I just got notice today that I’m into my eighth year at Cornerstone. That means I get a boatload of PTO days to take off this year. Actually, it’s a cruel joke. I can’t take that many days off and they know it. But thanks anyway. The thought really does mean a lot.
So, I’ve been in existential wrestling matches lately with this question: Why do I do what I do?
I work at a cool church. I know a few who would love to work at a cool church no matter what the pay. I’m pretty lucky. (“Blessed” for you spiritual types – still feels lucky to me.)
When I was younger I cared about the mission above all; you could keep the money. Now in my 40s I care whether or not my job looks anything like a career. Career and Ministry mix like oil and water in my head. There’s no escaping that most churches need to employ people to keep things running. You know… working at a church is a little like swimming in oil and water; treading the paradox of temporal necessity and eternal mission.
I believe current “economic realities” (words I hear every day) are purifying churches as much as they’re hurting. We just came through a time of relative prosperity. We started to bulge in unsightly places but just wore some fashion with slimming vertical motion to mask it. Now many churches in America, just like a lot of companies, are cutting more than fat; they’re cutting to the core. Ready or not, the necessity of increased volunteerism is here. This is tricky for a lot of churches because they’re used to a level of quality they hired to achieve. That quality is some of what attracted a lot of people in the first place.
Cornerstone has already made cuts and we’re not immune to more. Who knows how bad this economy thing is going to get? It’s unwise to think my job is any more secure than any other job in the country. I’m ok with that.
I’d like to offer this thought to all who love their church jobs. It’s where I’ve arrived personally at the end of my existential wrestling matches.
Our greatest American freedoms are often our greatest burdens. Possibility and opportunity bring with them a certain Kierkegaardian despair for most humans. We are naturally convinced our inner joy hinges upon working a job we love and feel we are destined by God to do so. We despair that we won’t find work we love then, once we do, we despair that we might lose it. I visited garbage dumps in Thailand once where men emerge every morning from cardboard structures in freshly pressed white shirts to work any job to provide anything for their families. I have to believe that even in situations like that, joy can abound. May God free us from temporal despair and rebuild within us the joy of a greater sense of eternal mission. If a world-wide economic crisis is what it takes, let it be so.
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Sam, loves this post today!! Very, VERY insightful, honest and true. I love that you don’t jump on the oh-the-economy-is-so-bad-everything’s-going-to-heck bandwagon. I think this season is a great one… if not an uncomfortable one.
What did you mean when you wrote “Now many churches in America, just like a lot of companies, are cutting more than fat; they’re cutting to the core. Ready or not, the necessity of increased volunteerism is here. This is tricky for a lot of churches because they’re used to a level of quality they hired to achieve. That quality is some of what attracted a lot of people in the first place.”
Do you think we should look for lower quality now that our churches employ more volunteers?