I guess I’m on sabbatical now for a month. And it pushed me to blog again – maybe I’ll dust off some of my ancient posts for here.

This is a new way of being for me, as I’m the type of minister that works works works until my body and mind can’t work anymore. I get it, that’s unhealthy. I preach on self-care all the time — I ask people to double down on self-care especially given the world we are in right now. What good are we if we don’t take care of ourselves?

But this is part and particle of my personality. I’ve always been a Type-A, INTJ, Enneagram 5. Those are unscientific monikers, but there’s a grain of truth to these broad labels. I’m exacting, devoted, and deeply in love with religion. So, having that as my work and calling is part of the drive.

Here I am, though, taking time off. Seven months into this pandemic where several ministers have been working every day of the week, burning themselves out, and navigating unhealthy habits — it’s time to take self-care seriously, to finish my dissertation, and to reemerge with healthier boundaries for myself and the wonderful congregation I serve.

You can read the words of other ministers who, while having differing opinions, all share similar struggles. Here’s one, another one, and yet another one. Happy reading! But we must also face the effects of this burnout. I have colleagues resigning nationwide. I do not want to let go of ministry, so this time is a way of saying “No” to the looming burnout.

We are all navigating what this means as caregivers, friends, parents, spouses, etc. And as I live and breath church, I feel our religious institutions are suffering greatly. Not a suffering that is all painful, but a suffering that has the possibility of being generative and emergent. Asking the question “What are the possibilities when we don’t know where we are going” is so much easier than living it. We are so living it. There is little room for lofty pondering now.

This also means figuring out what ministry means. I love being a minister, I love my work, I love the faith I serve. Every day is something new, even when it feels like my own denomination is savoring internal squabbles far too readily. Yet I need to still ask, what is ministry now? Is it being present more than ever? It is. Is it editing videos, staring into a camera, and missing the people I serve? It’s that, too.

Recently, here in Kentucky, the skippers have been feasting on the zinnias with great regularity. There’s a cloud of them that flutters upon my approach — a cloud that is diminishing as the evenings and mornings get cooler. But the skippers are quite a beautiful sight. Their muted wings and fat bodies. Furry faces and large obsidian — fully aware eyes. They land on my arms and hands and sit there. I don’t quite know the philosophical pondering of a skipper, but I’m sure it boils down to: Survive!

Perhaps that is philosophy enough. Emerge. Survive. Flutter. Feast. Journey on. I look to the skippers as Autumn comes barreling along. I look to their delight and their diminishing numbers. “Autumn wins you best by this; its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay” — so Browning reminds us. I am won over and relish in the skippers as this sabbath time unfolds. What will emerge next?