Having arrived in a place of peace—something I’d coveted but could not attain for nearly ten years—I was recently challenged by my pastoral supervisor to write about it. Here’s my attempt:
Back on February 23 this year I wrote an article titled, “Commitment annuls the curse of indecision,” and in this article I spell out what happened. For the purposes of brevity, here is one passage:
“Once I resolved that I was staying in my fire and emergency services role, I could suddenly see the purpose in it. But only once I’d committed. I began to see that I was there by divine appointment. It’s what I needed to see. I also began to see that the pastoral position I’ve been in for a few years now is right where I’m supposed to be.
“I’d grown chronically unsettled and wanting to be elsewhere, preferably back in full-time ministry, but I’d failed to see that I was already in full-time ministry—on mission. I had my mission, but I couldn’t accept it.
“As I faced the truth, that I’m right where I need to be, everything began to click into place.”
This article naturally talks about reaching an arrival point of peace, but there is far more to be discussed about the process of having arrived there.
The truth is it was an arduous process taking several years, and it involved a lot of pain, a fair amount of bitterness and resentment, and significant moments of triggering that led to much sadness and anger. Much more in fact that I was willing to admit for a long time.
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At the centre of it was a dream that relied upon being realised for peace to be attained.
Life gets very hard when your peace and contentment relies upon something external to you being realised. It seems that my one wish to be involved in the vocation of my first choice wasn’t in the will of God—who I desired so much to serve in that way.
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Even though I’m a part-time Baptist pastor, I’d struggled to see that I was a true pastor.
Even though I’ve been told by many individuals who know what they’re talking about that I’m a “good pastor” it didn’t seem enough.
It didn’t seem enough that I was a pastor at heart. It didn’t seem enough that I was being used by God in all sorts of days every week. It seemed measuring up to humanity’s standard of what a pastor is was most important, and I just couldn’t shake that.
I felt that to be a true pastor you needed to be employed full time as a professional. Isn’t it funny (not much!) that I’d fallen into this thinking that I was “less than” other pastors who were paid well enough to live for their work?
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The recent years had their own challenges. 2021 was a year where I frequently gave up in utter physical and spiritual exhaustion. 2020 was a year of frustration, challenge and change, yet growth. 2019 was a stretching year that ended in a two-week bout of acute burnout. 2018 was a year where nothing much seemed to happen even though I sowed a lot by faith. 2017 was a recovery year from 2016 and was the beginning of the end for me in the hope of getting substantial church work. 2016—the worst year of my life after acute rejection. 2015, a year of challenge and confusion. 2014 was a paradoxical year of grief in losing Nathanael, yet a strength from God I’d never experienced before. I won’t count backwards further than that.
Then there was that pivotal December 2021... where I had no idea things would suddenly change.
Almost like it’s the turning point for divine action, having made a decision, the next few months I experienced such a resounding peace that is quite incomparable to what I’ve felt before. A peace of acceptance and a stillness of soul of being quietly grateful for everything.
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What I’ve learned is there’s no point coveting that which you cannot control.
Being that it took me years to discover this, if I were you, I wouldn’t fret. Being patient with ourselves is appropriate because God is even more patient than any of us can comprehend.
What happened to me for that transition to peace, happened apart from me, I can’t take any credit. But God knew my will was to be free of the desire to control my destiny. It was like I was sick and tired of being sick and tired in that way.
I know that I may not be able to always retain this sense of peace, so what I’m locking in now is that it can be attained if we’re willing to hold onto the hope of it.
IMAGE: Learning to embrace another career. Driving the “Kwinana 3.4” back to Perth from Geraldton in January 2022.
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