My father didn't want me to be a pastor, and for a long time I was angry about that. Now I understand. He didn't want me to experience the pain that he had.
It is acceptable to freely and sometimes brutally criticize the pastor. My oldest brother used to say that people went to work and got dehumanized by their own bosses, so they'd come to church and take it out on the pastor. Things people wouldn't say to their worst enemy was ok to say to the pastor-- after all, they're supposed to be so holy that they can take anything. They can be criticized about everything from the kind of car the pastor drives, what he/she wears, what kind of music they like, how they keep the house, what restaurants she/he goes to, who they're friends with, how they raise their children, how many times they visit the nursing home, what hymns they choose and how many, how fat or thin they are, etc. It's all free game.
My father experienced it, and inevitably so did I. That person who for some reason unknown even to them, hates the pastor. So they openly criticize the pastor in meetings, behind her back, or block any efforts they make to get something done. And others, even those who disagree, choose not to speak up. The pastor is on his own. One person can bring down a pastor, much less a church. I've seen it happen again and again.
You may think I exaggerate these things. I grew up in the Church as a pastor's kid and lived in parsonages all my life. I saw my father and mother go off into a room and lock the door to "dialogue" about things that were happening in the church that they wanted to protect me from knowing. I saw my father suffer great pain at the hands of parishioners who decided he wasn't Christian enough, didn't bring in enough new members, or thought he was soft. I saw my mother suffer alone in the midst of ongoing conflicts in the church without a friend she could confide in. I felt the tension of making Dad look good to his parishioners and all four of us kids couldn't live up to the ideals of the perfect kid.
I went into it because I was called into it. I went through much of the same things that my father went through and more. I ran into conflict with the Church of Scientology-- who'da thunk? I had an SPRC committee ask me to pay them for the Sunday I missed while being bedridden during my pregnancy when I was bleeding and I was interrogated as to how much time I expected to spend with this coming baby and would it interfere with my church work?
I served a church where my predecessor had an affair with a parishioner and the church was angry that he was removed, and took that anger out on me and my co-pastor husband. More than once I was sent to a parish where I made less than a full-time salary and had to leave that situation to avoid bankruptcy.
I even lived in a parsonage that had snakes in the living room sometimes.
I still believe God called me into ministry back in 1989-- the experience was undeniable. I pray that my work was fruitful and inspired by God. But I also believe that God called me to a different form of ministry, that God led me out of the Church. My years in the Church are still a huge part of who I am, and I hope to write more about the good parts, the good people and the images of God at work that I did experience. I often used to joke that it was hard to be a pastor and a Christian at the same time. But I knew it wasn't a joke. I finally had to get out of it in order to save my own soul, my own relationship with God. In the last couple of years I knew it was killing me. It's an impossible job.
When I left I didn't know if I could ever be a part of any church, but I know that my relationship with God is too much a part of me to be discarded. I doubt I can be a United Methodist again, but I am a child of God, and I will continue to allow God to lead me in ways that I can serve God and nurture my faith in ways that give life. If I'd stayed, I'd be bitter. I'm not bitter. I'm ready to live honestly and generously and fully.
It's a new year. Peg
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