How come restlessness pursues us even to paradise?
“Okay, gang,” Jim enthused, “it’s time for the ‘Question of the Day.’ “
For those of us who worked at denominational headquarters in Nashville, Tennessee, “Question of the Day” was a daily ritual over coffee break or lunch. Questions ranged from sports to theology, current movies to denominational politics. No subject was taboo.
“Name five pastors you know personally who are truly happy in their jobs, who don’t want to change churches,” said Jim.
Dead silence.
“Okay,” said Jim, “name three.”
Again, nobody spoke.
“How about one?”
Bob finally came up with a name but added, “He moved about nine months ago, so I guess he doesn’t count.” We laughed, finished our coffee, and returned to work.
Years ago, singer Paul Simon wrote a song entitled “American Tune.” One of the lines goes, “I don’t have a friend who feels at ease.”
That phrase described our culture in general when it was written, and it still describes a lot of people today, even a lot of ministers.
Why this epidemic of ministerial restlessness? I’ve noticed it in other ministers, and, though I hate to admit it, I’ve spotted it in myself.
Blues on the beach
Before I worked with my denomination, I served three traditional “First Baptist” churches. Each was a strong church in the community, drew a decent crowd on Sunday morning, and sported solid programs. Although each was an excellent environment in which to minister, none seemed particularly exciting to me at the time. After a short stay at each church, I grew restless.
Since local church ministry didn’t tame my restlessness, I decided to accept a denominational position. I landed a job as an editor and consultant for the Southern Baptist Convention. At first it was exhilarating. I led worship and preaching conferences all over the country, edited Proclaim, a preaching and worship magazine for pastors, wrote numerous articles, and completed my third book.
Finally, I thought, I’ve found the job I’ve been searching for.
Three years later, however, the old feelings of restlessness surfaced. After months of internal turmoil, I convinced myself that I missed the pastorate and that I wanted to return. A year later I left denominational headquarters to return to pastoral ministry.
However, I didn’t go to just any church. I figured if I were to leave a great denominational job, the church must be a special place. So I landed in Hawaii. Yes, Hawaii-palm trees, surfing, perfect weather, ethnic diversity, and a beautiful ocean view from the parsonage. On top of that, I would pastor the leading church in the Hawaii Baptist Convention. I figured life couldn’t get much better.
But after only six months in paradise, I can already predict another bout of restlessness. Hawaii is a lovely place, and I pastor a great church, but I know my restless heart well. I’m all too susceptible to the thought, Perhaps a bigger church on the mainland would be better.
Making the best of Babylon
Recently I’ve been drawn to Jeremiah 29. In this text, the people of Israel are exiled in Babylon. There they grow restless and fantasize about going back to the good life in Jerusalem.
Jeremiah 29:5-7 records some interesting advice: “Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease. Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.”
Jeremiah 29 is God’s answer for ministerial restlessness. Like the exiles in Babylon, we must settle down, build houses, grow crops, raise our families, and seek the welfare of the city we live in. In short, stay put, and put down roots.
Did you see the movie City Slickers?
It’s about a struggling, restless, fortysomething man caught in mid-life crisis. To find himself, he and his friends decide to go on an old-fashioned cattle drive in the West. He returns home with a new outlook on life, and when his wife meets him at the airport, she says, “Honey, I’ve been thinking. If you really want to change jobs, that’s okay with me.”
“I don’t need a new job,” he replies. “I just need to do my current job better.”
I don’t need a new church, either; I just need to do my current church better.
Life beyond church
While it may sound contradictory, I not only need to do my current church better, I need to do it less.
I’ve been on a full-court career press for over a decade. Early on I established substantial goals for my career. Those goals have all been met. I’m now in my mid-30s and wondering, What’s left? The Talmud says that every person should plant a tree, have a child, and write a book. What do you do after you’ve accomplished those things?
I’ve recently written a new list of goals. They are less tangible than my earlier ones and won’t look as impressive on my resume. However, they are probably more important. They include getting in better physical shape, going to the beach once a week, making new friends, enjoying my family, learning to scuba, and reading some novels.
If I’m ever going to overcome my restlessness, I’m going to have to discover life beyond my career. No job, not even the ministry, can meet all our needs.
Will I ever overcome my battle with restlessness?
Probably not completely. I’m the son of an Air Force pilot; moving around is in my blood. My family is a family of gypsies, and I’ll probably make another move or two during my career. However, I’m learning that when I make the best of my current ministry setting, and when I enjoy life beyond my work, I make significant strides toward beating this restless feeling.
The power of contentment
I heard a story some time ago called “The Stonecutter.”
Once upon a time, a stonecutter lived all alone. Though he had acquired great skills, he was very poor. He lived in a tiny bamboo hut and wore tattered clothing.
One day as the stonecutter worked with his hammer and chisel upon a huge stone, he heard a crowd gathering along the streets. By their shouts he could tell that the king was coming to visit his humble village. Joining in the procession, the stonecutter gazed in awe as the king, dressed in marvelous silk, was greeted by his subjects.
Oh, how I wish I had the power and glory of the king, he thought. He has soldiers at his command. There is no one more powerful.
His cry was heard in the heavens, and immediately the humble stonecutter was transformed into a powerful king. He found himself riding on a great horse, waving at the crowds of people who had flocked to see him.
This is power, he thought.
As the summer progressed, however, the new king watched the effects of the heat upon his people. Men and animals became weary, and plants withered under the powerful rays of the sun. As he looked at the sky, the new king realized that the sun was more powerful than any earthly ruler.
How I wish I were as powerful as that, he thought. I wish I were the sun. Immediately, his wish was granted.
The stonecutter relished his new role as the sun. He gloried in the power he felt as he surveyed the kingdoms below. As he sent his bright rays to earth, he watched kings and princes hide under their parasols; he watched as powerful warriors became weak under his gaze. Even the crops in the field were under his command.
Then one day a tiny cloud moved over the land, shielding the earth from the sun’s bright rays. Seeing that here was something more powerful, he thought, I want very much to be a cloud.
Again, his wish was granted. Now he blocked the sun’s rays and felt important. He gathered all his strength, becoming a gigantic cloud, and began to pour down rain on the earth. Rivers formed where previously there were none, and water flooded the streets of the cities and the farmland. Everything trees, animals, people – seemed to be awed by his power. Only the massive rocks were unswayed. Again he had discovered something more powerful.
There is nothing, he thought, as powerful as a rock. How I wish I were a huge stone. His wish was granted.
As a stone he remained motionless and powerful, unmoved by sun or wind or rain. He felt exempt from all the forces that shaped the existence of those around him.
Then one day a man approached, carrying a bag. When he stopped, he pulled out a chisel and a hammer and began to chip away at the rock. Realizing that the man with the tools was more powerful than any rock, he cried out, “Oh, I want to be a stonecutter.”
Once again the heavens heard his cry, and he became a stonecutter. Once again he lived in a bamboo hut and made his living with hammer and chisel. And he was content.
When my restless feelings attack, I now try to remember the story.
-Martin Thielen
Olivet Baptist Church
Honolulu, Hawaii
Knowing your own strength is a fine thing. Recognizing your own weakness is even better.
What is really bad, what hurts and finally defeats us,
is mistaking a weakness for a strength.
– Sydney J. Harris
Copyright © 1993 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.
