"We had no theology for dormant seasons, for the unproductive middle, for the holy work that happens when nothing visible is happening at all." This is a powerful line; it names background motives for never resting, never ending. It adds to my Mennonite heritage which said "rest after work", even when the work never ended. When all this is tied together, it's no wonder we're blinded with the need for exclusively productive seasons.
Thank-you for the reminders to rest. To wait in the already-but-not-yet-here. That waiting is good, and waiting is sacred.
I’m glad that line landed with you. It took me a long time to realize how much evangelicalism (and broader Protestant work ethic stuff) had trained me to see dormancy as failure instead of as part of the natural rhythm of growth. Thanks for adding the Mennonite angle, it’s a helpful connection I hadn’t considered.
Agreed!! That was a moving line for me as well. I will
meditate and journal on this post as it is right where I am at! I think I’m fine and comfortable knowing the waiting is good and right, then a comment from a friend, “still just watching a service at home? (what’s wrong with you?!) and I get out of sorts. What a comfort when you read something that speaks so closely to the place you are at.
I'm sorry that you received that comment. I know from experience how painful that can be. Also, I think the subtext that follows comments like what you received is sometimes worse than the comment itself. What their comment infers, what your choices say about you (in their eyes), all the shame and guilt and fear that you know feel... it's a lot to hold. None of what they say should matter, but it does. Much love for you.
I was driven from ministry in 1996. I know what it feels like to be raw, to just exist. I eventually found a place as minister of music and found my footing in the United Methodist church. When we retired to Tennessee in 2011, I avoided the church I had been ordained in like the plague. We found our place in a small United Methodist church and doors opened for me to return to ministry. I have pastored a small country UMC for 6 years, finding great joy.
The wounds have scarred over and I am thankful that I found my footing and freedom.
Thank you for this post. It resonated with me and reminded me that God is there when we wander.
Thank you for sharing this. 28 years is a long time to carry those wounds, and I’m genuinely glad you found your way back to ministry and to the UMC. There’s something about the Methodist tradition that seems to make space for people who’ve been hurt by church, maybe it’s the emphasis on grace, or maybe it’s just that we’re used to wandering ourselves.
Six years pastoring that small country church sounds like holy work. I’m grateful you didn’t let what happened in ’96 be the end of your story.
I love your story, Beau. Beautifully written and poignant. While I never forgot about God, I left the church for a couple decades. That's how long it took for God to plant me in a new place. So grateful!
Beau, your words so often hit directly home for me. I too, left the evangelical church and have not found my new church home where I feel safe. I know it will happen in time, but this is a time for waiting and healing. As you pointed out.
But I hold onto a truth I learned many years ago; When one door closes, the Lord will open another door. (Everyone has heard this.) But we need to be “patient in the hallway” as we wait. It is indeed dark at times in the hallway, but we believers know God’s timing is perfect, so we need to wait patiently in the hallway while God is preparing our next steps.
Thank you Beau for what you are doing now. You actually have a ministry already. I can attest to that.
Toni, that hallway metaphor is really beautiful. I’ve never heard it put that way before, but it’s exactly right, that in-between space where you can’t see either door clearly but you know you’re moving somewhere.
I’m sorry you’re still in that hallway. It’s hard. But I hear the patience and trust in your words, and that’s no small thing when everything feels uncertain.
Thank you for the encouragement about this work. Some days it feels like shouting into the void, so hearing that it’s landing with people like you means more than you know.
Geez! This was so well written and impactful. Thanks 🙏🏼 I have found a home, shockingly in a Catholic church. Gods presence is strong which is important to us. Questions are welcome which I find fascinating and fresh. All said, I relate to the waiting—I think it was seven years churchless. God met me there and taught me unconditional love. Turned me into a progressive minded human instead of a robot of evangelical settings. Again, thanks for the poignant reflection!
This one really resonates. After leaving the Episcopal Church, I considered myself an "ecclesiastical homeless person" for 10 years, until I found my present community, The Lindisfarne Community. Those were long, painful years. I'm so glad you found a home as well.
Beautiful words, Beau. I’m 66 and at the start of a lengthy process to be ordained an Episcopal priest. Well, not the start, exactly, there has already been two years of “discernment” and prayerful waiting. Sometimes it has felt like the sun would never rise, but now I can see a glow on the horizon. I was raised Evangelical, and after my own wanderings in the wilderness, have found my way to a church that can embrace me, my doubts and my renewing faith. Thank you for the reminder of a need for a theology of dark times, of waiting. Like Mary.
Starting the ordination process at 66 is no small thing. That takes real courage, especially after walking away from evangelicalism and spending time in the wilderness.
I love that you found a home in the Episcopal Church. There’s something about the liturgical traditions that seem to have more room for doubt and questions than what most of us grew up with. I’m grateful you’re still here, still pursuing this call. Thanks for reading, Brad!
“Hurry up and wait” is such a perfect way to describe it. You’re right that Advent gives us permission to sit in that tension instead of just white-knuckling through it. Thanks for reading, Bryan!
"We had no theology for dormant seasons, for the unproductive middle, for the holy work that happens when nothing visible is happening at all." This is a powerful line; it names background motives for never resting, never ending. It adds to my Mennonite heritage which said "rest after work", even when the work never ended. When all this is tied together, it's no wonder we're blinded with the need for exclusively productive seasons.
Thank-you for the reminders to rest. To wait in the already-but-not-yet-here. That waiting is good, and waiting is sacred.
I’m glad that line landed with you. It took me a long time to realize how much evangelicalism (and broader Protestant work ethic stuff) had trained me to see dormancy as failure instead of as part of the natural rhythm of growth. Thanks for adding the Mennonite angle, it’s a helpful connection I hadn’t considered.
The feelings of failure add a sense of shame too, which further destroys us.
Agreed!! That was a moving line for me as well. I will
meditate and journal on this post as it is right where I am at! I think I’m fine and comfortable knowing the waiting is good and right, then a comment from a friend, “still just watching a service at home? (what’s wrong with you?!) and I get out of sorts. What a comfort when you read something that speaks so closely to the place you are at.
Thank you Beau.
I'm sorry that you received that comment. I know from experience how painful that can be. Also, I think the subtext that follows comments like what you received is sometimes worse than the comment itself. What their comment infers, what your choices say about you (in their eyes), all the shame and guilt and fear that you know feel... it's a lot to hold. None of what they say should matter, but it does. Much love for you.
I was driven from ministry in 1996. I know what it feels like to be raw, to just exist. I eventually found a place as minister of music and found my footing in the United Methodist church. When we retired to Tennessee in 2011, I avoided the church I had been ordained in like the plague. We found our place in a small United Methodist church and doors opened for me to return to ministry. I have pastored a small country UMC for 6 years, finding great joy.
The wounds have scarred over and I am thankful that I found my footing and freedom.
Thank you for this post. It resonated with me and reminded me that God is there when we wander.
Thank you for sharing this. 28 years is a long time to carry those wounds, and I’m genuinely glad you found your way back to ministry and to the UMC. There’s something about the Methodist tradition that seems to make space for people who’ve been hurt by church, maybe it’s the emphasis on grace, or maybe it’s just that we’re used to wandering ourselves.
Six years pastoring that small country church sounds like holy work. I’m grateful you didn’t let what happened in ’96 be the end of your story.
Thanks, Beau. I thought I must have not really had a call. I’m glad I was wrong.
It feels like I have been in my first trimester for 10 years
My ultrasounds must be off😉
Would not trade this holy time for anything!
I love your story, Beau. Beautifully written and poignant. While I never forgot about God, I left the church for a couple decades. That's how long it took for God to plant me in a new place. So grateful!
A couple decades is a long journey. I’m glad you found your place eventually. Thanks for reading and for sharing this.
Beau, your words so often hit directly home for me. I too, left the evangelical church and have not found my new church home where I feel safe. I know it will happen in time, but this is a time for waiting and healing. As you pointed out.
But I hold onto a truth I learned many years ago; When one door closes, the Lord will open another door. (Everyone has heard this.) But we need to be “patient in the hallway” as we wait. It is indeed dark at times in the hallway, but we believers know God’s timing is perfect, so we need to wait patiently in the hallway while God is preparing our next steps.
Thank you Beau for what you are doing now. You actually have a ministry already. I can attest to that.
In God’s name,
Toni Hobbs
Toni, that hallway metaphor is really beautiful. I’ve never heard it put that way before, but it’s exactly right, that in-between space where you can’t see either door clearly but you know you’re moving somewhere.
I’m sorry you’re still in that hallway. It’s hard. But I hear the patience and trust in your words, and that’s no small thing when everything feels uncertain.
Thank you for the encouragement about this work. Some days it feels like shouting into the void, so hearing that it’s landing with people like you means more than you know.
Geez! This was so well written and impactful. Thanks 🙏🏼 I have found a home, shockingly in a Catholic church. Gods presence is strong which is important to us. Questions are welcome which I find fascinating and fresh. All said, I relate to the waiting—I think it was seven years churchless. God met me there and taught me unconditional love. Turned me into a progressive minded human instead of a robot of evangelical settings. Again, thanks for the poignant reflection!
This one really resonates. After leaving the Episcopal Church, I considered myself an "ecclesiastical homeless person" for 10 years, until I found my present community, The Lindisfarne Community. Those were long, painful years. I'm so glad you found a home as well.
What a beautiful advent message❤️ I am touched by your reminders of this season.
Thank you so much, Sharon. I’m glad they are resonating with you. You are always so supportive and encouraging. I’m grateful. 😊
Beautiful words, Beau. I’m 66 and at the start of a lengthy process to be ordained an Episcopal priest. Well, not the start, exactly, there has already been two years of “discernment” and prayerful waiting. Sometimes it has felt like the sun would never rise, but now I can see a glow on the horizon. I was raised Evangelical, and after my own wanderings in the wilderness, have found my way to a church that can embrace me, my doubts and my renewing faith. Thank you for the reminder of a need for a theology of dark times, of waiting. Like Mary.
Starting the ordination process at 66 is no small thing. That takes real courage, especially after walking away from evangelicalism and spending time in the wilderness.
I love that you found a home in the Episcopal Church. There’s something about the liturgical traditions that seem to have more room for doubt and questions than what most of us grew up with. I’m grateful you’re still here, still pursuing this call. Thanks for reading, Brad!
The hardest times are often the “hurry up and wait” seasons. I’m glad Advent reminds us that those times are important.
“Hurry up and wait” is such a perfect way to describe it. You’re right that Advent gives us permission to sit in that tension instead of just white-knuckling through it. Thanks for reading, Bryan!