I had a sleepless night last night. I went to bed at 1am, woke up at 2am, and was up the rest of the night. I’m worried about my community. I always feel very inadequate as a pastor, in spite of my extensive theological education, pastoral experience and apparent gifting for it. “Apparent” I say because often it doesn’t seem apparent to me. And apparently it doesn’t to quite a few others also. Sometimes… no, most the time, I feel like I’m trying to herd cats. We are all inclined to pursue our own interests and go our own separate ways. The cohesiveness of the body is slight, fragile and never consistent. So I was awake all night worrying and praying, begging the Lord to please do something because I can’t seem to.
We never arrive… personally nor corporately. The moment you feel you’ve accomplished a certain level of security, poof!, it’s gone. Everything fades like grass and withers away. I realize that establishing some requirements, expectations and rules might alleviate the vacillating nature of our community, but that is not an option for me. I know that trying to guarantee a certain permanent level of comfort and security is not the way of the cross. So, as a result, I suffer nights like last night. Bottom line: it’s going to be up to the will of God and the will of the people to keep this community alive. God please, because I love it, this slender, delicate and lovely piece of your body.