Dispatch #15
Monday, September 9
Alexandria, Minnesota

680 miles. Yesterday's ride enjoyed a strong south by southwest wind allowing me to make 66 miles in a little over 3 hours--pedaling north; but when I turned into the wind a mere 4 miles took almost a half hour.

One of the deepest pleasures of this slow crawl among the congregations is the opportunity to talk with my colleague pastors. In my heart is developing a map of faith and service and interest and isolation and affection and grief and difficulty. Each pastor reveals her and his own personality; but the congregations shape their various senses of ministry. Many I meet have remained in their present posts as long as 15, 20, 35 years; others are still building relationships.

Many, when I speak with them, permit a personal vulnerability. Others maintain a professional demeanor; we would have to linger longer over supper or an evening table. And the division between these two is about equal.

There is a marked offering of kindness: but some offer a personal kindness, others the kindness of their churches, others the kindness of their offices--and among these three sources (these three attitudes) of kindness, great chasms can fall. This last observation is for me perhaps the most crucial regarding my own ministry. It never occurred to me before that there was such a manifest difference, and that the quality of the kindness would have such various consequences.

"Of the church" (pastor as representative of the people served) will smack much of what this pastor believes the character of her congregation to be: this could be bitten, begrudged, limited; or this could be generous and unjudging; but the pastor's involvement is (in her own unconscious estimate) minimal--neither blame nor praise of her. Or him. Relationship to the one who needs this kindness, likewise, protects the person of the pastor.

"Of the office" (pastor acting as he believes his vocation requires it of him) depends for sincere relationship on what this pastor thinks the ministerial vocation is at core. Preaching? Administration? Study? Liturgy? Spontaneous actions of kindness will have a low heat; a sense of having been interrupted could very well dominate the act. Even a pastor whose preeminent service embraces social causes--if such commitment does not derive from a love for Christ and a love for the people whom Christ represents--will present a kindness of some official taint. But if ministry truly means loving in the name of Jesus Christ, this kindness may derive from a source deep and exhaustless.

According to my own experience, however, the kindness arising spontaneously from the person of the pastor--yea, though it is filtered through the definitions of vocation, filtered through the character of the congregation, as it must be--convinces me most that I, the recipient, am met as an equal of the giver, am granted in the transaction my full personhood as well, and may trust the width and length of the human (the faithful human) service yet to be, whether to me or to others of my condition. This kindness, I mightily suppose, fountains up from the personal, as opposed to vocational, relationship which this pastor has with the Lord Jesus, in prayer, in delight, in radiant trust.

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Rain last night. Cloudy this morning. I will change and cycle from this resort on Lake Mary to Alexandria, there to conduct a radio interview, and then to meet with folks who want to chat over lunch. Next I leave for Fergus Falls. This isn't that far away (a little over 50 miles as the bicycle wheel rolls); but the time got squeezed terribly tight: there may be folks waiting to meet me there at four, for a ride and a chat.

Peace to all my colleague clerics. Know in your hearts how much honor I have for you and your labors. This I say with fervor; for my having been a pastor gives me a severely accurate insight into those labors--and I cannot imagine a better company in which to serve here on earth and sail hereafter into paradise. My sisters and my brothers, our associations are powerful and good.

Walt