I was part of a clegy support group a few years ago, and we were meeting at the beginning of December. As is the habit of minsters during Advent, we were grumbling about how many activities we had added on to our schedules, how much pressure we felt during the “holiday” season, and how little of it had to do with what we considered ministry. At some point I said, apparently with some energy, “Don’t you just hate December?” And they all leaned away from me with shocked expressions. Finally someone said “No-o-o” rather slowly and we went on to another topic. It’s just Richard, he’s a little weird sometimes.
So I shut up about it. And I have to admit it’s gotten better for me. But I refuse to believe that I am the only person in the world who endures rather than enjoys December. We’re all apt to complain about “materialism” when we talk about Christmas as it’s usually celebrated, but it’s more than that—it’s that everything seems to go out of focus. Even when we are at our most generous it seems to have more to do with the season as popularly conceived than with the birth of Christ.
What I’ve come to rely on is the Advent texts. Preaching, not to put too fine a point on it, keeps me sane. The readings for the four Sundays before Christmas, whatever they do for the congregation, sharpen my own focus, especially as they have very little to do with shepherds and mangers and wise men and more to do with judgment and grace.
The other spiritual discipline I observe during Advent is to read W.H. Auden’s Christmas Oratorio, For the Time Being. It’s a long, difficult poem, not for everyone, but it always speaks to me.
On a lighter note, I have a Grinch tie for every Sunday this month. It’s a reminder to me that what the Grinch objected to was the “noise, noise, noise NOISE” (I can relate) but also that the Grinch’s heart was two sizes too small. I get it. I really do.
Showing posts with label Musings on Ministry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Musings on Ministry. Show all posts
Monday, December 7, 2009
Monday, November 30, 2009
Time Management
What I remember about my first few years in ministry is not being too busy; it’s not being busy enough. I had just come out of a highly-structured environment—seminary—and gone into a rural area to serve two small churches where the only regular structure of my week consisted of two worship services. I had to figure out how to plan my weeks, and I didn’t do a very good job of it. I did a lot of studying, because I enjoy it and it comes naturally to me (I know, I know), but I didn’t really know how to fill up the rest of the week with useful occupation that still gave me time for my family. So I read books on pastoral ministry, talked to other pastors, blundered around a lot, and finally settled into a pattern that worked pretty well for a long time.
Several years later I took a course in time management at a community college. The course was designed for business people but I got a lot of good information out of it, and learned some skills I’m still using. Perhaps the most important piece came on the last day, as the instructor intended that it would. “There’s really no such thing as time management,” he said, “because everyone has the same amount of time—168 hours a week. What we call ‘time management’ is really self management.”
The most important element in self management, at least in my experience, is prayer. My prayer life was spotty at best, even after graduating from a seminary that stressed the spiritual disciplines. It wasn’t until I found myself preaching on prayer that I realized that if I was going to tell the congregation to pray that I had better start doing it myself. Again, I read books, talked to other people, blundered around a lot, and finally found a way of praying that works for me.
Most of us in the ministry have to manage ourselves. We get the same number of hours as everyone else. I tend to see that as a constraint, but I’m trying to learn to see it as a gift. God didn’t need to give me anything, but God gave me 168 hours a week—time to eat, time to sleep, time to work and time to play. I can control about 80% of how that time is spent (another learning from the time management class); I try to see the other 20%, not as intrusion or interruption, but as opportunity for ministry. I admit that’s not always easy, but it seems to work, most of the time.
What works for you?
Several years later I took a course in time management at a community college. The course was designed for business people but I got a lot of good information out of it, and learned some skills I’m still using. Perhaps the most important piece came on the last day, as the instructor intended that it would. “There’s really no such thing as time management,” he said, “because everyone has the same amount of time—168 hours a week. What we call ‘time management’ is really self management.”
The most important element in self management, at least in my experience, is prayer. My prayer life was spotty at best, even after graduating from a seminary that stressed the spiritual disciplines. It wasn’t until I found myself preaching on prayer that I realized that if I was going to tell the congregation to pray that I had better start doing it myself. Again, I read books, talked to other people, blundered around a lot, and finally found a way of praying that works for me.
Most of us in the ministry have to manage ourselves. We get the same number of hours as everyone else. I tend to see that as a constraint, but I’m trying to learn to see it as a gift. God didn’t need to give me anything, but God gave me 168 hours a week—time to eat, time to sleep, time to work and time to play. I can control about 80% of how that time is spent (another learning from the time management class); I try to see the other 20%, not as intrusion or interruption, but as opportunity for ministry. I admit that’s not always easy, but it seems to work, most of the time.
What works for you?
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