You Can't Turn it Off

In my Clinical Pastoral Education review, my seminary professor wrote these words, "Kevin will need to realize there is never a time he is not pastor."

I scoffed. 

I need to re-evaluate my reaction.

Friday is my day off.  I stick to it tediously unless there is a wedding or funeral or other such emergency I am called to deal with.  Some pundits argue that a pastor should avoid complete contact with his or her congregation members completely on his/her day off.  Those pundits don't live in a rurual community where if you walk outside the door of your house, you see congregaton members. :-)  But that is beside the point.

My congregation is exceptional when it comes to understanding their pastor's need for recreation and rest.  I applaud them for honoring my day off and allowing me to spend time with my family and taking care of myself on my day off.  I have freedom to work outside, play computer games, or do whatever I need to do without interruption.

But one thing I have begun to discover is that you can't simply hang up your pastor's hat and forget what you do and who you are.  It's almost impossible.

Last Friday, I decided to do some work on our rent house in Bellville.  The attic severly needed a layer of insulation in it.  The one inch in the attic wasn't going to cut it for the long term.  A trip to Lowe's to purchase blow in insulation and rent the blower was easily accomplished.

My wife met me at the house, and while my son played in the backyard, we blew shredded junk into the attic to lower my renter's bills and hopefully add to the value of our property. 

Just as we were finishing up, our renter came home from a shopping trip.  My wife needed to go pick up our middle child from pre-K, and so I stayed to clean up the mess made by our work.

That's when the pastoral hat was forced back on my head.

My renter needed to talk.

She was in the midst of some very troubling stuff.  Stuff that was weighing her down tremendously.

My wife picked up my daughter and then picked up Sonic.  She dropped my meal back off at the house.

My renter and I continued to talk.

An hour and a half later, we finished visiting.  She needed it. 

Now, I realize that I could have told her to make an appointment with me.  I could have told her, "My office hours are 8 to 1, Monday through Thursday, and you can call me anytime to make an appointment.  My day off is Friday, so I really don't want to talk about this stuff today."  I could have.  But...

She is unchurched, and one must always be congnizant of what message one sends when dealing with someone who is in a fragile emotional state.  If I would have cut her off and held my boundaries absolutely firm, she might have never wanted to frequent a church another day in her life.  Would she have ever given the Christian faith another chance when she needed spiritual and emotional guidance, and a leader in that faith shut her off because he didn't want to play the part of pastor at that moment in time?

And perhaps that's the kicker: "play the part of pastor."  It's not a play.  It's not an act.  It's a calling.  It's a state of being. 

I tend the flock of Jesus Christ, and I have a designated part of that flock called St. John Lutheran Church of Cat Spring.  But there are other members of that flock--those who are slightly connected and those who God wants to be connected to it.  And it is my responsibility to tend to them as well.  Not to the point where it absolutely exhausts me to do so, but to be available and open when the Spirit leads me to them.

"Kevin needs to realize there is never a time when he is not pastor."

I understand that statement now.

You can't turn it off.

Just like you can't turn off being a Christian.

Yeah, I know it would be nice to hang that hat up for a week or so.  It would be nice to be able to turn that one off too.  Hang up the responsibility of loving one's neighbor, praying for one's enemies, and all those other tasks we are called to do. 

It would be nice to be able to turn it off and slip into moral avarice for a week, two, or even a month. 

But that's not how it works either.

It's a state of being.

Not an act.

At least it shouldn't be.

You can't turn it off.