Monday, February 24, 2014

Pastors and Musicians

Whenever I've been asked by a parent "should my child be a musician when he/she graduates from high school?" my answer is always no. The reasoning is simple: it's a hard way to make a living. Your child will not become a star, the odds are way too long. Even if they figure out how to make a full-time living at it, it will be tough life, full of periods of hand-to-mouth existence.

And the upshot of the reasoning is this: if anyone is going to make a career out of it, it will be the kids who would do it no matter what anyone tells them.

You have to have thick skin. You have to love your art and craft so much that you are willing to spend countless solitary hours practicing it, forgo relationships to pursue it, and perhaps leave home for months on the road living it.  I was luckier than many in this, as I only had a few people directly telling me that I should quit, (although I do remember vividly my mother-in-law asking me one day when I was going to quit following "these pipe dreams.")

The only ones who will succeed are the ones who will do it no matter how many times I, or their parents or friends or family or society, tells them it is worthless.
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Yesterday was the last service and sermon at Grace First for our Senior Pastor, Steve Wirth, who I have worked with and under for ten-and-a-half years.  As I think on the road I have traveled with him serving this congregation, I am struck by the similarities in our chosen fields.  It is arduous and tough (and getting tougher to make a career in) calling that asks you to forgo much in your personal life.

Increasingly, I think the job title 'minister' or 'pastor' is losing its clout in American society today. It used to be that the role of the pastor in small-town America was one of the primary pillars of the community, right along sheriff and mayor.  As mainline churches see their numbers dwindle and the scandals among priests and clergy rock the church (not to mention the appearance of hypocrisy that many younger Americans sense in organized religion), the importance of the position in our communities has lessened.

But it is, like a musician, a career that requires not just a decision, but a sense of call.  It requires a feeling that I am made to do this, and nothing the world or family or friends tells me will change me from that path.  It requires hours, week after week, spent honing a sermon in privacy, just as a musician spends hours practicing those scales.  It requires you to pick up your family and go where the call comes from.

In my nearly 30 years in music ministry, I have been very fortunate to work alongside some very good pastors.  In particular, Mary Ellen Kilsby taught me how to care for your staff and congregation, and lead through loving example.  Steve's example has been a different one.  He leads through a quiet sense of confidence, and by listening to all of those around him and trying to build consensus.  While other pastors might have had more temporary success barging into a room and screaming "this is how we are going to do this!", Mary Ellen and Steve built long-term success by encouraging all of the people around them to grow and become leaders and creative thinkers and problem-solvers.

I think Mary Ellen had an easier job in this, in retrospect.  She had a congregation that already had a large contingent of movers and shakers.  When she led First Congregational into the Open and Affirming waters, she attracted some of the best young minds and hearts in the city to the church, people that included, CEO's, corporate Presidents, Deans and Professors, Doctors and Artistic Directors, many of whom (but not all) were gay or lesbian. FCC was one of the founding churches in Long Beach, built out of brick and mortar downtown.  It survived the 1933 earthquake and calls itself "a tower of faith in the heart of the city." When Mary Ellen led the church through an earthquake retrofit, it literally became a rock.

Steve's job has been tougher.  Grace First is more of a blue-collar congregation in a blue-collar neighborhood, sprouted in the 50's as McDonnell Douglas birthed neighborhood after neighborhood of post-WWII tract homes for assembly line workers, engineers and teachers.  There are certainly movers and shakers in the congregation: bank board chairpersons, business owners, CEO's, etc.  But they are fewer and farther between than what I knew at FCC.  Steve has had to try not only to grow a church, but to change a culture.

But he has done that, as much as he possibly can. By leading through teaching, listening and building consensus, he has set Grace First up to succeed with the new generation of leaders who will come in.  Like Moses and the promised land, he won't be there to see it thrive.  But if the congregation takes its call and learns to lead, to find new ministries and new places/ways for service, then it will thrive.  And it will have been because of Steve's leadership that it happens.  I do say if, because I think the jury is out still.  There are already calls to cut the budget and go into survival mode (which ironically will be the long-term death knell of Grace First, IMHO.) But the opportunity is there.

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Personally, I am grieving this change.  Not only has Steve been a great boss, he's been a great collaborator.  He's been supportive of all of my ideas and whims, some of which have fallen flat on their face.  But some of them have flown (the Branches, Concert Series, Taste at the Point, etc.) and redefined the church and me.  

Beyond even that, though, not only has he been a great collaborator, he's been a great friend.  He was one of the first persons I spoke to at length when I decided to divorce.  We were at Lake Tahoe for a conference, and that night talking on a bench beside the lake was one of the most healing moments in my life.  He was there at my bachelor party 5 years later, toasting me with my ragtag group of friends: the Deadhead, the comedian, the recluse, the musician/photographer, the habitual chronic liar, the librarian, and the pastor.  He fit right in.  We were the beginning of a bad joke: "This deadhead, librarian, musician and pastor walk into this bar..."

One of the reasons going into music as a career can be so rewarding is that you know - even if you don't get to see it tangibly every day - that you are making a positive difference in peoples' lives.  That is the other area where the Pastor and the musician are alike.  No matter what happens in the remainder of Steve's career and life, the people of this church and this community have been forever and irrevocably changed for the better.  Steve will say it is because it was the love and justice of Jesus Christ working through him that changed their lives, to which I can nod my head. But in truth, I think it had a lot more to do with him than he will ever know.

Godspeed, Pastor Steve. I will be forever grateful for the lessons you taught me and the support you showed me. My life is forever and irrevocably changed because of you. 

To my friend, Steve: I'm going to miss the hell out of you.  Let me know when you are in town, and let's go get a beer...

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