“Sit Still, You’re Fidgeting!” Reforming my Pastoral Identity

About a year and a half ago I ended a congregational ministry position and began a new ministry in palliative care chaplaincy. While I am sure I made the right decision, and working as a chaplain had been a goal of mine for several years, the transition was still challenging and surprising.

To say that these are vastly different would be underestimating how my ministry has changed.  But, that isn’t what has made me the most uncomfortable.  Becoming a congregant has been what’s most uncomfortable. 

The church we left was my first ministry position and we were there for ten years. It is the only church my three children have ever known.  Two of three were born into and dedicated into that community.  My oldest was baptized in the small concrete baptismal in the basement (by me).  It’s the community that supported my journey through seminary, watched my children grow, and wholeheartedly participated in their formative Christian education.  It’s the community that helped me when I had cancer.  It’s the community that held its breath and lifted its prayers through a very difficult, dangerous and joyful pregnancy. 

We belonged there—all of us.  Everyone knew who we were and they welcomed us in a way that only those that belong somewhere understand. Was it perfect? No, but it was home. 

So, I was anticipating that of course we would all grieve what we had known.  What I was not anticipating was how difficult it would be for me to begin somewhere new. I never have difficulty “chatting people up” as my husband says.  But this new church felt so different, so unfamiliar, so…new.  And newness is uncomfortable. I didn’t know what to do with myself, how to act, what to say (quite a change for this extrovert!)

Everything felt out of place and all wrong. The sermon was in the wrong place, communion was different, the songs were strange…and they sang the doxology all wrong. I didn’t know when to stand or sit, I had to shake hands with folks I didn’t know. I’d try to look like I belonged, but really I felt glaringly out of place.  AND, eventually at some point in the service, I’d have to sit still. In the pew.  Like everyone else. As if there was nothing else I could do. One Sunday my husband looked at me and whispered “sit still!” “What?” I said.  “Sit still, you’re fidgeting.” I didn’t even realize it.  I didn’t know what to do, so unfamiliar was I of being in a pew.

I’ve realized, after some time has passed, that I’m reforming my pastoral identity. What does it mean for me to be an ordained minister who is a congregant…who does not have an active staff role? Who am I among them? Where do I belong? What can I offer my new community that will fill both the need for me to minister and their need for my skill set?

Because it’s not easy to figure out…I’ve had to re-learn what it means to be a participant in the life of the church in an entirely new way.  And, I’m getting there. After a year and a half it’s better than it was, the songs are more familiar, I’ve found a few niches, and know a few names.  I’m beginning to feel that I belong.  But, it’s still hard to sit still…and I’ve learned that it’s good to be uncomfortable sometimes…