VIEW VIDEO I was chatting with a fellow pastor this week who recently experienced a great tragedy in his work as a minister. He had phoned wanting to talk and I could tell by the tone of his voice that something had gone dramatically wrong.
“You don’t sound good,” I told him. “What’s going on? Did something bad happen?”
“Only the worst thing that can ever possibly happen to a minister,” he said.
“Oh, no. Did the best person in your church die? Did you get fired? Did they start a Wednesday night service?”
“Worse than that,” he said.
“What could be worse than church on Wednesday nights?” I asked him.
“A retired minister has begun attending our church,” he said.
I pointed out that we have several retired ministers at Fairfield and it’s wonderful.
“Just this past Sunday a retired minister filled in for me,” I told him. “It was great. I slept in, ate pancakes, and read The New York Times.”
He said, “The retired minister in my church comes to my office the first thing every Monday and tells me what was wrong with my sermon from the day before.”
I felt so sorry for him and didn’t know what to say other than the obvious. “You must find a way to kill him,” I said. “I will help with the disposal of the body.” Because what are friends for?
It reminded how fortunate we are to have the former pastors we have in our Fairfield community—Mike, Keith, JT, Mark, Rex, JB, and Matthias and let’s not forget Mary, whose time as a nun surely qualifies her as a pastoral peer. After my message the last time we were together—you’ll remember I spoke of our need to know how to read a map, how to find our way, how to navigate the maze of our lives wisely, charitably, joyfully. Several of you then named those persons in your life who had been “maps” who had helped you find your way.
A few days after my message, I received an email from one of our former pastors, Keith Wimmersberger, a wonderful person. He wrote, “I’ve been thinking about your message this past Sunday. It led me to consider the ways we deal with difficulty in our lives. How do we react to stress and distress, loss, emotions, and fears? Our lights, our guides – whether family, teachers, or friends – do indeed provide us with maps, which influence the ways we navigate the world. Yet some maps are helpful, others less so.”
Some maps are helpful, others less so. So true. What do we do when the earliest, most profound, influences in our life were unhelpful and unhealthy?
First, let me say this. While aging can result in our movement toward emotional and spiritual well-being, aging is no guarantee of health and happiness. Some early experiences are so traumatic, some of our first “maps” have exacted such a toll on our lives, they continue to negatively reverberate well into our adult years. Just as wonderful people bestow an enduring blessing on the lives they touched, so too can mean and cruel people bestow a persistent blemish on the lives they touched. Some of our first maps can keep us forever lost, if we let them, if we keep consulting them, if we still let them guide our way.
Now I will say something that sounds cruel but is nevertheless true. Once we realize the damage done to our life by our earliest maps and earliest influences, we can no longer use that as an excuse to remain unhappy. Now, because we are aware, it is incumbent upon us to become healthy. The warranty has expired. It is now our responsibility. We now have full ownership of our lives.
Years ago, I was in a shop in Paoli and came across a replica of a map from Orange County created in the 1820s. As you can probably surmise, Orange County in the 1820s had only a few rough roads, but what ones there were, were on that map, along with the larger creeks and rivers. Now what would you think of me if I insisted that 200-year-old map was the best, most accurate guide for navigating Orange County today?
You’d think I was foolish, wouldn’t you, and you would advise me to buy a smartphone with a map application, which shows not only every creek and river, but also every home, and business. Still, I refused and whenever lost would still blame the maker of the 1820s map, saying, “I wouldn’t be in this mess if they had done a better job back then.”
To which you would likely reply, “They did the best they could with their limited knowledge. Stop blaming other people when you’re lost and get a better map.”
Our mistrust of new maps is not only a religious phenomenon, it is also present in our political lives, when we cling stubbornly to parties and principles because our parents and grandparents did. In both major parties can be found people whose worldview is so dogmatic, so fixed, they are unable to view life through any lens other than the ones through which they have always peered. We are learning, aren’t we, that while fear and fundamentalism take many forms, the consequences are always the same—ignorance and stagnation.
Friends, think carefully about the maps you consult, which maps you still permit to guide your way. Do they reflect reality? Do they take into account where you are in life and where you wish and need to go? We needn’t ever be afraid to set down an old map and pick up a new one. It is neither disrespectful nor unkind to realize the directions you once received are no longer useful, to lay them aside, and follow others.