Is 'Fun' a Ministry Word?
Is 'Fun' a Ministry Word?
Why pastors stay pastors. Or not.
Bruce Springsteen recently sold his life’s work - his entire musical catalog - to Sony for a half-billion dollars. By every metric available, Springsteen at age 74 has no need to work another day. So how is he spending his post-windfall days? Touring. Playing music to massive crowds. He continues to do what he has always done.
And some of us ask, “Why?” Why does Harrison Ford star once again as Indiana Jones at age 81? Why does a 75 year old Stephen King write yet another book? And why, oh why, do we continue in ministry?
It’s the question we’ve asked since the very first post of Greatheart’s Table. Why do we keep doing what we are doing when, if we are honest, we often think of quitting?
For years my answer has been some form of, “I’m called.” I believe that this matters, and were I to come close to leaving ministry I’d at some point need to revisit my ordination vows and recall that I did not sign up for a short term gig. On the other hand, I also know that if I wanted to, I could convince myself in a hundred different ways that I made a mistake when I took those vows. The “I’m called” line of reasoning is a strong one, but isn’t really the full story.
Flannery O’Connor famously answered the question of why she was a writer by saying, “I’m good at it.” Some of us may share that level of confidence. But the rest of us who entertain quitting do so because we don’t think we are good enough.
Could it possibly be that, like Springsteen and others, we continue to do what we do because we enjoy it?
My dear friend Carol travels frequently to Africa to teach pastoral couples how to survive together in ministry. When people ask this 80+ year old woman how long she plans to keep doing this, she lists three criteria: if the money continues to be there, if her body continues to permit it, and if it continues to be fun. And you and I might balk at the idea of ‘fun’ being a ministry word. But properly understood, I think she is on to something.
Years ago my wife, Barb, and I started a business supplying freshly baked cinnamon rolls to coffee shops, business meetings, and parties. When I told my brother, Roger, semi-retired from a career advising entrepreneurs, that Barb and I were having fun with this, he stopped me. “‘Fun,’” he said, “is NOT a business word.” If ‘fun’ is any part of the objective of a business endeavor, foolish decisions, particularly with regard to perseverance, will ensue.
The point he made is rooted in biblical realities. No matter how much fun Adam might have had gathering his food in Eden, out of Eden, God told him, “by the sweat of your face you shall eat bread.” (Genesis 3:19) The curse applies across the board. Those who sell shower curtain rings and those who preach sermons will all face tedium and difficulty and struggle. But can there still be fun? Even my brother when he began his retirement opened a Woodcraft franchise in Orlando partly because he loved woodworking. Even he could not escape the idea of enjoyment in what we do.
None of us speak of ministry as fun in the sense that playing board games (for some) or cooking breakfast food (for others) is fun. But pastoral ministry can be enjoyable. There are times I’ve walked into my house, given Barb a hug, and through tears choked out, “I get to do this.”
But there are other, harder times when I’ve walked into the house with an impenetrable cloud hanging about me. At times I’ve wanted out so badly that had there been a clear path to do so, I would have taken it. These are the scary times which have led to scary outcomes for some pastors, for which we each need safe friends to turn to and lean on. Fun, then, in ministry is a perk, but one hardly sufficient to counterbalance the thick darkness, and spiritual intensity that many bear.
What in the end lifts us above the sweat and sorrow of any occupation, writing, music, or ministry, is an enjoyment that is rooted in some sense of satisfaction. We stay at it not because we are good at it, but because there is good in it. The good of what we do may not be widely visible, and it probably will not be greatly valued by those whose favor we covet. But now and again, to revisit the fact that ministry, while hard, is good, may restore our sense of satisfaction with, and even our love for, what we do.
And if I could sell my back-catalog of sermons for a hefty price, that would be all the better.