I posted this to my Glenview blog on February 2. I offer it again so you get a sense of where I’m coming from. It’s a little long for a blog post. More of an essay.

Last night, February 1, the Presbytery of East Toronto gave me permission to retire, as of June 1, 2022. (For non-Presbies, I got the Bishop’s agreement and blessing.) I made my decision weeks ago and informed Glenview’s Session, the Clerk of Presbytery, the PCC Pension Board, and the congregation a month ago. I still needed approval from Presbytery. (Actually, the Pension Board needs Presbytery’s approval.)

Over the last few months, I have written and said a lot about how exhausting ministry in COVID time has been, and still is. I’ve whined a lot. I’m not surprised to discover that some of my friends figure I’m retiring because I just can’t go on under current conditions. If you had asked me in late November, I might have said, “Yes. I’m ready to pull the plug.”

I’ve said a lot about the mental, spiritual, and physical toll church leadership in COVID time has taken. I’ve read a lot, too. As much as I’ve complained, I have always relied on two things. I can get through just about anything, if I know it will end. COVID time will end. We still don’t know when. Over and over, I’ve heard the echo of the voice of a dear friend who reminds me, “The Bible says it came to pass. Not it came to stay.” Simple, but true.

I can endure a lot if I know I’m not alone. The effort required to build and lead worship that engages the congregation, at least some of them, and sustains community has been huge. But the response and support I’ve had, even from people who don’t participate in virtual services or Zoom gatherings, has been amazing.

I took some time around Christmas, after yet another partial shutdown on short notice, to look back to the beginning of my ministry. Next Wednesday, February 9, will be the 39th anniversary of my ordination. One day last week marked the 47th year since an event in my life started me discerning my vocation. I’ve been walking the road I’m still on for a long time. If I add my student years of summer appointments and volunteer leadership to my 39 years ordained, I count almost 45 years of service to the church. I can’t believe it.

Then I counted the pastoral charges I’ve been called to serve. Four. Add to that three more on one-year appointments. I looked beyond those congregations and tried to remember how many times I’ve served on and/or chaired/moderated special, standing, and support committees, judicial commissions, task forces, and working groups for the PCC, General Assembly, Synods, and Presbyteries. I lost count. I realize this may surprise some PCC friends. That’s because most of what I’ve been called on to do was either in confidence, or destined to be buried in minutes and forgotten. Necessary work. Sometimes I was called to do it because it seems, like Liam Neeson in an otherwise forgettable movie, I have “a very particular set of skills, skills I have acquired over a very long career.” I’ve moderated two presbyteries, one of them for three consecutive years. I’ve also moderated two synods. I was even on the ballot for Moderator of General Assembly. I am so glad I wasn’t elected, for my sake and the church’s.

I was privileged to teach in a theological college for 15 years, six of them full-time. During those six years I was Director of a program of education for ministry in the United Church that reached the whole country. I had the wonderful experience of meeting candidates for ordination and congregations from as far east and west, north and south as United churches can be found. I welcomed the first Anglican and Presbyterian students to join in that program.

“Pivot” is still used to describe what pastoral leaders have experienced as “sudden whiplash-inducing jerks” during COVID time. A pivot is something an athlete does, and trains to do smoothly, during a game. Pivoting suggests a smooth swivel in my office chair, from the keyboard to the printer and back. I’ve been thanked, even praised, for pivoting quickly and with apparent ease during COVID time. If that’s so, why is my neck so sore?

Anyone who has been in ministry in the PCC for ten years or more has pivoted many times. I began in the 80s. I had to learn all about Church Growth principles and practices. Remember “Double in a Decade?” Since then, each decade has brought a new theme, a whack of resources, and a reshuffling of cards and titles and mandates. I feel like I’ve had to re-invent myself as a leader and servant at least five times. Ministry in the post-COVID church will call for yet another makeover. I’ve also pivoted from rural ministry to urban, urban to small-town/rural, back to urban (East Coast urban), and then to Midtown Toronto urban. I’ve also pivoted from the congregation to the academy and back again.

Please don’t think I’m boasting. As I’ve said, I can’t believe it myself. I feel I need to share what I decided in December, and why. I have done enough. It’s time to go and rest, at least for a while. I can go with some small satisfaction and not wait till I am totally exhausted and have no more to give to anyone. I can also go knowing the congregation I’ve been serving and trying my best to lead for the last six-and-a-half years is healthy, COVID time notwithstanding.

I worked for many years under the delusion that serving the church is the same as serving its Lord. I know now that’s rarely true. It’s been true when I’ve had the chance to serve people and make a difference in their lives. It has not been true when I’ve knocked myself out serving the institution. I don’t regret my denominational service. I regret that I let that work grow from a responsibility to a reason for being. Too many times my priorities became church or school first, family second, self, third. Sometimes there was a big gap between first and second. For all its gifts and graces, the church is an addictive organization. Some of us never make it to rehab.

I’ve had three bouts of burnout. The first was when I was still at Knox College. It took three to teach me how to read the signs and listen to my body. I also had to recover my awareness that my vocation is about the One who called and calls me, not about my need to respond with perfection. I had to learn to listen again.

I believe, and have taught that there are three dimensions of ordered ministry. There’s Vocation, God’s call to the individual, affirmed by the church. It’s a call to serve and lead the church in some way, but that’s not all of it. It’s as much a call to be as to do. There’s Office. We don’t like to use the vocabulary of hierarchy today, but there’s no denying ordination confers a peculiar kind of authority. It’s not power, but presence. Again, as much being as doing. There’s Profession, mostly doing. It’s developing and using that particular set of skills. It’s also working within a structure of accountability, with high ethical standards. Burnout can happen when the balance of those three is disturbed.

Problems arise when a person fails to live up to the profession of ministry. Sometimes ministers get carried away by delusions of the grandeur of office. Vocation can become such a personal thing that the one who once was called now believes they have an exclusive channel of communication with God. I’ve seen it all.

In COVID time, many of us have questioned how we are fulfilling our vocations, functioning in the office, and performing as the professionals we have trained and striven to be. Both clergy journals and social media report that burnout, sudden resignations, and early retirements are rampant among clergy in North America because of COVID time stress and grief. My retirement will not be one of those sad statistics.

Thanks for your attention, and patience, if you’ve read this whole opus. If you know me at all, you’ll know I could say much more. This piece has been percolating in my head for a long time. I found focus today to pour a little of it out.