Tiredness that hurts

Tonight, I am not tired from the pace of this work.
The pace is grueling. But sometimes, after a series of back-to-back commitments, I am elated. I recognize what it means to be tired in a healthy way.
But tonight, the tiredness isn't healthy. The tiredness is from discouragement. Deep, profound discouragement. And the overlay of discouragement to weariness is not a prelude to peaceful sleep.
Why the tiredness...discouragement?
I'm tired of the petty squabbling in churches.
I'm tired of constant negative energy born of entitlement, personal preferences and ego.
I'm tired of Christians acting worse than pagans in attitudes and actions.
I'm tired of people who feel that their hurt feelings give them license for any kind of mean-spirited comment or action.
And I'm really tired of people who are thoughtless and unkind to their pastor and then think I should do something based on their prejudices.
I'm tired of people who think that they are entitled to have their way no matter how selfish or unchristlike that way is.
I'm tired of the contentiousness of the culture shaping the church instead of the other way around.
I'm tired of people who try to wear their rudeness or crudeness or attacks as badges of honor and try to inflame others to the same kind of patently unchristian attitude.
I'm tired of church people who won't stand up for what is right; who -- out of weariness--give in to the loudest complainer, who side with the falsehood, the exaggeration, the rumor.
This is the kind of tiredness that cuts to the soul.
It's the kind of tiredness that is going to kill the church if we don't change our ways.
It's the kind of tiredness that causes casualties in the ranks of our more dedicated pastors and laity. It's a tiredness that is abominably self-absorbed in light of the great challenges before us -- the suffering around us and across the world, rampant injustice, abiding prejudices, the grip of poverty, the trauma of accidents and disease and sorrow.
And I'm tired of the repetition of selfish, self-absorbed, wounded egos.
Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. And teach me to have mercy, too.

Pretty remarkable...

My father will be 88 in November. I am the long-distance one in the family so I keep in touch by calling him every night. I am always inspired by his interest in politics, current church events and the personal connections he is always making as Minister in Residence at my "home" church in Frankfort.
With the pace of superintendency, my schedule is always stretched to the limit. But today, Daddy takes the cake. My schedule pales in comparison. This morning, he was meeting with the Coffee Club at 10:00 a.m. (Frankfort's long-standing solve-the-problems-of-the-world group), the swearing in of a family friend to a judgeship at 11:00; Rotary at noon; 1:00 he has a part in a funeral and tonight, he has Methodist Men. That's quite a whirlwind for someone of any age. But isn't it wonderful that all those things describe the schedule of someone born in 1921! It is a great joy to me that Daddy not only is living--especially since longevity is not a trait in his family--but that he has such a high quality of life.
So today, I am celebrating that his busy schedule leaves mine in the dust. A blessing indeed!

So blessed....

Most preachers kids don't have a hometown. With Methodist ministers committed to go where they are sent, most of us have moved around all our lives.

I am one of the lucky ones.
I have a hometown.



Frankfort, Kentucky.


Daddy moved to Frankfort 1st UMC in 1962 and served at that church for 10 years. Then, our family just moved across town to the District parsonage (very close to his present retirement home) where he was the DS of the Frankfort District for 6 years.





So our family grew up in this scenic, historic town. Although Daddy served two Central Kentucky appointments after his time on the District, after 16 years in the capital city, we have always felt like Frankfort was home.

Since Daddy retired here--as well as both my sister and brother living here--Frankfort is, truly my home town. And coming here is always renewing, uplifting and restoring for me.


I am feeling a loss of roots in this new position I am in. Serving churches across a three county area is very different from being grounded as a pastor in a church. Being in one (or more) different churches every Sunday is a different type of experience. Being back in my hometown reminds me of the roots I carry with me from place to place.

Most preachers kids don't have a hometown.
I am grateful that I do.