Moving and Ministry
by Bill Ireland
Years ago one of my favorite teachers once quipped that the only thing that stood between us and the will of God was a U-Haul trailer! Several decades in ministry and multiple moves have brought home the truth of that saying. We know the drill: the Spirit stirs, a church issues a call, and we start packing. As exciting as the prospect of a new opportunity is, moving is one of the least enjoyable aspects of ministry. Moving to another place of service offers up a strange concoction of unbridled joy and unmitigated drudgery.
Over the last month I have made what I hope will be my last ministry-related move. Although exciting, it’s also required a lot of work, and the process has brought to the forefront some lessons that may apply to the work of ministry itself.
For one, I have learned yet again the cumulative effect of small tasks. Thinking about packing up an entire house can be intimidating and overwhelming. The sheer enormity of executing a move often paralyzes us, and we don’t know where to start. Once we overcome the inertia, we are often unable to make headway because we dart from one thing to another. But the way to pack up the house is the same as “eating the elephant:” instead of one bite at a time, we pack up one room at a time, one box at a time. Those focused labors add up to something. Eventually we get everything in the house ready to go.
Taken in the aggregate, the work of ministry can be overwhelming, and try as we might, we can’t do it all at once. Yes, the budget needs attention. What about building renovations? The church is searching for new staff ministers. We have to handle all of that while trying to lead, preach, and offer pastoral care. Since pastors are among the last general practitioners around, we have to tend to it all. But not by next Tuesday. Instead, let’s think about working on a box at a time, a task at a time. Taken altogether, those small steps will add up to something significant.
As well, this latest move has resurfaced a truth scripture frequently asserts. Namely, chaos and upheaval are the necessary prerequisites for the emergence of something new. Perhaps our present homes are comfortable and provide a welcome refuge from the grind. If so, it’s because we’ve invested a lot in making sure everything goes together: the furniture, the color scheme, and even the pictures on the wall. As a result, our homes fit us—everything has its place, and we belong there. Moving, however, requires that we dismantle all of the beauty, comfort. and stability. Moving requires a descent into chaos. Boxes and packing tape everywhere. Dishes out of cabinets. Beds taken apart. Nothing is where it should be. To make matters worse, the chaos on the front end is matched by the chaos on the back end. Stuff has to come out of boxes. We make stacks and piles until we figure out what goes where. But all of this chaos serves a good end. A new opportunity. A new place of service.
In ministry, some things have to be dismantled before something new can emerge. As Jesus himself taught, new wine requires new wineskins. Sadly, churches have a bad habit of starting things they believe will remain permanent. As leaders, it’s our job to prod and provoke, to ask “why?” and thus inject some healthy chaos into the system so that something new can come forth. It’s hard work, and it’s not always fun. But unless we’re willing to put up with a little upheaval, nothing will ever change and certainly not for the better.
A third lesson. As we begin to make our new house our home, we’re often in a rush to get things squared away. We put the sofa here, the table there, and hang our favorite portrait on this wall or that. This is natural because we’re inclined toward order. We have to arrange things so we can function. Nevertheless, as we make our new house a home, we realize that our first arrangements weren’t always the best. The chest we thought fit a certain space really belongs elsewhere. The way we arranged the closet, or our kitchen doesn’t suit.
Likewise, our first plans and our first thoughts about how we go about our work are not always best. Effectiveness in ministry depends on our willingness to rearrange things. To be sure, doing ministry well requires faithfulness to habits acquired over time. But to stick with something that no longer works or when a new and better idea emerges is the very definition of foolishness. We’re at our best when we officiate at funerals for ideas that looked good at the time but have since outlived their usefulness. It’s okay to wonder, even if something is going well, if there might be a better way to do it.
Finally, once the movers have deposited all our belongings in our new home, chaos descends once more. While disruption is a necessary prelude to healthy change, most of us can’t live with everything in utter disarray for long. Over the many moves Ginny and I have made together, I’ve seen that we take special care to set up the kitchen, bath, and bedroom first. That has been our way of carving out small islands of stability while everything else is who knows where. We can stand all the mess as long as a room or two are straight.
Again, as with moving so with ministry. If lots of things are coming unglued at once, one thing is certain: we can’t come unglued! The only way I know to keep myself intact and maintain a grip on my soul and my sanity is to carve out some well-tended space apart from all the chaos. The order I find there enables me to cope with all the disorder elsewhere.
Yes, the only thing that stands between us and the will of God is a U-Haul trailer. Whether we’ve been in our place of service ten months or ten years, we will serve well if we undertake “an adventure in moving” from time to time as we think best about how to fulfill our calling.