Confessions of an Unemployed
Minister - Part 11 : Part Time Pastor
As our host church decided to close, we determined to help in any
way with their transition. They very graciously decided to move their service
to 9:30am so that we could meet at 11am upstairs. That meant I could
occasionally attend their services, to show support and to learn from them and
their minister. This has been another gift of being in my own vocational
transition period. It was fun to enjoy a traditional, liturgical, hymn singing
service like that of my youth, followed by a contemporary, casual, youth filled
gathering. They even invited me to preach sometimes at their service.
Though the denomination had decided to close our host
congregation, they determined to stay open for another eight months to
transition into their amalgamation with the other church. However, they could
only afford a part-time minister. I had raised some personal support to be part
time employed with our church plant, so I was available to help our “upstairs”
friends with their final months of life. I applied for the 10 hour a week
position.
I was informed, that to be eligible to be their interim minister,
I had to be a candidate for ordination in that denomination. So, I also applied
to be accepted into this process. This included meeting with a local minister
who might sponsor me, attending an inquisition with the provincial Candidacy
and Admissions Board for approval, and committing to take several courses. I
passed through each of these hoops and into official acceptability. And I got
the job.
My two main responsibilities were organizing the weekly Sunday
morning services and meeting individually with each of the church members to
help them consider how they might transition into their new amalgamated church.
Each Monday morning I went to the church and worked on the coming week’s
service. I planned my sermon, then picked hymns, wrote prayers, and designed
the bulletin. I then sent messages to our pianist, the choir leader, the
children’s ministry person and my one-woman worship committee. I had to collect
their input and finish the bulletin to be printed by Tuesday at noon, as we
shared admin support with the church we were amalgamating with. The rest of the
week I tried to meet with several of the church members. It was such a privilege
to be invited into these people’s homes, their lives and even their recovery
rooms as some were hospitalized during this time.
Sundays were fun each week. I would arrive at the church early to open
it up, make last minute notes on my sermon and make notes in my copy of the
bulletin. Soon the choir would arrive and practice. Then the members would
trickle in. Each Sunday I had to wear three different outfits. First I would
dress in slacks, a dress shirt (sometimes with a tie) and a formal jacket. This
was a compromise for these elderly church folks, as I was not eligible to wear
an ordained minister’s robes yet. Then, at the end of the 9:30 service, I would
throw off the jacket (and tie), roll up my sleeves, and join the people
downstairs for coffee. This was my in-between outfit to have coffee with the
early service people as well as the people who were arriving for the casual,
contemporary church plant. Then, I would dash upstairs to the minister’s office
where I would tear off the rest of my formal wear and don jeans, t-shirt and
runners to lead the next service. I usually timed it right, but still, there
were some mornings when I got looks from members of each group who saw me in
the “wrong” outfit.
We decided we would preach from the same passage at both churches.
That way, I could use the same sermon on those Sundays when I spoke at both
services. I was preaching every Sunday at the early service and about half of
the time at the latter. It was interesting to deliver the same sermon to two
different crowds. It was like giving the same massage in two different
languages. Of course the later service also included a discussion time after
the message, as well as the occasional habit of some to interrupt with
questions and comments in the middle. It was also interesting to preach some
mornings, and then sit and listen to someone give a very different message from
the same passage an hour later.
My part time ministry came to a close at the end of December 2015.
Those fall months felt like a long hospice experience full of love and honour
and memories. We were helping each other through our transitional journeys. This
was the very church I had attended as a youth (age 8-23). My father had been
the finance chair for the building committee. I had been the youth delegate on
the building design committee. Now I was leading the church services for the
final months of her life. I was reminded of the line for the life of Esther,
when Mordechi says, “You have come to this position for such
a time as this?” This was
a surprising gift of mutual help and healing for all of us through the passage of
change. What a delightful privilege!
