I haven’t always appreciated the month of January. It’s the “winter but never Christmas” month of the year, when many (including me) may find it difficult to find joy. More recently, the joy that is possible in this month has been more apparent to me, for which I’ve been thankful. Whenever a more reasonable outlook finally manages to overtake my catastrophic thinking, I welcome it with open arms.
One enduring image that I associate with January is of the days after a freshly fallen snow. It’s still cold enough for the snow to stick around, but enough progress has been made via salt and shovel and plow to clear the roads so that commuting in whatever form is relatively safe. On this day, the sun is out, causing the white blanket still clinging comfortably to grass to sparkle. The path is clear and clean, and the wonder and beauty gives it a frame.
This January Reclamation Project of mine has also been aided by two dates that it keeps for me: the 15th, which is the anniversary of my first date with my now-wife, and the 23rd, which is the anniversary of my ordination into the United Church of Christ.
I celebrate 19 years of the latter today. Over 15 of them were spent as a pastor, and now nearly 4 and counting have been as staff at the UCC National Setting. The latter has been ministry just as much as the former, not better or worse. Just different. And it’s the type of work that I’d been discerning for quite a while before circumstances finally lined up in the right way for me to pursue it.
A dearly departed mentor who served for decades in wider church work once told me that one doesn’t aspire to it. He said that it’s not really about climbing a ladder to greater prestige the way it is in the non-church world. It truly must be a calling, because these roles can be challenging and thankless. He shared that he’d frequently pray to ask God whether it was finally time to do something else, and the answer would always come back, “not yet.”
I am thankful for all 19 of these years. I loved much of what made up my time as a pastor, and I miss it at times. I also love the ministry I’m currently doing. It has its frustrations and hang-ups as well, but I had no illusions that it wouldn’t.
Recently a new interim started at the church where I’m a member. We share the same first name, and he goes by Pastor Jeff, just as I once did. Hearing it again, even while referring to someone else, has brought a flood of memories and associations flooding back, positive and negative. It has helped me remember the positive in particular, and to combat once again the catastrophic thinking with which I sometimes view that long season.
I’m not praying the prayer of my mentor. I’m not looking for an escape hatch, a way either back to the pastorate or onward to something else. My current ministry is still my call, quite firmly so.
Someday the path to being called Pastor Jeff might reappear, clean and clear, lined by wonder and beauty, and unmistakably mine to walk again. But with patience and gratitude, I’m willing to wait.
Jeffrey A. Nelson 