Mynisterious

Forgive me if I say that I’ve always had an issue with calling myself a minister. Even though I’ve been a minister most of my life. I cringe when someone asks me what I do. I would almost rather say I’m an administrator. And, often, I do. What’s wrong with me?

I’ve avoided the topic until now. And by that I mean I haven’t even explored my gut negative response to the word for myself. No journaling about it. No talking to my therapist. No, well, you know, going to any number of the hundreds of ministers I know. No quiet discernment or loud dance moves. Nothing.

So, obviously, I figure it is time to write about it.

First of all, I’m pretty darn sure Jesus does not care if I call myself a minister. Let’s just get that out of the way.

And when I look it up on the all-knowing Google I see words like authority and religion and ceremony. I’m not naive. I know that what I’ve done in my life as a career and a way of being is tethered to those words. But my heart is not. And I think that is where mynisterious comes in.

The other day I was speaking too quickly (a common story of mine) and instead of saying ministerial I said mynisterious. I laughed and corrected myself. But also, I kinda dig it. I think it explains a lot of what I’m trying to say.

My life as a spiritual friend, guide, journey-er - how ever you want to say it - has been a mystery to me. I “take the next faithful step” over and over again. And I just do it. Not out of a sense of ministry (or hierarchy or power over) but out of a sense of knowing, deep in my gut (and heart, but mostly gut) that you and I better do this together or we aren’t going to make it. And, that in that togetherness, there’s God-Creativity inviting us, over and over, into wholeness - something that I believe in. Something that, while sometimes inconvenient when I am really feeling self-righteous, is non-negotiable. Ah, humility.

And so, when I’ve seen before me a step: a person playing guitar on Pearl, a hurting teenager, a broken mother with two children looking for a place to live, a bird of paradise, an empty grocery cart in the parking lot rolling along with a half-eaten hotdog in it (grocery carts are so weird and, also, why did someone start the hotdog and not finish it??), a community afraid because COVID has stopped in person gatherings, even a song that needed to be sung, I’ve taken the next faithful step. Water the plant, find shelter, hold the weeping, go online and pray and laugh with others, give some money AND fight for change in policy, sing the song, and throw away that unfortunate hotdog after putting the cart where it belongs. Show up. Over and over again. Just show up.

I’ve messed up a lot. A lot a lot. I’ve hurt people and I’ve made mistakes. I’ve not listened. I’ve been unkind.

Human, I guess I would say.

But the great mystery of my life has always been this: How have I been able to love through all of it? How? I get super pissed off. Totally frustrated. Really sad. Broken myself. And all through it, over and over again, I love. This strange, deeply held, unconditional kind of love. I can’t describe it and it’s been with me all my life.

It’s mynisterious. And, if I would lighten up a bit, I might even say my ministry.

So why do I not like to identify myself as a minster? Unfortunately, when someone hears I’m a minister I often get assumed to be one of a certain kind of minister. And I’ve not been very happy with a lot of people who claim the word. Too much Jesus 2020 flag waving from the Capital and too many “get out of vaccination free” cards being fabricated. Too much “praying the gay away” - that hurt even to type, ugh - and too much money and power before people and the earth. They are ministers. Authority abusing, religion controlling, ceremony co-opting ministers. Look around: It is most often those who cry “I’m a minister of Jesus Christ” the loudest who are doing things that are the farthest from the love of Jesus itself. So far, in fact, that I can hardly stand to look at them. And I absolutely cannot stand to call myself by the same name.

I would rather be an administrator any day.

Mynisteriousness has opened me, though, to the possibility of talking about who I am called to be in this world in a new way. Perhaps talking about the mystery of God and my call to ministry can help me claim the next step before me. Perhaps talking about the ministry from a place of mystery and curiosity can help me claim the love I have at my core in a way that is healing.

They go hand in hand and I’m not sure why it took a slip of words for me to see that. Ministry and mystery.

So if you ask me what I do, forgive me if I say it’s a mystery. After all, I want to be honest.

And, also, I’m going to get a desk plate for my home office: admynisterior.

I’m still working it out. But it has (and I know I have) promise.