Don't Just Do Something...Sit There

The pastor drove back to his office in a cloud of confusion.  What in the world was happening to his church?  These people that he had known and trusted for seven years--who in God's name had they suddenly become?  Certainly alien seed pods had landed in his parish and the spawn of Alpha Centauri had devoured the meager brains of the lay leaders of the congregation.

What other explanation could there be?

There was only one thing to do.  He would call his mentor--the one that he affectionately referred to as the Ancient Source of Solace or A.S.S. for short.  Of course he only noted this reference to himself.  The Ancient one would have handed him his pastoral head several times over if that label ever came to light.

The pastor leaned back in his chair, feet on the free desk calendar from the faithful fraternal insurance company.  He had the Ancient on speed dial under "666."  His mentor answered on the second ring.

"So, what is it this time?  Did you assassinate the choir director, or did the treasurer make off with the Sunday School trust fund?"  The Ancient was always such a source of...well, you might call it solace.  The pastor wouldn't, but you might.

"I'm glad to talk to you too!" he replied with a grin.  "No, it's nothing so ordinary as all that."  And the pastor regaled the Ancient with the tale of the impromptu Holiday Inn downstairs.

"So what am I supposed to do about this?" he moaned at the end of his narrative.  "Do I call the cops and risk civil war?  Do I call the bishop and start looking for another call?  Do I apply for the night shift at the convenience store and let Phil take over as senior pastor?"

"Well, those are all viable alternatives," the Ancient murmured.  "But first, maybe you ought to try to learn a little more.  You can always panic later if you think that's necessary."  The Ancient had always noted that panic is a bit over-rated.

"Learn more?  What do you mean?"

"How about if you spend a little more time with Phil and get to know him better as a person?  You see him as a problem to be solved.  What if you look at him as a person to be served?  You see all this as a gigantic pain in your lower back.  But what if it's really some opportunity for ministry that just hasn't revealed itself yet?  There's always time to call the cops later.  They aren't going anywhere.  But you know, very few things are ever improved..."

"By hurrying."  The pastor had heard it so many times he could finish the sentence while in a coma.

"And what about Bill?  He's between the door and the jamb and about to get slammed.  He's got this deadbeat brother who has just enough brains to keep breathing.  He's got an eminently sensible wife who now is sure that her husband is a complete bloody idiot.  Do you suppose Bill has a few things he might need to share with his pastor?  It could be worth checking out."

"I suppose that's true, but I am pissed as hell at him.  I'm not sure I can be his pastor right now."

The Ancient chuckled.  "If it were easy, anybody could do it.  This is why they put YOU in the big chair my friend, and not some other poor sap."

The pastor was starting to calm down.  But the Ancient Source of Solace wasn't quite finished.  "And then there's old Jack.  He crossed you up pretty good, and he knows it.  So he's ashamed and in pain and caught between a rock and a hard place all at once.  What are you going to do about him?"

"I think I had better talk to him too, before he does something stupid."

"That's my boy," the Ancient said.  "In a crisis, don't just do something.  Sit there for a while.  Take a step back in order to go forward.  Catch your breath so you don't suffocate.  Most of all, take the time and the effort to learn some more about what's happening.  And while you're buying time, the Lord may just work some things out."

"Thanks," said the pastor.  "That helps a lot."

"No extra charge," the Ancient said--as he always did.