As I mentioned a while ago, I have had quite the wrestling match with that whole D vs. E thing -- deacon vs. elder track. I've decided a couple times! I'm almost good at it! In all seriousness, I was told this is a problem area for many candidates.

I’ve been told over the years that thinking types aren’t good at pastoral care, that introverted types aren’t ideal for local church ministry, and that my strengths are in teaching, scholarship, and reformer roles. I’m an INTJ personality type with lots of years in the corporate world, so I am fully aware of the work that an I and a NT must do to be successful in social situations. I think that those with the innate ability to be social butterflies have a leg up in the elder track expectation and evaluation process, but that those who are stronger in other areas certainly can grow into the role. Several of the best pastors I know are NT folks, and they take care of the flock, so to speak, very well thank-you-very-much.

The clergy contains a lot of high F folks, a good thing I admit, though thus far I have not perceived that F folks are as keen on T folks as they are on more F folks coming down the pike. In my personal walk, I have some very T and very practical reasons for moving with slow deliberation through the seminary process. God waited a bunch of years for me to get to this point and a little longer in the process won’t hurt, I think. I feel that God doesn’t mind as long as I am moving in the right direction and not looking for opportunities to hide or run away. To a high F person, such deliberation can be seen as a lack of zeal -- why aren’t you on fire to quit your job and trust God to keep y’all in Kraft dinner?

God gave me talent and opportunity in the engineering world and I expect that God doesn’t mind me using this to full advantage for as long as I can. The church will still be there, though I also don’t want to be ridiculous with dragging it out.

The ministry needs both T and F folks, and none of us who want to be successful in ministry are ever all T or all F. God help us if we let someone through the process who has no ability to walk on the other side of their natural tendency to one or the other.

Now I’ve described some experiences I’ve had that make no sense from a T perspective. I’ve accepted them without much rationalization -- except maybe last time. I’m not sure rationalization helped me. The core of that experience was an acceptance that I bring my gifts and graces to the deacon vs. elder question and we’ll figure it out. I jumped to a decision, which is fine given the lack of imminent need to do anything with the decision, but I also began talking about it right away (so much for introversion). I might have protested too much, as the Bard of Avon says. After talking with more people and by letting a phrase said to me about my candidacy process (“don’t waver”) percolate over the past month, I’ve opened the door again to the possibility of elder track. I’ve made myself be aware of where I allow the F side to have sway (minority sway, but not in the extreme). I have noticed how I’ve reacted to events, articles, situations, and (as spectator) prayer concerns from the church where I am a member in interesting and unexpected ways.

I may be INTJ, but I think that maybe, just maybe, there’s room for an INTJ who is both cognizant of and open-hearted about the world and God’s people in the world. I need to explore the feeling/caring side of ministry in a more intentional way to assist me in discernment, and I hope to find the right ways to do this.

The deacon track is a noble and worthy cause, and I may go this way yet. I also may find in further reflection, mentoring and experiences that I am called to the “other” path in the UM world (ha ha). The important thing is to figure out where God needs me to be.

I’d like to particularly hear from T folks who have reconciled the T and F aspects of ministry. If you don’t want to comment publicly, please email me directly.

davidfirth1@mac.com

The candidacy process has been interesting thus far. A year and a half after first bringing it up to my DS, here are my thoughts.

First off, my sense of call is strong and has developed over a long period of time. Because I’ve worked through a lot of soul searching previously, the candidacy process isn’t the big revelation time that I think others expect it to be. I’m not wrestling with whether I’m called to serve, though I do wrestle with how that call will be lived out in the future. At this point in my process my mindset is more about the execution of seminary work than crossing all the t’s and dotting all the i’s of candidacy – as a part-timer in seminary I have a lot of time left in the process.

The reception from my DS and my pastor to my intention to begin this process was very good. These two persons know me pretty well, and I believe that they gave me, and continue to give me, honest support. I appreciate this. My guide through the Ministry Inquiry Process was top notch and my candidacy mentor is a source of support through highs and lows.

DCOM has been more difficult. I’m a second career candidate with 15 years in the corporate world and a third of this time in leadership, so committees generally don’t make me nervous. These DCOM folks make me nervous. I haven’t put my finger on exactly why, but I have a few ideas. (1) I don’t know the majority of them, and I expect all but a couple don’t know me. I get the feeling that I’m the object of a take-a-number, you-have-to-be-this-high-to-ride-this-ride surprisingly impersonal assembly line process where the one on one experiences (mentors and others) have been very personal. Could be misperceptions on my part, though other seminarians also describe awkward (or painful) COM experiences. (2) They are gatekeepers in a process where I distinctly feel God guiding me personally. Didn’t they get God’s memo that I’m OK (ha ha)? (3) My discernment process regarding elder or deacon track – when I mentioned deacon the temperature went down in the room a few degrees. I get the distinct feeling that some persons with whom I’ve interacted thus far prefer elder track folks with strong Meyers-Briggs “F” characteristics. More on this later. I will figure out how to make connections with them as we walk together and as I learn from them and as they learn about me.

Seminary has been a good experience thus far. My studies are limited by my night and weekend track, but it is not the time in my personal life to approach seminary (and candidacy) in any more aggressive way. My call “happened to” my family and it is a balancing act to figure out the best way to proceed. The first year was loaded with Biblical studies work, an area in which I have a lot of interest. This was not by design, but came together due to the opportunity to go to Israel. I have no regrets; next year I pick up pastoral care and other study areas next year.

I look forward to what’s next.

Experiencing God 3

Thursday, February 19, 2009

I've been told that introverted folks tend to experience God during times of deep reflection, and my experiences back up this claim. I don't know how deep reflection can be and still drive down the road, but my latest God moment occurred at 45 mph on a curvy back road.

A year ago I thought that I had it all figured out (won't be the last time, I am certain). I was going to pursue candidacy as a Deacon and build upon my past education and work experiences to serve God's people and God's church in some yet to be revealed way. As I got closer to my first meeting with DCOM I spent considerable effort looking at Deacon and Elder paths and came to a decision (in consultation with a few others) about a week before the meeting. When asked if I had one or the other path in mind I answered Elder. I firmly believe that the faith community is central to Christian experience, and believed that I had discovered the people, the “who,” from my God experience a year or so before. I was going to work toward parish ministry and serve the church in a traditional manner at some future point.

For the past year each time I have answered the same question from someone I have had more trouble answering it the same way. This difficulty is not general. My perception of call is as strong or stronger than when I began this journey (praise God), and my desire to serve the United Methodist Church is also strong (God help me). It is my perception of the right vocational path for me and the best fit of me for the glory of God and the benefit of God's people that is in question.

After a couple weeks of this issue being on my mind heavily, after a good session with my mentor (this issue was not specifically raised but our topic helped me greatly), and listening to some appointed folks tell me about their normal pastoral duties, I was running things through my mind while driving. And, as God will do, my God moment came in an unexpected place at an unexpected time. I perceived that my thoughts were not just my thoughts. I was thinking that I was right the first time and that the path of an Elder is not the best fit. Each time I raised a point/idea/thought in my mind, the response was immediate and gentle: “my people need you.” This was the phrase I heard in the night a few years ago. This cycle continued a few times. The same response each time: “my people need you.” Then, letting go of control of the situation, of past statements, of others' expressed expectations, of trying to be the decider of my path, I thought something on the lines of “so I can just bring my gifts and graces to the table and we'll figure it out?” Submission. The response was strange and wonderful. It was unspoken. It was felt. All I can say is that the presence that I was experiencing moved, and it was like experiencing the joy energy that is a smile from another. The heightened energy came from outside of me, enveloped me, and left. I was alone again in the car, doing 45 mph. The whole thing, end to end, was probably only seconds, but it felt longer.

I don't pretend to understand the experiences that I have had, and I do not claim to know why God wants me, an analytical-artsy-intellectual-progressive-INTJ-former-engineer, but I am firmly convinced that God has something for me to do and that this something requires the commitment of time, energy and resources that I am putting into a Methodist Theological School in Ohio M.Div. and the pursuit of candidacy. Today my mind is at peace, and that peace comes with a feeling that my initial perception of my vocational path, as a Deacon, was most likely correct. I will explore this further in the near future.

Experiencing God 2: The Labyrinth

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

"When you walk in the darkness you do not know where you are going." Jn 12:35b (NRSV)

A labyrinth is meant to focus your thoughts so that you may be open to reflection and prayer.

The verse, above, seems apropos to a labyrinth experience I had while on a mission trip at the Hinton Rural Life Center in Hayesville, NC, because I walked the labyrinth at night while thinking through some things. I walked in darkness, literally and figuratively, that evening.

Nighttime can be reflective time for me. The night tends to be when the busy-ness of the day fades into the background for a while. I felt compelled to walk the labyrinth that particular night. I grabbed a flashlight from the car and went.

Hinton’s labyrinth is tucked away between the main parking lot and one of their retreat buildings. The path to it is lit, but the labyrinth itself is not. Gray and red pavers mark the path, but as the contrast between the colors is poor (even in the daylight), I had to force myself to concentrate to remain on the path. My jumble of thoughts gave way to some order as I walked. By the time I reached the center I had mentally reached a point where I could feel that I was not alone in my existence, in my thoughts, and in my troubles.

Prayer at the center of the labyrinth is meant to be reflective, the midpoint of the spiritual discipline. I was still wrestling through some things in my mind when I had a of moment of profound clarity, a transcendent and powerful moment. It was as if everything stood still and became part of the background except my relationship with God. I felt connected to ‘all that is’ in that moment; the mental wrestling stopped and my thoughts converged -- then I was suddenly aware once again of being in the center of that labyrinth in Western North Carolina. I could hear the breeze through the trees and the night sounds.

I stayed in the center for a little longer, then I walked the path back through the labyrinth and out into the real world once again.

You should try to walk a labyrinth sometime. You may find your own peace in this spiritual discipline or you may not.

Experiencing God 1: Voice in the Night

Monday, June 25, 2007

The beginning of Jesus’ ministry is described in the Gospel of Mark, the oldest of the 4 canonical Gospels, as an experienced event. Yet, most Christians are very uncomfortable with any talk of experiencing God in any visual or auditory sense. When anyone does describe anything close to a visual or auditory event the usual reaction is immediate -- body language cues and verbal responses tend to say “you must be crazy.”

Readers of the Bible find experiences of God liberally throughout the scriptures. To those who read the Bible with a bias toward metaphorical interpretation it is easy to dismiss such declarations as the way writers in their own time and place get their extraordinary points across. I am generally one of these readers -- my head leads my heart.

However, those who have had these experiences describe them as very real. When I hear one of these persons talk, I know that whatever they have experienced, their lives have been touched somehow. What they take away from these experiences tends to be used to better their connection with “all that is”, or if you prefer, Ultimate Reality or God.

I have generally been skeptical of the reality of these experiences outside of the comfortable context of semi-objective academic examination. I’ve not been a proponent of scriptural interpretation that literally says that the baptism experience of Jesus was a voice from above, though the treatment in Mark is easier for me to deal with than the more public treatment in Matthew. Skepticism is built into the Enlightenment-driven world view that I’ve inherited and that fits my NT personality type. World views don’t change easily without overwhelming external stimulus.

I’ve often felt the presence of God, Ultimate Reality, or a connection with “all that is” when I hiked or camped. The natural world, free (at least on the surface) from obvious human manipulation, seemed to be the perfect place for such experiences. However, the most real experience of mine wasn’t abstract and wasn’t awe at the sight in some beautiful natural setting.

I woke up with a start about a year ago with a phrase on my mind, so clear and direct as if I’d had someone shove me awake, looked me straight in the eye and said it. I couldn’t get it out of my head and I tried to rationalize it away. I tried to chalk it up to a dream, an artifact of a favorite hymn that contains similar phrasing (Here I Am, Lord), or to eating the wrong thing too late at night (not really). The phrase? “My people need you.” It has stayed stuck in my mind and is easily recalled -- not as clearly or direct, but not diminished to the point of being filed away. It just won’t go away.

I was 1 year into the Lay Ministry Academy at the time and was already committed to following through with the process. I had already recognized a call to more active and involved ministry in the local church. What more was I to do?

The thing about these experiences is that despite the clarity of the moment and the powerful implications, there isn’t enough clarity to tell me what to do. Who are the people? In what way is my involvement applicable to their need(s)? Am I to take on some task, some role, or champion some cause? How much change is required? There were no answers given. There is no written direction, no punch list of things to complete.

I am more hesitant now to set aside others’ stories of experiences of God when they are brave enough to say anything. I can set head-thinking aside to allow heart-feeling to have some say, because in the night, through 4 little words, I had one of my own.