “that was another Monday”. In the closing chapter, Warren talks about sleep and its impact has on our entire existence. I wonder how you’re doing in that department? Most adult humans in America are not doing great when it comes to rest. The attitude seems to be that there’s not enough time and too much to do. But the issue of rest is so pivotal not just for your body, but for your mind, heart, and spirit as well. Think honestly about how you can get more of the rest you need. Do you even know how many hours your body needs? (I’ve learned my optimal amount is 7 hours exactly.) Make a decision about earlier bed times, midday mindfulness and mental rest exercises, naps, or a better approach to structuring your daily/weekly workload so it’s not so overloaded. If you’d like to see the tool I’m currently using to structure my week, email me and I’ll send you a copy. Figure out how to gain an extra hour of sleep tonight. Next week, add another half hour. In a week’s time, you’ve gain a whole extra hour of sleep. Go for another one if necessary. See what happens.

The most powerful step you can take is your next step. And I don’t mean to downplay it, but it doesn’t matter much what it is–just that you simply take it. So, decide. Are you going to make that call? Set that appointment? Invest in that tool to help you move toward that goal? Structure the day differently? Seek the advice of that person in the field who’s out there doing what looks a lot like your vision? Just decide.

We’ll move from exhaustion to exhilaration when we keep the vision God has placed in our hearts at the forefront of our minds, and make daily decisions that align with that vision, moving us in the direction of where we truly want to go. We’ll move from exhaustion to exhilaration when we release the excuses, the “yeah, but’s”, and the pride that so often keeps us from the forward motion we desire. We’ll move from exhaustion to exhilaration when we lift up our head and begin to see the opportunities instead of the obstacles. We’ll move from exhaustion to exhilaration when we take even the smallest step from where we are to where we’re going.

As always, I’d love to hear from you on anything you’ve read here. What steps are taking? What obstacles are you facing? I’d love the chance to encourage you and share with you on an even more personal level what I’ve been through, experienced, and how I wrestle to overcome those things. Email me at jvarner@southsidechurchva.org or text me at (804) 304-4669.

Okay. Here goes. I’m going to try and reflect on some of the thoughts, conversations, observations, and experiences I’ve had over the past six weeks while I’ve been on a sabbatical from my ministry post at Southside Church in Chesterfield, VA. If you’ve been traveling along with me, you’ve already read four posts I’ve written during this sabbatical. If you haven’t read those, just scroll back to find them.

First I want to just put something on the table in the interest of transparency. If at any time while reading you perceive that I am saying anything that is anywhere near something that seems like ungratefulness, please know that I am fully aware of the lavish luxury of being afforded six weeks of paid time off. I am so very thankful to serve at a church that believes in giving its pastors rest. My previous sabbatical was eight years before, and if you know anything of the story of Southside Student Ministries and all that has happened in those eight years…well…you likely know that I more than welcomed this break with open arms. I’m just so grateful for it and I believed I’ve used the time in a way that’s been beneficial.

I’ll pull from different sources while laying out what I’ll share here. I’m a notorious forgetter, so if I don’t write something down or capture it in some way, I’m susceptible to losing it forever to the black hole that resides in the corner of my cranium. I’ve done my best to journal, to record, to reflect, and to hold on to the important takeaways and the precious things I’ve learned over these six weeks.

I’ll start off by saying that I’m in a season of waiting. Since long before sabbatical began, I’ve been waiting on the Lord to speak clearly as He writes my story. For those who don’t know, I am a full-time pastor to students and young adults. I received my call at the age of sixteen and I’ve been a pastor for over 28 years now. I love my calling and I thank God every day for it. You may also know that as a pastor, I do not enjoy tolerating non-momentum. I don’t like not moving. I don’t like a lack of forward motion. I don’t like marking time. I don’t like the sensation of non-progress. Yet I have sensed all of the above in my own life and leadership. While watching other ministries explode and catapult with all the external measures of fruit, success, and excited growth I have waited on the Lord to lead, to speak, to bless. I learned long ago not to compare. When we compare, we compete–even subconsciously–and we will always end up in one of two unhealthy places: we’ll think we’re better or (more likely) we’ll think we’re not as good as the person or thing we’re comparing ourselves to. Still, I have been wondering when the explosion, the growth, the momentum, the ground-shaking wave is coming to the doorstep of Southside Student Ministry.

So I’ve been listening. I’ve been waiting. I’ve been obedient. I’ve been asking, seeking, and knocking. I’ve done my very best to hear and follow God’s voice. But I also know there’s no formula for fruit in terms of ministry strategy. One of the things I have against much of how it seems most ministry leaders seem to operate is the application of some structure or trend or formula in hopes of that doing the trick. Webinars, resources, conventions, and truckloads of material has been written and produced as one leader seeks to sell other leaders on the thing they did that unlocked the growth.

I don’t buy that. I see no such approach to ministry in the gospels or the early Church. Here’s my ministry strategy:

1. Stay relentlessly close to Jesus in conversation, worship, submission, and bold obedience.
2. Continually seek His voice and His direction for our very unique ministry, and follow it.
3. Clearly communicate those desires and that vision to those I serve/lead.
4. Love every person with the love Jesus has shown and given to me.
5. Trust God for the outcome.

I suppose I could write a short novel under each of those listed above in order to unpack each, but this is the nutshell version. While I could pontificate endlessly about all this, I won’t. Suffice it to say that I entered my sabbatical in a season of waiting and as far as I can tell, I’m ending sabbatical in that same season.

I did some traveling during my time away. You may not have noticed, but I did not write a blog post last week. I intended to write weekly during my six weeks, but last week was just too sweetly full of family stuff that I didn’t want to pause, pull away, and write stuff down. I realize that by doing so I may have lost some of those memories, but just like being present at a concert instead of trying to record every moment on your phone, I decided instead to just live. Just be. Just enjoy.

My wife, youngest son and I traveled to St. Mary’s, Ohio where my oldest son lives. He’s been there on his own for about two months now, having been hired by a brilliant family of companies who needed the very best graphic designer. He’s got himself an apartment and a thriving design career. To say I’m proud of him just wouldn’t cut it, but I am.

While there, we visited a church on Sunday morning. I commiserate with my son who’s struggled to get himself to visit a local church there. Walking into a church as a new person is difficult enough when you’re a couple or a family, but walking in solo with no clue what’ll happen has got to be a really difficult challenge. So we wanted to take the chance to help him break the ice and go together to a worship service.

As we parked the car in the lot and walked in, we noticed that other people were carrying camping chairs. “Certainly we’re not supposed to bring our own chair into this church service”, we said to each other. Turns out, certainly we were. We walked in to see that every person who had gathered came with their own chair en tow. Gulp. Now what? Do we stand in the back? Sit on the floor? Convince one of the regulars to sell us their chair? Do we just leave? These were the questions that flooded our minds, just behind eyeballs that were bulging out of our heads at what we were witnessing.

I don’t shy away from a challenge, so I marched myself right into the middle of the sanctuary, where I spotted four lone metal folding chairs. Four chairs. Four of us. Perfect. I inquired if these chairs were taken by anyone and a nice lady nearby told me they were available; literally the only four chairs in the room that were not camping chairs and not being sat on. I waved the rest of the family over and we took our seats. The people were friendly, the service was casual, and the regular pastor was absent. The songs were familiar, the crowd was diverse, and the message (by someone other than the pastor) was, as the kids say, “mid”. While it wasn’t a “love connection” between my son and this particular church, we were glad to be able to cross that one off the list so my son could keep looking for the spiritual community to call home. (By the way, this church was in the middle of a renovation which explained the no-chairs situation. If you didn’t know, you didn’t know.)

After a delicious lunch, we went to the Neil Armstrong Air & Space Museum. Neil Armstrong was born in Wapakoneta, Ohio and this facility stands as a tribute to him to tell the story of his life. While meandering through looking at exhibits, a staff (or really really knowledgeable person who just loves to talk) came by and told us about the Gemini 8 incident. Did you know what happened on the Gemini 8 mission? Neither did I. (Photo: Neil Armstrong’s space suit, worn on that mission, as well as the actual Gemini 8 capsule where he and David Scott sat.) I’ve found a three or so minute video that explains what happened up there. I was dumbfounded.

I don’t post many pictures of myself on my blog, but I gotta hand it to my hilarious wife who suggested I pose next to the Armstrong statue that sits outside his museum.

We left St. Mary’s, Ohio the next morning when my son headed off to work. We drove a couple hours east to Granville, Ohio where my youngest daughter works nearly every morning at a lovely little bakery called “Station”. If you’re in the area, I highly recommend you stop in and order the Station breakfast sandwich. A converted train station, this little coffee spot is a half hour from her soon-to-be alma mater, Mount Vernon Nazarene University. Today as I write this, she starts classes for her senior year. Parents, don’t blink. Seriously. Don’t. Blink.

We enjoyed a great visit with her and her boyfriend over the next couple of days. We chatted, laughed, ate yummy things, and just really enjoyed each other’s company. She’s a sweetie and if you know her, you know.

Upon returning to VA, I needed to complete a five-hour silent retreat for an assignment for class. In case you don’t know, I’m currently taking classes for two masters degrees. So I planned accordingly, packed my little backpack with my Bible, a pen, a journal, and some water, plotted my course for this time with Jesus, and headed out. Here, I’ll seek to distill what I took away from that experience.

The thing I want most in life is closeness to Jesus. Everything else I want will mean nothing without closeness to Jesus. So I thought about closeness and what it even means. I wrote this in my journal that I took with me: “I may have inadvertently lost track of the real meaning of closeness and substituted external things that I can measure more easily.” Upon realizing this, I repented of it.

Then I wrote down what I consider the markers/indicators of closeness:

• Peace (Phil. 4:4-7 promises us peace when we trust Jesus with all the details of our lives.)
• Familiarity (John 10:27 tells us that when we are close to Jesus, His voice is familiar.)
• Silence (Psalm 62:1 tells us that in silence we find our salvation.)
• Vulnerability (Psalm 139:23 invites God to see us through and through. We welcome it.)

I submit to you that you ought to assess whether you are experiencing these things in your life right now. If any of them are missing, ask yourself about your closeness to Jesus and how you can foster a closeness to Him right now. Nothing. I mean NOTHING will matter in life unless you are near to Him.

Much more happened in those five hours between Jesus and I, but I’ll keep that to myself for now.

That was Thursday. On Friday my girlfriend and I went on a trip to Big Island, VA. We rented an AirBNB in this little mountain town where your cell phone signal says “SOS Only”. We rested, relaxed, hot tubbed, drove around, ate, antiqued, talked a lot, and laughed a whole lot.

As a celebration of our 50 years on earth, we climbed a mountain. This one was called “Sharp Top” and is part of the “Peaks of Otter”. Look it up. Here’s me on one of the summits. It was steep uphill all the way. But when you’re turning fifty, you got to just look at challenges like that and throat-punch them. So we did.

Lastly, I’ll try and share some other random thoughts I’ve had and things I’ve learned while on sabbatical.

My thankitude should be for both the grand and the granular. And yes, thankitude is a word I made up. It’s better than gratitude and thankfulness. It’s an attitude that is determined to thank God for everything, no matter what. One of the sweet activities my wife and I enjoyed (totally spontaneously) while hiking that mountain was to ping pong back and forth, taking turns sharing something we are thanking God for. I loved it so much I decided on that trail that I want more thankitude in my life.

I’m astounded at the wellspring of goodness with which God has overflowed my life. As I think about this sabbatical and all that it held for me, I imagine myself seated comfortably near a well that God has given me. From that well, I receive His presence, His peace, His power, His companionship, and all that He desires. From it, I am refreshed continually. I may walk a ways in some direction either seeking something or serving someone, but I can always return to that deep well and draw from it all that He graciously provides. Even as I say that, I’m reminded of Jesus’ words to the woman at the well. He promised her that if she accepted the “living water” (John 4), then that water would “become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” (4:14) Lord, thank you for the deep well you bring me to. And even more than that, thank you for the well you’re creating within me, so that others can be refreshed as I love them in Your name.

Whoa. Look at the time. I think that’s a great place to stop. I want to thank God for this sabbatical. I want to thank my church, Southside Church, for the chance to retreat, rest, recalibrate, and reflect. I want to thank God for my wife, the fountain of joy and support that she is to me. We routinely argue over who’s dying first. It’s gotta be me because I refuse to do life without her. I thank God for all of our four kids. The very thought of them fills my heart with joy and pride. God is so clearly working in their lives, writing incredible stories of love, bravery, obedience, and grace.

And I want to thank you for reading. I love that you do.

Welp. Life is full of firsts, innit?

There we were, my wife and I, sitting enjoying what had been a lovely dinner at our local steakhouse the other night. We had laughed, chatted, had a couple poignant moments around deeper life situations, and were now being presented with the bill for the meal. The innocent-looking server stood inches away from us when she dropped this question: “Was there are military or AARP y’all wanted to use?”

In stunned anguish, I looked over at my wife like I imagine I would look at her if I ever found myself in quicksand; pained, denying the reality, helpless, shocked, and yet now fully aware of the situation we were in. Or perhaps the look I imagine I’d have after just being shot in the gut. Did she just say “AARP” in our presence? Yes. Yes she did. And the damage was done.

I don’t mean to accomplish much with this blog, but if I can use my now-AARP place in life to share what I’ve learned then great. Here are a few things I’ve learned about life. This isn’t exhaustive, but it was at times exhaustING to learn. I offer it to you for what it’s worth. Fair warning: that might not be much.

1. The more I learn about anything the less I know about everything.

That goes double, no triple, no quadruple, no infinitely true when we’re talking about God. I know Him. I know things about His immutable character. I know who He is. I know what He wants. I know how loved I am by Him. But honestly, beyond that it’s much ado about mystery. I don’t even know what I mean by that, but if you know anything about God and you’re a humble(d) person, you know what I mean.

I love to learn things. I’ve been a teacher for 16 years now. I love the process of learning. I love to try and instill that love into my students. I tell every class I teach the same thing: my goal here isn’t to stuff you with answers, its to stuff you with wonder. Educationally speaking, I value questions far, FAR more than I value answers.

Here’s the thing about wonder: many of us Christians don’t seem to have much of it anymore. We often normalize the spiritual realities we walk in and in doing so reduce them to rote routine. There’s a reason for that and here’s my take on it. Distance grows when intimacy fades. My prayers grow colder the further apart they get from each other. The more conversation I’m having with God, the warmer that intimacy is. When we let the moss grow between our authentic interactions with the Almighty, the natural outcome is loss of intimacy. You know this. You live it daily. You’re closest to the ones you’re intentionally talking with most.

But there’s another layer of this knowing and not knowing thing. The closer I get to Jesus, the more in love I fall with Him, the more enamored I am with what HE desires for my life, the more head scratching happens. But not in a fretful way. No. In a wondrous, exhilarating way like the clicking of the massive chain that’s pulling this roller coaster up the first hill. What if you set your alarm tomorrow and the next day and for the next week to be the sound of that chain clicking? What if each day started with the heart-pounding acknowledgment that the God we’re in love with is best known by what we don’t know about Him?

2. There are 2 paths, then 2 more.

The gospel writer Matthew recorded Jesus’ words when he said, “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. ¹⁴ But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.” (Matthew 7:13-14)

Have you heard these words before? I won’t assume anything about you, and especially not your views on Jesus or the validity of his words. But let’s agree that IF Jesus is more than just a historical figure on par with Genghis Khan or Abraham Lincoln, and if the things that so many people (in scripture as well as outside scripture) recorded actually happened, then we’ve got to wrestle with the things Jesus said. And if what He’s saying is true…dude…we have to, HAVE TO do something about it. You can’t give Jesus the label of “more than a man” and yet dismiss the very clear teaching that there are two paths every human walks on. To do so would be not only disrespectful but disastrous. I can tell when I’m fully engaged and passionate about what I’m saying; my keystrokes get stronger and as I’m typing this, my fingers are just about pounding through this keyboard to the lovely coffee shop table it’s on. Please PLEASE readers, get this. Stop here. Assess what path you’re on right now.

I’m not a huge Zeppelin fan, but I agree with at least one line from what is perhaps they’re most well-known song, “Stairway to Heaven” when they penned… “Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run there’s still time to change the road you’re on…” So if you find yourself honestly convicted that you’re on the wide path that nearly every person on the planet is on, there’s still time to change the road you’re on. Stop here. Turn your face to Jesus the undisputed Savior of the world. He came with one mission: “To seek and save the lost.” (Luke 19:10) And friend, you might know and confess what path you’re on but if it’s the wide path then you are lost. I know that’s a very uncomfortable and even offensive thing for me to say. I know that perhaps you just stumbled onto this blog post. Maybe you were Googling a different Jerry and found me, or maybe a friend who loves you shared this with you, or maybe you might even entertain the idea that the God who loves you has orchestrated that you might hear these words at this point in your story: You are loved, you are forgiven by the death and resurrection of Jesus, you are being offered full grace for free; simply for the taking. Confess your heart to Jesus and receive the forgiveness that only He is qualified to offer all of humanity. And don’t give me “Yeah, but…” as in “Yeah, but Jerry you don’t know me. You don’t know my beliefs. You don’t know my story; the hurt I’ve endured or caused. You don’t know how far I’ve run. You don’t know what I stand to lose.” And you’re right about that. I don’t know. But I do know this: I was blind and now I can see. I was lost and now I’ve been found.

Okay, I’ve let my fingers cool off after that frenzied typing session. Now let me turn my attention to those who at some point beyond 2 minutes ago had already placed their faith in Christ. You know who you are. I’m not calling you Christians unless we’re talking about the diffused, ill-defined, nondescript, milk toast, weak kneed church-goers that many people consider “Christians”. No, I’ve released my use of the term “Christian” in our day and age because to the average person in our culture Christians are better known for what they’re against than what (or who) they’re for. Christians have been made synonymous with political parties and candidates. They’re known for their piety, their irrelevance, their and their hypocrisy. So I want to talk to those who have or have ever connected with the term “Christian”. I’ve found that as a Christian, there are two paths of Christianity we seem to walk on. One is legitimate and one is fabricated. The legitimate path can be summed up again by the words of Jesus, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” (Matthew 16:24) Jesus said much much more about the life of following Him, but that verse sums it up really well.

Yet we Christians have concocted another, safer, easier, more manageable path we try and walk on and still call it faithful followership. It’s a path devoid of the passionate conversation I spoke of earlier. It’s a path that carries out religious activity until something better, more interesting, lazier, or more convenient is available. It’s a path that downplays spiritual community and idolizes personal preferences. It’s a path marked with checkboxes we check off and thereby convince ourselves we’re doing “Christianity” right. It’s not merely shallow, it’s hollow. Those on this path are those that Jesus referred to as “white washed tombs”. (Matthew 23:27)

So follower of Jesus, how do you know you’re not in fact on the counterfeit, illegitimate path of appearing to follow Jesus? To assess, ask these questions: Am I in close contact with Jesus? Am I listened for His voice? Am I sensitive to His leading? Am I aware of the opportunities to wash the feet of the least of these and am I willing to? Do I desire what He desires? Do I offer my life to Him to do with as He pleases? Beyond all that (because I don’t believe we can reduce it to a set of questions or a formulaic faith), does God’s own Holy Spirit testify to you that you are His? “The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children.” (Romans 8:16) Do you have an unshakable peace in your heart and mind that you belong to God? I want this for you more than anything else.

3. Pastors are prone to operate in threes.

Okay, okay. This one’s weird. But have you ever noticed that most sermons have 3 main points? And how often do they start with the same letter? What is it with pastors and alliteration, anyway? Weirdos, all of them. You can freely file this under “Jerry’s loco” and I’ll gladly accept that. During this sabbatical season I’m in, I’ve thought more about how I minister to students and young adults. One thing that I want to change is, in simplest terms, ONE thing. I want my life, my interactions, and yes even my sermons to focus on one thing. One truth. One point. One takeaway. Pray for me about that. I’m prone to seek to cram my sermons with content and practicality. So I’m downshifting to one thing. Just ONE.

But I’m not even talking about sermons. I can’t bear the thought of distilling my life’s work to 30-40 minute chunks of me blabbering on, regardless of what I’m talking about. Don’t get confused here. I know (I think I do, anyway) that God has given me a passion to communicate biblical truth to God’s people. I believe I’m called to pastoral ministry and the particular act of “preaching” is one that I find compelling, important, and something I have learned I’m gifted at. And believe me I say that with full humility. I use the analogy of a neck tie, back when I was in the church setting where I’d wear a tie every Sunday. When someone compliments my tie I would say “thank you” but honestly what did I do but tie it around my neck? I had nothing to do with its creation. I’m just the doofus who’s neck its around. I view my preaching much like I view my neck tie. God has been pleased to hang it around my neck and if there’s anything good that comes from it as I seek to handle it/tie it faithfully, then bless Him not me. Look at Him, not me. Praise Him, not me. “Fr, fr” as the kids say.

As I have on the past couple of blog posts, I want to thank you if you’ve made it this for. You’re the real MVP. In terms of sabbatical accountability, I’ve been doing lots of walking and staying active but the pounds I’ve wanted to lose are fighting to stay put. I’m trying to finish the book I’m on. School work reading definitely takes my reading energy (I’ve finished one class and started the next one) so that’s slow going. I’ve been able to stay consistent in blogging weekly, as you can see. Overall, I’m gauging my level of antsiness to get back to “normal” life. To put it bluntly, I’m pretty uninterested to return to doing things as I did.

If this blog post has triggered any questions, I’d love it if you’d ask them. You can leave a comment for me to address, you can email me, or you can text me at (804) 304-4669. If there’s anything I can do for you, just say so. And as always, feel free to share this blog post with a friend. Thanks for reading.