Study Leave Report Summer 2011 Ian Manson This is the first time I ...

Study Leave ReportSummer 2011Ian MansonThis is the first time I have taken advantage of the encouragement offered to ministers to take studyleave. Part of the motivation was that I simply felt I was getting tired, continuing the same routineyear on year without being very good at taking time off or taking proper holidays. I was also awarethat I have been in Geneva for 10 years now, and that I am fast approaching my fiftieth birthday,both of which tend to prompt a desire to pause and reconsider priorities. In fact, as soon as I hadmade my decision and confirmed my travel plans, I already sensed a new release of energy andenthusiasm.My interest was to find out how my colleagues in ministry had coped with their experiences sincewe all studied together over 20 years ago. There was no doubt in my mind that the quest was reallya personal one, seeking to share the kind of thinking and reflecting I was already doing. Howeverthere is also a broader context, a sense that the ground has shifted beneath us we have been busygetting on with things. This shift was neatly summarised by R D Kernohan in August's Life andWork:“The church is more often and more openly attacked, misrepresented despised and rejected –sometimes through hatred but often through ignorance and incomprehension. The dangers to thechurch from being thought ineffective and irrelevant probably matter more than those from hostilityor ridicule. But taken together they create a climate of media, cultural and public opinion in whichits exceptionally difficult...(to minister) Its far harder than it was 20 years ago to be an effectiveminister...”The Report of the Ministries Council to this year's General Assembly is also replete with referencesto change and hints at something of a crisis:“Although the essential elements of Parish ministry – leading worship; preaching; mission;pastoral oversight of the congregation and Parish; engaging with the wider community; offeringspiritual leadership; moderating the Kirk Session; participating in Presbytery and where requestedin the national life of the Church – have remained largely unaltered since the Reformation, the waysin which the role of Parish minister has been exercised have been continually evolving. This is noless the case as we enter the second decade of the 21 st century than it has been at any other time –perhaps even more so.”“Ministry is never static – the Parish ministry no less than any other form. In the context of arapidly changing world, the changes in our own society itself, and in the prevailing culture, meanthat the Church and its ministries cannot be immune to continuing change.”“There has been an increasing sense for some Parish ministers that the changes which have takenplace have led to a devaluing of the role of the Parish ministry.”“The last decade in particular has seen significant changes taking place both to the Parish ministryitself and around it in terms of the emergence of other forms of ministry”“Some ministers have reflected on the fact that the ministry in which they are now engaged is notthe ministry for which they trained. The Council recognises that this is true and that not enoughhas been done to develop effective continuing ministerial education and support to help ministerscomprehend and adjust to the changes which have taken place and will continue to take place in

oth society and the church”.That said, the project which I set out on turned out not to be the project that I completed. Or at leastI can say that as I made my way through it I discovered that certain aspects were more importantthan I had expected and I chose to focus on these things. In short, I thought I was going to developa better understanding of the changing nature of ministry, and I did that. More significantly thoughI found that I was developing a better understanding of my ministry, of who I am and how and Ihave changed. That may be of less interest for others to read about but it is much more useful forme. I found myself writing what I referred to as “my memoirs”, an exercise which kept expandingwithout ever seeming to move forward much. I found this very therapeutic and came to lookforward to the hour or two which I spent each morning in a quiet room with my laptop. Lots ofmemories came back to mind which may have carried more significance for me that I hadpreviously attached to them.My plan was to visit minsters whom I had known at University and talk with them about how it hadall worked out since those more youthful days that we had shared together. I was always clear thatthe list of ministers I wanted to meet with would not be restricted by this criteria. There were otherswhom I had worked with or befriended or just come to respect over the years whose opinions Iwanted to hear and whose stories I also wanted to gather. So it was that I managed to contact andmeet with a total of 20 ministers, most of my generation but extending to some who have nowretired.However the fact that as I talked over the stories of other ministers lives and experiences I was alsowriting my own story affected the meetings I was having as our discussions became less factual andmore personal and reflective. This process was further encouraged by my choice of readingmaterial to accompany the study – Eugene Peterson's recent memoirs on his own journey ofdiscovery about what it means for him to be a pastor. His experiences were very different frommine, yet there was plenty in his story to stimulate my own thinking and it led me into deeperreflections on what has made me who I am.It was interesting to discover that his motivation for writing as he did was initially, like mine, aconcern about what he saw going on in the wider church. He describes it in this way, writing in anorth American context but sounding very similar to european writers: “I couldn't help observingthat there was a great deal of confusion and dissatisfaction all around me with pastoral identity.Many pastors, disappointed or disillusioned with their congregations defect after a few years andfind more congenial work. And many congregations, disappointed or disillusioned with theirpastors dismiss them and look for pastors more to their liking. In the 50 years in which I have livedthe vocation of pastor, these defections and dismissals have reached epidemic proportions in everybranch and form of church.”Yet the subject of his writing turned to be, not the struggles of the church, but the internal struggleshe lived with. “How do I as a pastor prevent myself from thinking of my work as a job that I getpaid for, a job which is assigned to me by my denomination, a job that I am expected to do to thesatisfaction of my congregation, how do I remain listening to and attentive to the call which got mestarted in this way of life? Not a call to make the church attractive and useful, not a call to helppeople feel good about themselves and have a good life.... How do I keep the immediacy and theauthority of God's call in my ears when an entire culture, both secular and ecclessial, is giving mea job description? How do I keep the calling, the vocation of pastor from being drowned out by jobdescriptions, dressed up in glossy challenges and visions and strategies clamouring incessantly formy attention?”In this report I'll say a little about my conclusions on that kind of personal stuff, though I will

certainly spare you the endless pages of personal reminiscing. Before that however, let me answerthe kind of questions that I expected to be answering in this report before its emphasis started toevolve.What has changed?So what changed in the practice on ministry of recent years? Of all the people I discussed this withthe most precise and focussed response came from a recently retired minister. He came out with animmediate five point response which was so clear and articulate that it sounded as if he was justwaiting for me ask. Because his five points are a good summary of what other people told me I'lluse them as a framework for describing what I found.1. The status of the minister in society.He recounted a memory from around 40 years ago of going as a student to a rural church to preachat a communion Service. He arrived at the manse to meet the minister, then walked with him to thechurch. The minister wore a top hat and tail coat, more or less parading through the streets andassuming the respect of all who saw him. Even then he was aware that this seemed strange and thathe was getting a glimpse of a previous era, but it formed a marker for measuring how far thingshave changed over the course of one ministry. Another minister described how, when he arrived inhis first parish, he could go from door to door introducing himself and expect a welcome each time.Even those who had no interest in the church would understand why he was there and be pleased tomeet him. As he told me he laughed at the thought of the responses he might get if he tried thattoday.This kind of change in public attitude in Scotland is often connected with popularly reported sexualscandals causing clergy to be treated with suspicion and ridicule, but I think there is more to it thanthat. The change in status has mirrored that of other professions which were once treated withrespect; politicians, teachers, police etc. We are all victims, if that is the appropriate term, ofsweeping social movements which we have little influence over. With the increasing acceptance ofan unthinking relativism (every view is as valid as every other) anyone claiming to speak withauthority or expertise leaves themselves open to misunderstanding and ridicule.These anecdotes and many others seem to illustrate, not only a change in the way people view theminister, but the assumptions with which ministers must then operate. Not so long ago in ourhistory we could assume that people would respect us and be willing to listen to us in a way that isunimaginable today. One outcome I suspect is that we tend to retreat into our congregations,accepting the popular impression that the church is a private club in the same sense as a golf club ora tennis club. It serves the needs of those who are interested in it but has no pretensions abouthaving anything to offer to those who don't. Another is that we often strive too hard to prove ourrelevance and to give ourselves an obvious purpose. It is from the 1960s, when church attendancefirst went into dramatic decline, that we get the image of the trendy guitar playing vicar trying tolook cool in order to relate to the youth. Modern equivalents might be a social project or anevangelical programme or developing some area of expertise such a counselling.2. The issue of music in church.I was surprised the subject of church music was brought up in this context but it was certainly atopic that came up regularly when discussing the stresses which ministers face. He pointed out thatwhen he began his ministry there was an easy consensus within congregations about music inworship. Pipe organs would be played and hymns would be sung from the hymn book and no onequestioned it. Today however there is such a variety of styles and contents to choose from that the

music often becomes the focus of conflict around power and preference. Very few of those I spoketo now use the kind of music that any retired minister would have recognised when he started out,with only two or three of the twenty regularly using pipe organs and traditional hymns as their mainmusical diet.One colleague spoke of the issue in terms of family meals. Some people don't like peas and othersdon't like carrots, he said, but if we are all to live together we have to be prepared to go withoutthings we like and eat things we don't like from time to time. However another minister, talkingabout the same subject, said that she saw her role not simply as being to oversee a compromise butto judge between the alternatives and make decisions herself about what was appropriate. Certainly,in this context the one thing which is inevitable that no minister can please everyone.The music issue is only one example of something bigger that I encountered, both through mydiscussions and in the seven different churches that I was able to worship in. If there ever was a“Church of Scotland brand” it has long since dissipated out of existence. I think that even 25 yearsago when I started out you could walk into any Church of Scotland Service and know pretty muchwhat to expect, the music you would hear, the way the minister would be dressed, the sort ofsermon you would hear etc. That is certainly not the case today. Some ministers still wore clericalcollars, one even wore traditional robes, but others would be in a collar and tie or even tee shirt andjeans. You could find yourself singing Victorian hymns or contemporary hymns or popular songs.You could hear a 40 minute sermon or an eight minute chat. This variety might be interpreted asministers trying to cater for the varied demands of congregations or as ministers finding freedom toexpress their preferences styles of ministry, but it certainly add to the pressure on individualministers to get things right and keep people with them as practices change and evolve. A furthersymptom is that it makes it more difficult for ministers to move from one church to another whereassumptions and expectations might be very different from where they were before.3. Issues of Church FinanceMy collegue described finance as a constant pressure which, in his experience, didn't used to exist.It is perhaps surprising that this was not a subject which came up in many of my discussions.Certainly it was expressed as a frustration that members of a congregation would seem to haveplenty of money to spend on quality cars, luxury holidays or even holiday homes, while they seemhappy for the church to scrimp and save and struggle to pay its bills.Where the issue did come up in conversation was in terms of the bigger picture. All of ourpresbyteries are now being forced to make cuts because the church nationally cannot afford to payfor the number of ministries it currently has. In one case a minister of a substantial rural parish toldme that he expects to have another two or possibly even three addition parishes added to hisresponsibilities in the new presbytery plan. I was also told that even in wealthier congregationsthere is no guarantee that a minister will be replaced, or if he is his replacement would probablyhave to spend 30% of their time in and urban priority parish. Naturally such changes will affect thenature of a minister's job and it is clear that they are already causing a lot of stress and uncertainty.Several colleagues also spoke of their fear for the future. Already their congregations are hardlyfinancially viable, but the vast majority of those who attend and who contribute financially areelderly. One minister reckoned that 95% of his Sunday congregation are over 75. It is not difficultto project forward 10 years and see a rather hopeless scenario, one which has a demoralising effecton ministers who see their work likely to end in closure and apparent failure. No one I spoke towould want to use church finances as a measure of the value of their work, but it is difficult to avoidthe sense that one of the few measurable factors in church life must somehow be a reflection of theimpact of their work.

4. The loss of the influence of church colleges.This initially sounded like a strange one but again there is a bigger issue lurking behind it. Heexplained that when he studied there were 40 people training for the ministry in his University atthe same time. That gave him a peer group to support and challenge him, many of whom wouldremain a part of his life to this very day. The low number of ministers entering in recent yearsmakes for a very different experience, making ministry, in his opinion, more of a solitary experiencethan it used to be.Yet he was saying more than that, recounting the way professors at the theological colleges used tobe big names and big figures in the life of the church. Their opinions would be sought and listenedto on all of the big debates and they would have a significant say in shaping the direction of thechurch. The absence of such figures today has the effect of limiting debate within the church,making those in the central committees far more powerful than before. He was not saying that theywere making bad decisions, or in any sense questioning their commitment to the good of the church,but making the point that they will always tend to act on the basis of what is pragmatic rather thanout of theological vision.Certainly a sense that ministers feel isolated and powerless was very pervasive throughout mydiscussions. Despite the democratic principles that are built into the fabric of Presbyterianism fewof the ministers I spoke to felt that they had much influence, and those who were in significantpositions on key committees talked of it as a major burden rather than a privilege. The effect seemsto be that ministers focus on their own congregation, lose touch with their colleagues, and resentanything that feels like interference from outside.5. The lack of children.This one is simple and obvious enough. When my colleague started out all churches had childrenpresent and their participation in Services was taken for granted. Now it is relatively rare to havechildren in church, and where they do it is usually in small numbers. I don't remember any of mycolleagues speaking about this, a sign perhaps that we simply take it for granted that young familieswill not be interested in coming to church in any significant numbers.When older members of congregations talk about this it is generally accompanied by tales of thegood old days when Sunday School classes were full and three double decker buses would turn upto take them away on their annual outing. I have no doubt that such memories are accurate, but itdoes beg the question – where are they now? What was the church doing wrong at that time, when itlooked so successful, that this generation of children did not stay in church when they grew up anddid not want the same experience for their own children?Other changesThese comments were a good summary of the sort of changes that ministers are working through,and they all found resonance in the other conversations I had. However there were many otherswhich emerged. For one thing, ministers almost invariably told of having fewer baptisms, fewerweddings, and more surprisingly fewer funerals than before. 10 years ago the constant increase inthe number of funerals we were asked to do was a major issue as they absorbed so much of our timeand energy. Now it seems that two things have changed. Firstly people are getting more used to anelder or other church leader taking funeral Services instead of the minister. But more significantlyfewer people are bothering to contact the church at all in times of bereavement, choosing instead tohave a humanist ceremony, something organised by the undertaker, or something more private.

Generally, though not universally, ministers spoke of growing more convinced of their faith but lesscertain of opinions they once held dear. One quoted William Barcley who told him that he had notbecome less sure that he was right, but was now less sure that others were wrong. Decisions aboutwho to baptise or which weddings they should conduct are made more liberally that they wouldhave been before. Sermons have become shorter in many cases and often now include a multimediaaspect which would not have been common when we started out. One colleague no longertakes any notes into the pulpit having grown comfortable with using the images projected on to thescreen as his prompts. Some have teams of people to prepare and run their multimedia materialwhile others have had to learn the skills for themselves.Another comment that I heard a few times is that people in the parishes don't turn to the minister forhelp with problems in the way they used to. One colleague recounted memories of strangersturning up at his door explaining that their marriage was in trouble and they needed his help, givingthat as an example of the sort of thing that doesn't happen now. It seems that there are otherprofessions which are higher up the list of where people would go to seek help. Similarly it used tobe common for me at least to be approached by people needing money, usually for drugs thoughthat was never part of the story that was given. Other troubled people would also appear assumingthat the minister would be a friendly face and perhaps a soft touch. Ministers, even though in urbanpriority areas, told me this does not happen as frequently as it used to. Again it seems that theminister is not on many folks radar when they are searching for people to turn to in a crisis.Other topics – Training for MinistryPeople often refer to me as having been trained to be a minister, but that statement is less accuratethan they would imagine. What we are given is a university education, a degree in theology, butany actual training for the practice of ministry only takes place around the edges. There has beenincreasing discussion as to whether this is still the best way to prepare people for ministry so itseemed like a useful question to ask.Perhaps the most interesting thing about the responses is how varied they were. Some thought oureducation offered a breadth of understanding which helps to put things into proper perspective.Other were much more negative. One man described the experience as being like theological claypigeon shooting where they would take everything he believed, threw it up in the air and tried toshoot it to pieces. He was angry that lecturers had pushed their own hobby horses without anyconcern for the effect it might have on the students.However what was common was the later dawning realisation (it dawned on some quicker thanothers) that congregations were not generally interested in hearing them share their theologicalknowledge. No one claimed that their time at university had really prepared them for enteringministry. On the other hand I also happened to discuss this with an experienced teacher whoassured me that her colleagues would all say exactly the same thing about teacher training and thatthe real lessons are always going to be learned on the job.AchievementMy primary reading during my time in Scotland was Eugene Peterson's “The Pastor: A Memoir”.In the closing pages he reflects on his experience and comments that he is surprised at how littlesense of achievement he has. The only thing he can comment on in that sense is that he avoidedwhat he identified as temptations (primarily the temptation either to give up or to accept thedemands of the prevailing culture and seek popularity and church growth for its own sake) This

not a real minister, accusing him of destroying the church. Strangely he also reported that she isstill there and is now very supportive. Yet another colleague, whose experiences appear to beextreme, now has his wife open his mail from members of the congregation in order to filter out themore hurtful ones.I had many conversations about how we had assumed that the big challenge in ministry would betaking to gospel to those outside the church who might be actively hostile to it. In fact the almostuniversal experience is the opposite, that we find a level of respect or at least indifference in thewider community but have to spend by far the majority of our time doing what one man describedas “fire fighting”, dealing with problems and conflicts and bad relationships within thecongregation.Part of this problem may indeed be that churches exist to reflect the concern of Christ to reach outto the hurting and the broken of society, and in some contexts the minister can feel as if he or she isone of the few well balanced people around, a bit like Dawn French in television's Vicar of Dibley.Another part comes from issues of power, either where people have little influence in their work lifeand want to compensate by getting their way in the church, or where people are used to givingorders at work assume the same authority in the church. It may also be that Ministers have abroader perspective on the work of the church that is not shared by congregations, and may want towork in ways that are not what the congregation expect or assume.Quite apart from individuals we have to deal with, congregations in general start to look like strangeanimals when you form a composite picture from ministers' descriptions of them. A retiredcolleague came up with a comical illustration of his experience. “A congregation is a bit like afaithful old dog. Usually it will stand or sit when you ask it to, but as soon as it sees a rabbit it isoff”. There is no doubt that the deepest hurts which ministers spoke of came from theircongregations, and often from people they trusted, assuming the sense of trust and goodwill weremutual before discovering that it wasn't.None of this is to suggest that problems which ministers face with congregations are all one sided.I've no doubt that ministerial incompetence, arrogance, and weariness all play their part, but thisreport is merely about how ministers have experienced things and frustration with aspects of theircongregations is clearly a common feature. While everyone would have spoken about great peoplewhose service and witness is inspirational, they would also speak about people who make theopposite impact. The stories were not only of people being objectionable, but also of people whoappear frustratingly apathetic. One minister in a high status congregation simply said that hishighly capable members seem to leave their professional abilities at the church door when theyenter it.Impotence to change.Tied in with this issue is a sense of frustration about not being able to bring about the changeswhich ministers believe to be necessary. It is clear to many that their congregation cannot have along term future by simply following existing patterns. They may be confident that new peoplecould be attracted to the church but cannot be sure that there would be enough to replace the currentmembers who would walk away if things changed. It is significant that the only minister who toldof rapid and substantial growth in the membership of his church is one who went into a newsituation with only a few hand picked elders to help him get things going. Without the pressure ofcongregational administration and the weight of years of tradition he enjoyed his freedom to buildpatterns of mission and worship that are simple and direct and focussed on the gospel. It may bethat many of my other colleagues would not have had the vision and the appropriate gifts to do thiseven if they were given the opportunity, but the contrast between this one story and most of the

others was striking.I know that any posts which are advertised for ministers which do not involve parish ministry willget far most applications than for any parish post. Almost everyone I spoke to had as much faith inthe gospel as ever, and in some cases more, but have little belief that the decline in theircongregations can be turned around. One said that over the years his faith in God had increasedwhile his faith in human beings had decreased. That was said with some sadness but reflected a lotof what I was hearing.BreakdownAnother strong memory that I have from the conference I attended for those five years into ministryis of one colleague telling of a serious breakdown in his health. This didn't surprise any of us andother stories emerged of marital breakdown and enforced time off. One man asked us to be honestand put our hands up if we felt our personal lives had been badly affected by the stress of our work.Every hand went up – including mine. The man who asked the question drew the logicalconclusion – either there just happens to be something wrong with every one of us or there issomething wrong with the job we are being asked do.The subject of ministerial breakdown has since become a big issue, with terms like “burn out”coming in and out of fashion. The latest emphasis is on what it termed “life-work balance” withministers being pushed towards operating office hours and take appropriate time to rest andrecuperate. One of the reasons for this new emphasis is simply financial, a recognition that thechurch cannot go on losing so many men and woman in whom time and training has been invested.Naturally I wanted to ask people how they had been affected over a longer term, and whether or notthey had ever come close to giving up. It is fair to say that this is not a good sample group as thosewho had left ministry were by definition not on my list.First of all I should say that not every minister had experienced anything they would describe as abreakdown. Nonetheless most had been humbled and had some of their confidence broken downover the years. One in this category said that he now felt less prepared for ministry than he hadwhen he left university, having less assurance and confidence than when he had started out. That isnot necessarily a bad thing of course and can simply be a description of the natural process ofmaturing.More significantly some did speak of reaching a point of real crisis that did require medicalintervention. One spoke of taking panic attacks which came to head when he was taking funerals,forcing him into the vestry several times in each Service to regain his composure. Another foundhimself on a Saturday night walking round in a figure of eight feeling unable to stop. For him itwas symbolic of feeling trapped, stuck in a pattern that he couldn't control or escape from. Thatissue of feeling trapped seems to be a common one. Quite apart from feeling the weight ofexpectations placed upon them, many ministers are also aware that being of a certain age with littleexperience outside of the church there are few other places where we could find employment, andliving in a tied house certainly adds to the limitations on our alternative options.Among those who had not had such a dramatic crisis were many who had come to a point ofrealisation that they could not carry on as before and had to make some changes in the way theyoperate. One in particular spoke at length about that moment, saying that the danger was knowingthat he could simply limp on, having picked up enough experience and professionalism to enablehim to keep performing his duties even if his heart wasn't in it. “My sermons weren't exciting me soI knew they wouldn't be exciting anyone else, but I also knew that I could keep producing them”.He knew that no one was ever going to come along and force him to change and that if he were to

improve the way he worked he would need to do it himself. He summarised those changes bysaying “I needed to learn to say no and genuinely not be bothered if people don't like me as aresult”. I think that is a statement which most of us would be both attracted to and terrified by.So what is it that leads towards such a crisis point? Partly it seems to be the pressure of a job whichis more than a contract of employment. As one said, there is never a time when you are completelyswitched off without the nagging feeling that there is someone we should be visiting or somethingwe should be preparing for. It is back to that longing to feel that we have completed something, afeeling which is rare indeed. So one colleague described feeling “a deep tiredness which underliesroutine tiredness”, explaining that “even on social occasions when people think you are relaxingyou have to be professionally sociable”. These pressures are added to, at least in the experience ofsome, by the expectation that as a christian leader who is setting an example we shouldn't be feelingthese things. Someone articulated this well when he said “when we preach that we can do allthings through Christ, how can you turn around and tell people that you can't cope”.The conclusion would appear to be summed up by the minister who told me “stress is somethingyou have to live with. We just have to learn to live with it. There will always be some people in thecongregation who are unhappy with you.” However there is also a recognition that much of thepressure we feel comes from within, from unrealistic expectations of ourselves, rather than frompeople around us. I'll expand on that in the later section about my own experiences.VisitingThe issue of visiting members of the congregation in their own homes was something of a litmustest for good ministers when I started out. Phrases like “he was a good minister, he often called into see me for a cup of tea” or, “that minister never did anything, he was only in my house once infive years” were heard so often that we took the sentiment behind them for granted. Both myprobationary year in Forfar and my first role as an associate minister were spent with ministers whodid indeed visit people regularly and systematically, and it may have taken me many years to getover a sense of guilt that I have never been able to do it as well as them. However it is fair to saythat the closest thing I got to a unanimous response was the negative response to the question “doyou spend much time visiting your congregation?” Even those who had started out prioritising thishad long since reassessed their priorities. One colleague described how, during his equivalent of aprobationary year, he had been expected to make 40 visits a week and have a report on the ministersdesk by Monday morning. Even then he had been forced to conclude that he couldn't do it andnegotiated a smaller number. I haven't come across anyone who still thinks this style of ministry isdesirable or practical.Other comments.One thing that surprised me was how willing my colleagues were to meet with me once I hadoutlined the kind of conversation I wanted to have. Some of them put themselves out considerablyeither to bring me to their homes or to meet me at a convenient place. I ate lots of meals and dranklots of coffee through the process. The remarks made by one or two suggested that the practice ofdiscussing their ministry with me in this non threatening way was a therapeutic one, a blessing that Iwas able to offer, to put it in someone’s actual words. This seemed natural and obvious while I wasdoing it but it was not something I had really anticipated. One colleague who emailed me to thankme added these thoughtful words of reflection: “I think that experience of thinking you can changethe world, (or at least a parish, or at the very least congregation) and then realising you are asmediocre as the next person, and having to cast yourself upon the grace of God for any usefulnessin life is common across all sorts of theological groupings”.

The Personal StuffI should say that the elements of self understanding which emerged for me during this time ofreading and conversations were not new revelations. All of these are aspects of my life and ministrythat I had already become aware of. What was different was having the time to think it through andpiece it together, and the discussions to help me to articulate it as I saw it reflected in my colleaguesstories.I can see now that throughout my ministry I have carried with me a nagging sense of havingsomething to prove. Actually I have discovered that this is a very common thread in the lives ofministers. Two different colleagues used the exact same words when talking to me about it, “I keepfeeling as if someone is going to come along and find me out”. There is a voice from somewherewhich tells us that we are not real ministers, we are not really up to the incomprehensible demandsof the job, that we are really just acting out the role. It creates a fear which drives us to strive toprovide evidence which we could use in our defence, just in case the day of accusation were everreally to arrive.In one sense our fears prove to be real and the day does often arrive. In any congregation there willbe plenty of people whose causal comments will unwittingly carry that accusing tone, whether it iscriticism of a sermon or regret that you didn't get to visit someone when they were ill or a complaintabout the wrong kind of hymns. All of them, innocent enough in themselves, carry echoes of thedeeper doubts that always linger within us, telling us that we are not really up to this, that we are notreally good enough, that we must have been imagining the call of God or have failed to live up to it.This perhaps is why we tend to be so sensitive to criticism and why we feel the need to try so hardto be liked. One retired minister recently told me that he now recognised that much of his ministryhad been driven by guilt. He was almost obsessed by the fear of letting people down and so feltobliged to visit anyone he was told about who might be facing some difficulty. An expression ofdisappointment on one occasion when no reasonable person could have expected any more of himstill lives vividly in his memory. It is common for us to recognise that on a Sunday morning wemight get ten positive, appreciative comments about a sermon, none of which will carry muchsignificance for us. One negative comment one the other hand will haunt our mind for months tocome.This extent of this imbalance in my own experience came home clearly to me when I returned oneSunday to the church I had served in 20 years ago. The memory of the day I got a baby's namewrong at a baptism in that church has always been a very clear one for me. In fact it has driven meto be extremely careful to get names right on such occasions ever since. I recounted that dreadfulincident to a few people over coffee after the Service on my return visit and was surprised todiscover that none of them had any memory of it. Meanwhile an elderly lady spoke with Roberta,telling her that her family will always be grateful to me. It seems that her grandson had braindamage and was badly disfigured, so much so the parents were very nervous in approaching thechurch for baptism. Yet she said I had been so gentle and caring and supportive that it made a hugedifference to them. Roberta told me of this conversation and I have no reason to doubt its accuracy,but I have no recollection of the events at all.So where does this “nagging sense of having to justify myself” actually come from? In part this is aspiritual matter, connected with the notion that God has called me to do a job in his church andtherefore I had better do it well. No doubt every job includes a responsibility to impress the boss,

ut I don't think there are any others in which the boss is assumed to know your every action andeach hidden thought. Nor for that matter will the assessment include every private moment as wellas the public carrying out of your duties. One minister stated openly that he recognises he stillstruggles to accept the grace of God, but I suspect that we all do to some extent or another.There is also a sense in which I have felt the need to justify myself among my colleagues. I reallydon't know if, at some level, this is connected with my not having any background in the church,only starting to get involved in my late teens. Is there a voice from somewhere telling me that, likeimmigrant workers, I will have to work twice as hard and do my job twice as hard if I want to beaccepted? I'm not consciously aware of that but it might be one contributory factor to the pressurethat I have often felt. Certainly I have heard far too many examples of ministers speaking abouttheir colleagues in negative and even cruel ways, and confess that at times I have probably takensome comfort in that, as in “I might not be a great minister but at least I am not that bad”.Of course one thing I am aware of is the need to prove myself to my congregation, which evercongregation that might be at the time. They have chosen me, at least in theory, over othercandidates, and most of all they are paying for me to be here. Unlike in most other areas of life thatmeans that they are voluntarily giving their own money because they value my services. So what ifthey don't value them any more, or what if they think I am not doing enough, or what if they don'tthink I am giving enough emphasis to the things they think are important. I realise that ourPresbyterian system is deliberately designed to keep us free of such concerns, that this is why weare not accountable to our congregations for the conduct of our ministry, but we all know this is stillthe underlying reality. All ministers, however good or poor they might be, have to chair meetings inwhich the financial concerns of the church are discussed. There is also much hand wringing abouttrying to keep to budget, struggling to cover costs, striving to find ways to encourage people to givemore. Yet we know that by far the biggest cost on the budget sheet is the stipend and employmentcosts of the minister. The unspoken message can seem loud and clear – if there were no ministerthen there would be no problem.Naturally we all know that the purpose of the church is not pay its bills, and if there were noministry going on then we would be better to close the doors no matter how healthy the bankaccount might look. However this is an important and visible matter in terms of the ministerneeding to convince people that he or she is worth all of the effort, that they are giving all that theycan in return for what is provided for them. But what can you do to prove that? What can we do toprove our worth? We work as hard as we can, try to convince people that we are not slacking, andtend to favour those parts of our job that more likely to get noticed. The consequence is that timefor prayer and study and reflection get squeezed out in favour of meetings and visits and activities,leading in the long run to weariness, dullness and shallowness. It is when we are so anxious toavoid the appearance of inactivity that ironically our fears are likely to be realised, we are not worthmuch as we don't have anything distinctive to offer.I should make it clear that this is not specifically the fault of the congregations I have served in. Aswith most of the colleagues I discussed these things with I can say that the vast majority of those Ihave worked with have been polite and encouraging. Nonetheless as one of them observed,churches do tend to attract hurting people and one of the symptoms they demonstrate is awillingness to ease their pain by bringing others down. The minister is the least likely to respond inan aggressive way and is therefore the easiest target. Another factor is that there are some peoplewho care passionately about their church, or more accurately who care passionately about oneparticular aspect of church life. They do not have the same perspective as us on the overall work ofthe gospel that we have and find it hard to accept that we don't put as much energy as they wouldlike into their particular thing.

Overall though, the problem is one of perception. One colleague had been a school teacher beforehe entered the ministry. He told me that he had taken his job very seriously, going in early in themorning to do his preparation and often staying after hours to help with other activities. Howeverwhen he got home in the evening he did not feel guilty that he was no longer with his students. Hecontrasted this with ministry where, no matter how much you do during the day, you will always goto bed knowing that there were other people you might have seen, other conversations you mighthave had, other words of guidance or encouragement you might have given. Of course this isillogical, irrational and unhealthy and we are all intelligent enough to recognise it. Nonetheless thisconsciousness remains difficult to overcome completely.Through all of this it has become clearer and clearer to me that the nagging sense of havingsomething to prove is really at heart a sense of having something to prove to myself. One colleaguewho certainly shared that understanding in his own life summed it up well. “It is ironic that wewho believe in the incarnation find it so difficult to accept our own humanity”. We talk about aGod of grace who accepts us unconditionally and loves us before we have done anything to pleasehim, yet something within us, dare I call it a demon, pushes and presses us on to ever greater effortsin order to get to a point where we might feel satisfied.But where would such a point be. I haven't yet spoken to anyone who claims to have arrived there,at least not by their own efforts. The closest I have come are the ministers who have come throughsome sort of breakdown and have returned to their jobs humbled and to some extent broken, butwith a more realistic understanding of what they can expect of themselves and what was simplyimpossible. One retired minister remembers the anger he felt when the Assembly Council broughtout a Report in 1990 called “The Ministers of the Gospel Report”. It set out a list of activitieswhich it described as the basic tasks of the the minister. For him this simply a summary of all of theunrealistic expectations that congregations sometimes place on their minister, or at least thatministers imagine that they do. “No one person could possibly do all of those things well at thesame time”, he said.Yet we need to recognise that these things I am describing are not restricted to ministers. By coincidenceon my return I read an interview with the actor David Tennant, himself the son of a wellknown Church of Scotland minister. Talking about his work, he said, “It's the old Presbyterianthing, just like the work ethic. It's all connected, isn't it – that sense that you're not worthy andtherefore you have to prove your worth, and you don't get above your station." Perhaps that sumsup my experiences rather well.Tentative conclusions – the personal stuffAs I did my personal reflection and wrote “My Memoirs” I came to understand myself in new ways,and while it may sound self indulgent it also seems only fair to share something of the tentativeconclusions that I was coming to. The main thing that I discovered about myself is that I am aminister. I realise that I could have received that answer simply by asking anyone in mycongregation but of course I mean it in a different way. It is not that I do the job or a minister oreven that I have a calling to full-time ministry, a minister is who I am. I have come to realise that Iwould always have been a minister whether or not I had ended up in the employment of the church.The work of caring for people and proclaiming a message bigger than my own and accompanyingmen and women on the path to the bigger life is part of my make up, an important part of the personI can now see I was always becoming.This revelation is significant, for it reminds me that the ministry I carry out is such a privilege. Ineed that reminder because it doesn't always feel like a privilege. When I panic because I am

overwhelmed with demands, or because I am faced with difficult people, or because I am expectedto do things that I am not comfortable with or competent at, it certainly doesn't feel as if this issomething I have always been in the process of being prepared for. When questioning or criticalwords tap into my own deep insecurities and uncertainties and become a channel to allow them toflow to the surface, it doesn't feel as if I am doing what God has called and equipped me to do.When I allow myself to get tired and worn down by the on-going weekly routine of responsibilitiesuntil a weariness creeps in to smother by imagination and drain my spiritual energy, it certainlydoesn’t feel as if I am following a path that has been set out for me by a loving creator.Nonetheless I know that the core part of what I do, caring and proclaiming and accompanying, arethings that I would always instinctively be drawn towards. Eugene Peterson said that he understoodhis vocation as a pastor when he became involved with a community of young artists. Herecognised that they would always be artists no matter how they ended up earning a living. Theywould always view the world in that way, seeing things others might not notice, finding ways toexpress themselves just because they had a need to do it. Their dream was always that their giftmight be recognised, that it might be recognised so much that they earn a living that way and devotetheir entire lives to doing what they did. It was not the money that they craved, but the opportunityto practice their art without the need to pass their days in paid employment.I have often told the story of how I sensed a call to ministry, how I quite suddenly discovered that Iwas mistaken in my assumption that everyone who attended church would love to be the minister. Ihave often told of the days of my energetic youth when I would be studying town planning duringthe day but really became energised when doing things in the church during the evenings orpreparing for two weeks of mission work in the summer. Perhaps though I had never really seen thesignificance of these stories. I had never heard them as stories of a minister who longed to be ableto do the things that he found fulfilling, to have his ministry recognised in a way that would allowhim to dedicate his whole life to it without the need to pass his days earning money.In that sense and for that reason, I have always held firmly to the traditional understanding thatministers are not paid a salary, and despite the word I used earlier we are not employed by thechurch. We are not paid a salary, something which has increasingly become a sign of what peopleare worth or how important they are considered to be. We are given a stipend, a sum of money toallow us the freedom not to work but to dedicate our whole lives to one thing – proclaiming thegospel. That means proclaiming it by caring for people and teaching the good news of Christ andaccompanying people through the big moments of life, but always proclaiming the gospel.I have written these personal comments and self observations in the present tense, and that is correctfor that is who I am and what I struggle with. However the fact that I am able to see them anddescribe them suggests that it is no longer an adequate description of who I am. As the grace ofGod works through the ageing process, or as it might be more positively put, the maturationprocess, I can see more and understand more. Ultimately we were all correct. Some day someonewill come and find us out. Some day there will be a judgement and no amount of visits orphotocopies or successfully completed programmes will be enough. And of course none of that willbe what this judge will be assessing us on.The older I get the more I come to understand the significance of things I have always talked about,things like grace and mercy and forgiveness. Of course I am not as good a minister as I would liketo be. Of course I don't get round to doing everything I would like to do. Of course I am not aspopular with as many people as I would have hoped. And equally obvious is that fact that I wasnever called by God to be the perfect, all conquering, loved-by-everyone minister. Jesus Christ isour model and in the course of his ministry his congregation seems to have grown from well over

5,000 down to 12, and even one of them betrayed him. Why should any of us expect to be moreoutwardly successful than him? His 'success' was not in terms of measurable achievement, but interms of integrity to his calling and faithfulness to his father. Those targets now look enough forme. When I inevitably fall short I know that my need is not to try harder, but to keep learning moreabout the grace of God which understands I fail and which welcomes me still. I have no doubt thatthe old struggles will never leave me. They have shaped who I have become and will always bepart of who I am. I can value it as a necessary part of my development without being restricted toit.AppendixThe Ministers met withJohn Brewster East Kilbride, GreenhillsThis is John's only charge and he has been there for 27 yearsAlastair Duncan GarelochheadAlastair was at University with me and has been in this church for 22 years.John Whiteford Newlands SouthJohn and I became friends when we were both probationer ministers in the same area. He went toStonehaven where be stayed for 8 years before moving to Newlands in Glasgow 13 years ago.John Purves Drumchapel St AndrewsI lived in John's parish when I first moved to Clydebank. He has been there for 27 years.Fergus Buchanan Milngavie St PaulsI became friends with Fergus through connections in Dumbarton presbytery. He spent 5 years inStevenson and has been in Milngavie for 23 years.David Lunan retiredDavid was full time Presbytery Clerk in Glasow and spent a year as Moderator before retiring.Ken StottDundee: Chalmers AdlerKen lived directly above me when I was a student and we spent a lot of time together. He went toPartick South Church for 8 years and has now been in Dundee for 14 years.Neil Urquhart Irvine: FullertonI knew Neil from our Summer Mission days before either of us had begun preparation for ministry.We then had a year of overlap at University together. He has been in Irvine Fullarton Church for 22years.Alastair Lusk retiredAlastair was the minister I worked with during my years as Associate minister in East Kilbride.That was his only charge and he was there for around 37 years before retiring last year.Lyndsey Schlütter Larkhall TrinityLyndsey and I were at University together. She has been in the one charge ever since.Andrew McLellan retiredI was attached to Andrew's church (St Andrews and St Georges in Edinburgh) when I was a

student. Having been Moderator of the General Assembly he left the ministry to become HMInspector of prisons until her retired over a year ago.Norman Grant Limekilns and Cairneyhill - DunfermlineNorman was at University with me and has since remained in the same charge for 23 years.Peter Neilson retiredPeter was the minister who brought me into the church as a teenager and was very influential on myearly life. He remains a good friend and support.Robin McAlpine KirkcaldyRobin was in a nearby church when I was in Clydebank. He left there to be a Regional Organiserfor Evangelism and has recently returned to Parish ministry.Laurence Whitley Glasgow CathedralLaurence started out in Busby before spending 22 years in Montrose. He has been in GlasgowCathedral for just over 4 years.Peter Gardner Renfield St Stephens - GlasgowI can't really remember when I first met Peter but we have known him and his wife for many years.Roddy Hamilton Clydebank AbbotsfordI worked very closely with Roddy when I was in Clydebank and we have been friends ever since.He has just announced that he is moving after 12 years there.Nigel Barge TorranceNigel was at university with me and has been in the same charge since he leftDavid McAdam Chryston - GlasgowDavid was also at university with me and ministered in Port Glasgow before moving to his currentcharge in Chryston around 10 years agoDouglas Nicol Priesthill / Nitshill - GlasgowI first met Douglas when he was a student attached to my congregation when I would have been inmy late teens. We have remained friends ever since. He has been in his current charge for all of hisministry.