Pastoral chronicles, pt 1

Intro: There is a part of me that wants to get back on instagram, live a little of my life as a woman who is a pastor in public. There was a time when I did not know any female pastors in person. I only found them on the internet and I needed them. Another part of me remembers that I am a private person, that Instagram has changed, that I have so many qualms about using that space. Nevertheless, because I can’t shake the idea, I’m going to post here what I might post there. I want to see if I can keep up with consistent posting, if the desire falls off after I actually make the work for a few weeks.

Here’s post 1:

In spite of its popularity, I didn’t enjoy The War of Art. I read it so long ago that I can’t tell you why, I just remember not connecting with it. However, I cannot argue with the theory of resistance. I am not here to make a theological claim about it, just to observe that, specifically with sermon writing, I feel resistance. I don’t want to write a sermon. Going over a sermon out loud multiple times (a crucial step for me to move from reads well to sounds good out loud) feels excruciating. The Friday and Saturday before I preach, I’m certain that the sermon will be bad. I will be bad. Why on earth have I agreed to do this? 

And yet, I keep doing it. I’m praying that God does something beyond my capabilities. I’m trusting that while I do my work of participation, God will be at work, first in me, then in the congregation. God has always met me there. 

It’s just never felt easy. Or certain. Or simple. I don’t think it should. It’s a responsibility that I want to take seriously. I also deeply enjoy preaching despite how hard it feels.