A Broken Heart

                                                   A Broken Heart


He wasn't entirely old by working world standards, about 62, but in ministry terms he felt 90. He drove over to the next town twenty-five miles away to be alone and not be recognized by any church members. Besides that little town had a neat park with a little lake and at 42 degrees that afternoon the chances were he'd have a park bench, if not the lake, to himself. It was a bit dumb, at least he felt that way, but he wanted to get cold and shiver and feel, feel anything even if it was pain for a while. That would surely beat this numbing pall and depression that had settled over him.

He found a bench and found himself alone with his pity. He was a few hours from standing before his elder board and announcing he was quitting. After thirty eight years in various forms of ministry he was finished, tired, worn out. It was over. He thought the thought of quitting would bother him, scare him, saddened him. It hadn't. He was worried about finances a little but not much else. That fact alone, that the idea that quitting hadn't bothered him much bothered him most. So here he was, alone, thinking, praying, wondering, seeking and trying to hurt.

He hadn't noticed a man had come right up behind him. He about jumped out of his wits when the man spoke..."it's a bit brisk isn't it? I kind of like it. This cold wind makes me feel alive and invigorated. And this is my favorite bench too, mind if I sit here a bit with you?" Before the old pastor could speak his new bench guest was down beside him. He wanted to protest. He wanted to leave. But he was a pastor, he had been trained to tolerate, stay, listen, like a good dog. He was paid to be nice. The meanest thing he could muster was silence. The way the stranger had started off, he was afraid that the intruder would start chatting. He didn't. He sat silent. The old pastor noticed the man was younger, maybe early thirties, thin. He seemed thoughtful and if there is such a thing as a gentle demeanor, he had it. Yes, he felt he'd been invaded, but the invader wasn't aggressive, thankfully.

After being quiet a while, the younger man spoke. "I love lakes...come to them often... the sound...the rhythm, they have a healing touch for me. I've not seen you here before. Are you from around here?" "No," the old pastor gave in a bit, " down the road a bit. I just needed to be alone and think." Maybe the younger man would take the hint. He didn't.  They were silent a while longer. The young man spoke gently again. "Aren't you a pastor, I seem to recall your presiding over some funerals I've attended."  "You are observant. I pastor in the next town over, at least for a little while longer?"  "Oh, are you changing churches?'' The young man's gentle manner, quietness, and manner of speech had some how  won confidence from the old preacher. He wasn't sure why but he began to tell the young man what was going on in his heart and head.

"To be honest, in about four hours I will walk into an elder board meeting I called and announce I'm quitting. I just don't think I can do this anymore." "Well, sir, let me be honest with you," the younger offered.  "I'm in the ministry, too, and maybe I showed up here today to listen to you.  Maybe that will help a bit, it's pretty obvious you are hurting."   "Well, thanks. I wish that were true. The trouble is I'm almost beyond hurting. I don't know if I can hurt anymore."  "What brought you to this point where you are about to leave nearly 40  years of ministry?" ("Odd, I don't remember telling this young man how long I'd been in the ministry. He's pretty observant, pretty obvious with a little math I guess." ) "Well, it's not one thing, it is a lot of things, seems like everything. This world I can hardly recognize anymore. The work of ministry is getting harder and harder. The church seems so irrelevant. Our morals are in the toilet. In Arizona, it is illegal to have home churches in some towns. New York kicked churches out of schools they had rented for services for decades. The Supreme Court had to rule on that case to let them in. If you hold to Biblical values anymore you are the minority and are called bigoted and intolerant. Our demonination is debating same-sex marriage. They are actually debating it! I can't remember the last time a young couple wanted me to marry them that wasn't living together. Shoot, older couples are coming to me to be married and they have already moved in together. This moralistic, therapeutic, deism in our world is killing us and I don't think I'm having any effect whatsoever in moving people to faith or along in the faith. I might as well quit!"

The old preacher got it out finally. The pain, confusion, the frustration just flooded out. The young man listened. He listened well. He mumbled barely audible words while the old preacher went off. He said something about Elijah in I Kings 19: 13-14. When the preacher hit on the ills of the world he said something about John on Patmos and saints in catacombs. But mostly he just listened. Finally, after the smoke of the pastor's rant had cleared a bit, he asked the a question: "If you could sum up in one sentence why you are leaving the ministry you were called to and loved for so long, what would it be?"
"I guess you could say that my ministry has just died... it died of a broken heart..."
The young may stood and pulled his coat around him a little tighter and extended a hand to shake the old pastor's hand goodbye.  The old man reach to take his hand and noticed an ugly scar on his wrist. The young man held the old man's hand firm. The old man looked up and saw the younger gazing deeply into his eyes, more like his own soul really. "A broken heart, huh? Ironically, that's why I went into ministry."

Revelation 3:11-13