Why I Do What I Do

Once in a while, I read something that perfectly encapsulates my feelings in a way that I wish I could have expressed them.  

The other day, I read a quote from former Olympic cycling gold medalist Kristin Armstrong that did just that, and I'd like to share it.  Here's what she said: 

I write about the power of trying, because I want to be okay with failing. I write about generosity because I battle selfishness. I write about joy because I know sorrow. I write about faith because I almost lost mine, and I know what it is to be broken and in need of redemption. I write about gratitude because I am thankful - for all of it.

I've never read anything that summed up why I do what I do any better than this.  Honestly, I could interchange the words "preach" and "teach" with "write," and it would still be true for me.  

It took me a long time to truly understand the depth of my calling to be a pastor. When you're young, you sometimes follow your gut without much introspection about what is at the heart of it. 

Now that I am a bit more seasoned, I have come to understand that my purpose in life, what drives me every single day, is to be vulnerable in my role as a pastor and open about the struggles I have had and the ones I face daily.  

Some so many people have given up on Christianity, walked away from the Church, and even let go of their belief in God because they were made to feel less than in their faith communities about their own challenges. 

I want to continue making space for them in my church. I want them to know there is another way to stake a claim to the Christian faith—one that isn't full of judgment and shame. I want to keep doing whatever I can to show them that God's grace is bigger than we could imagine. 

Years ago, another pastor told me I should never let my congregation "see the cracks in my armor." I'm so glad that I ignored that advice. In fact, I decided that I couldn't be a pastor if I was being asked to wear armor.  

It reminds me of the story of David and Goliath when King Saul tried to give David his armor before he went out to face the giant. The armor didn't fit and slowed him down too much, so he just went out into the field without it.  

Sometimes, to turn what others believe to be your liabilities into assets, you have to shed the armor and walk out on the field in vulnerability.  

So often, we search for meaning in the things that happen to us, the sorrows, betrayals, tragedies, and dark nights of the soul.  And occasionally we are able to see how what befell us was for our ultimate good.  

But sometimes, there are no immediate answers. This is when we can repurpose our pain into something life-giving and transformative.  When we share our stories, uncover our fears, talk about our struggles, and offer up our experiences, we give others hope that can only come from vulnerability.  

We don't have to have it all figured out when we open ourselves up.  There are times when what is needed by others is to know that we are still in progress and are fellow pilgrims with them in this thing we call life. 

May it be so, and may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with us now and always. Amen.