The Disillusioned Church Planter
I am weirdly at peace with my tiny church in a world that only celebrates the skinny jeaned booming success stories.
I am weirdly at peace with my tiny church in a world that only celebrates the skinny jeaned booming success stories.
The point is I was tired before the weekend even began and part of me wanted to just stay home, curl up in a blanket and binge watch.
I find myself having those days more and more. Whether it’s from my mile-long to-do list or a newsfeed of political divisiveness, or crazy raccoons, I have too many days where I just want to sit down, or lie down.
I’m not saying I want to quit completely, I just want to ride the pine for a little while ya know? Sit on the sidelines and watch the game while I take a breather. Ever felt that way?
I have been at pastors’ wives retreats and leadership events/trainings where dealing with the loneliness of ministry has been a topic of discussion. I never really understood it.
It seems I have served in some capacity of ministry my entire life, and I have never felt lonely in ministry… until now.
I am a white, middle class, christian, American woman. I have watched and listened the past couple of weeks as people have demanded to be seen and heard. I have remained quiet. I have not remained quiet because I do not believe black lives matter. I have not remained quiet because I believe our police force is corrupt and racist. […]
I was not sad that I had been stereotyped. I was sad the stereotype existed, but not for the reason you would think. My sadness was not that people are stereotyping “church people,” my emotion came because of the truth about some stereotypes.
I never acquired the taste for coffee. I know this sounds like insanity to all my joyfully caffeinated friends. In fact, a few may have stopped reading after that first sentence. Because I am not a coffee drinker, I don’t have a single hot beverage on most days. This is why Thursday was so unique. I had not just one, but three cups […]
I am not a Facebook post, a selfie, or photoshopped image. I am a human- flawed, broken, and beautiful. I come closer to being whole when I am with other flawed, broken, and beautiful humans.
I wish I could say I am rocking this middle phase the way my son is, but I find myself fluctuating between complete confidence in exactly where we are and utter terror because we are neither where we used to be nor where we are headed.
With age comes wisdom, and I am learning to let some things go (apparently, being cool is one of them). I am learning not to strain so hard to see everything down the road.