anxiety – Leadership Cohort

Before moving to Hawaii, I worked at a church in Nashville. I was the Pastor of a congregation called Emmaus Fellowship. We met in the gymnasium of a larger, mostly white commuter church. The Emmaus congregation lived within 6-8 blocks of the church and was about 50% black, 40% white, and 10% hispanic. We were made up of mostly low-income and houseless neighbors in East Nashville. While I tended to the spiritual and social needs of the congregation, I was a staff member of the larger church. Part of my role was to mediate the difference between these two disparate congregations – mostly because I knew we needed each other.

It wore me out.

I witnessed parents of teenagers at the church work to keep us from using church space. Security guards were hired to monitor entrances and hallways. Pastors would lock doors and place bars over entrances to keep Emmaus folks separated from the other church folks. In conversation with one of the youth, she confessed, “This church taught me to fear the homeless.” My friend, Old-Timer, was arrested for trespassing on church property because our church hadn’t signed a county waiver for police not to arrest folks. He was wounded – asking me a week later how his church could do this to him. Another friend (Luke) – on cold winter night – froze to death while sitting on the stairs of a church several blocks away.

I constantly struggled. Every single one of the above “happenings” required a conversation with the Senior Pastor and other pastoral staff. I was so tired – physically exhausted for having to pastor a homeless community (and all the various needs that come with it) and act as a model and prophet for other White Christians who learned to fear the poor.

Change was so slow – too slow. I wrestled with the patience it takes to exact transformation. I seemed to have infinite patience for those I ministered to – the ones who joined us on Sunday nights for a meal and liturgy. But, my patience was so thin for life-long Christians who couldn’t overcome their blindness. Anger is my base emotion – and I stewed in it with righteousness. Because of course, the over 3000 scriptural references to justice and treatment of the poor/outcasts/strangers/widows in scripture were on my side.

I think several things helped me during this time. And I’ve learned several things that I wish I had known during that time.

First, I was alone. I had a team of volunteers, but mostly, I administered/organized the liturgy/meal, and pastored throughout the week. I didn’t work on a team – I was by myself. This should never be.

Second, I did have support from the Senior Pastor. He took a long view of change and reminded me of the small transformations that were already taking place.

Third, passion goes a long way, and I was filled with it.

Fourth, I felt like was truly faithful to the call of discipleship – to be in solidarity with the poor.

I wish I had exercised every day. Seriously, nothing resets my mind, my emotions, my body like exercise. If I’m not surfing, hiking, swimming, or running 5 days a week, I’m mopey and tired. I need to move and I need to be outside.

I actually keep a list of things on my fridge. It’s a list of when I feel anxiety rise up within me (which is usually felt in a few ways: can’t sleep, shoulder/neck pain, and quickened heart rate). The list is as follows:

Play ping pong with a friend

See a movie

Read Theology

Connect with my spouse

Exercise

Call a friend

Journal

Meditate with Singing Bowl

These are my practices for dealing with the tension.

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