Thoughts of a young urban pastor

Walking two miles to church, or even a mile to campus these days, I realize I am now officially too old to wear uncomfortable shoes. Trying to walk two miles on a blister is disabling. Too bad that probably 95% of women’s shoes, particularly ones to wear outside the gym, are uncomfortable. I worry when I go out shoe shopping, even if my feet are miserable, that I am being too materialistic. Still, one of the retired men across the street, who looks not to own much of anything, had good shoes on and admonished me that you can’t afford not to wear good shoes.

I notice on the way home that I am finally breaking in this clergy shirt. It’s not so stiff anymore. Or, perhaps this could be me; maybe I’m just getting more comfortable with the role.

I learned at supervision today that all sorts of politicking has been going on and I was unawares. I’m not in the line of fire; apparently someone chose not to invite key people to the meeting where we discussed the future of the worship program. This has led to hurt and anger. It’s funny how groups of people try to make decisions by eliminating those with opposing viewpoints from the table. There’s no sense of being able to work things through together, or that some compromise might be possible.

In a similar vein, I’m reflecting on CTS’ process of making major decisions, whether to close buildings or move them; where to move. Watching them consider the controversial South Midway Expansion, and appearing to not know that this is controversial—I realize that my congregation and its people and my seminary and its people are more intertwined with one another than the seminary realizes. Our actions have consequences and affect others, even if we don’t see them or acknowledge them.

These very same neighborhoods in which I study are now also my parish. I’m not sure they weren’t before; perhaps I just didn’t acknowledge that before. But I hear my parishioners (those in my congregation and outside) express their anger. And I wonder what best to do.