Last week I wrote a post about how it had been a year since I had left the Lutheran Student Center.
After having a conversation with a Good Friend, I realize I wasn't entirely fair in that post.
I think I surprised even myself last week with the emotions that came bubbling to the surface as I wrote, and I allowed those emotions to cloud my writing. The emotions are real--very, very real, and it would be both unfair and unwise to disregard them. But this isn't just a personal little black diary that I keep locked away in a drawer somewhere for nobody's eyes but mine. This is a public forum and I hold some responsibility...heck, a lot of responsibility for the way things are said and the way it makes people look.
An airing of grievances might be a part of Festivus (one of the best Seinfeld episodes ever, btw), but without a balance of compassion and understanding they do nobody any good.
And what I failed to do in my original post was acknowledge that through the whole thing, there was never any doubt in anyone's mind that everyone had the best interests of LSC, the students, the board, and the staff at heart. We had all been thrown into an extremely difficult situation that had gone on for a long time--we had all endured the pain of loss, the floundering of trying to keep the ship of ministry on course, the uncertainty of finances...you name the demon, chances are we all had come face-to-face with it at some point in the previous 2 years.
But through it all, the one thing that never changed was the goodwill and love of the board, staff, and students. That's one thing I never questioned at the time, and one thing I still don't question.
Yes, I wanted to stay longer. And yes I was surprised when after the subject was broached that things happened as quickly as they did. But it ended up being a combination of good intentions (after the first worship service of the year, I had no more responsibilities, yet was paid for the full month of January in an attempt to help me out while I looked for another job) and bad timing (pure coincidence that this all came to a head over semester break).
I really didn't realize this until last week, but I guess some unconscious part of me has been afraid all year that the students, staff, board, and supporters of LSC have thought that I let them down, that I left them high and dry. Reflecting on it now, I think that's where all this emotion came from. While I fully realize that I made plenty of mistakes, I've wondered if people thought I didn't try hard enough, or gave up on it all.
A lot of what you read in that other post was not so much the Festivus "airing of grievances," but LutheranHusker's "airing of insecurities." And as is the case many times when it comes to insecurity, the finger was pointing outward instead of searching for the real heart of the matter.
Here's the bottom line: God is good, even when circumstances are not. God remains faithful to us, even when we find it hard to be faithful. God grows us, stretches us, changes us, transforms us through prosperity, but mostly through adversity. We may not know what we're doing, we may be running around like little mice in a maze, we may make mistakes, but God uses those times to draw us closer to him. Through our own weaknesses, we end up being strengthened.
And when flawed but faithful people try to do good things in God's name, amazing things can happen. Miracles happen. Our Good Friday mournings lead to Easter mornings. I've seen it. I've seen it through the work of LSC. I've seen it through the faithfulness of the people who give their blood, sweat and tears so that students can catch a glimpse of God's goodness and grace. I've seen it in my own life.
Good Friend, you know who you are. Thanks for the conversation. Thanks for your faithfulness. And please accept my deepest apology.
LH
Showing posts with label LSC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label LSC. Show all posts
Friday, February 09, 2007
Thursday, February 01, 2007
It's been quite the year...
Last night while lying in bed, waiting to fall asleep, I had one of those nighttime revelations:
A year ago today was the first day that I was no longer officially employed by the Lutheran Student Center.
It's been a year. Man, how time both flies and stands perfectly still all at once.
I miss campus ministry...a lot. Don't get me wrong--I'm very happy where I am and with what I'm doing, but there's just something about campus ministry that can't be replicated in a "normal" congregation. Maybe it's the academic setting, maybe it's just that college students are at that time in their lives when they're struggling to define who they are and questioning what they believe, maybe it's because for the first time in many of their lives they are grasping hold of their faith and making it their own (which is what confirmation is supposed to be about, except we confirm kids when they're entirely too young...but that's a subject for a different post). It's probably a combination of a number of factors, but it doesn't get much cooler than a campus ministry setting.
So today I'm feeling a little melancholy. And a little hurt, I think. The way my leaving came about last year...it wasn't supposed to happen the way it did. My salary was draining LSC's budget, I had spent so much time and energy trying to keep LSC's ministries afloat for the University of Nebraska's students that the ministries at Wesleyan and Southeast Community College were basically starting from scratch, and I had come to the painful realization that sooner or later, something drastic was going to need to change. I had every intent of staying at least through the end of the school year, but once word got out over Christmas break that I wasn't planning on staying, it was decided that it would be best if I were to leave right away.
I hope the students didn't get the impression that I bailed on them, because I didn't. I feel really bad about the way that happened. They had left for Christmas break, I had told them I'd see them when they got back, and the Monday they returned I was gone. I was able to be a part of Sunday worship the day before classes started, but that was only because I insisted that I should at least be given the opportunity to say goodbye in person. I really would have preferred doing it the following week, because there were a lot of students still not back yet. But the decision wasn't mine to make.
Others who have left have had a reception, or a party, or some sort of acknowledgement that they made a positive impact. Looking back, I now realize I was thanked very nicely and quietly shown the door.
It's not about me, it really isn't. It's about the way everything looked. It looked as though I was sneaking out shamefully, as if I had done something wrong or underhanded. It looked as though I was waiting for the students to leave for break so I could pack up my office and get outta town. It looked, by my hasty and quiet departure, as though I had been caught doing something I shouldn't have. People leaving under good circumstances get a party. Those who have done wrong do not. I knew I was leaving with my head held high, I'm just afraid others may have seen what happened and wondered.
Bottom line is that my program hadn't yet run out of money, but the writing was on the wall, and I felt it would have been bad stewardship to go try to raise enough funds to prop things up for a couple extra months. I wanted to stay and help longer than I did, but I was unfortunately not given that option.
And I'm proud...very proud...of the work God was able to do through me during my time at LSC. I was there during one of the most difficult periods in its history, and worked my butt off, even though I didn't know what the hell I was doing half the time. I know I made plenty of mistakes, and I know there's plenty I could have done better, but I will ALWAYS look back on those 2 1/2 years with great love for the center and the students and with pride in the work I did.
I found my resignation letter...here's what I wrote:
Dear LSC Board and students,
It is with mixed emotions that I write this letter to resign my position as the Lutheran Student Center’s Director of Campus Ministry for Southeast Community College and Nebraska Wesleyan University, effective February 1, 2006.
It’s been a pretty incredible road God has led us down these past two years. Nobody, myself included, could have imagined everything that has happened. Though stretches of this road have been extremely difficult, God has done some amazing things through it all.
This is not a decision I have made lightly. I’ve loved my time at LSC, I’ve enjoyed the challenges of outreach ministry, and I’ve made some relationships that I will treasure for a long time. It has been unfortunate that the challenges LSC has faced recently have come at a time when a fledgling ministry was trying to take shape, both programmatically and financially. Recently, it’s been increasingly obvious that the SCC/NWU ministry has become a financial drain on LSC, at a time when LSC’s own budget faces uncertainty.
For the sake of LSC’s core program, the SCC/NWU ministry needs to be able to stand on its own. Due to a number of factors outside anybody’s control, we’re not at a point where that will be able to happen anytime soon. Out of fairness to everybody, a decision needed to be made relatively quickly as to what should be done—either fight on and try to raise a large amount of financial support while at the same time rebuilding two programs still in their infancy that have taken a big hit this past year, or to let it go. After examination of all the factors, some long talks with my family and much prayer, I believe the best decision for LSC and its future, as well as my and my family’s future, is to let it go.
I was at a text study the other week, and one of the texts was 2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16. In it, King David decides that since he lives in a house, but the Lord (the Ark of the Covenant) only lives in a tent, that he should build the Lord a permanent temple. He asks the prophet Nathan what he thinks. Nathan at first says it’s a good idea, but after the Lord speaks to him, goes back to King David and says that God said not to do it. One of the pastors at the text study said the theme he took away from this passage is, “when I’ve made big plans and have everything in place ready to serve God, how do I react when God says ‘No, not right now’?”
For one reason or another, God seems to be saying “no, not right now” to the SCC/NWU ministry. LSC is at a delicate point in its history. We’ve recently lost a beloved long-time pastor, we’ve gone over a year now without full-time pastoral support, we’re searching for a new pastor and seem to be on the cusp of some big but exciting changes. I’m thankful to have been here through this time, and hope that I have been some help. I leave with many questions about my future, but with no ill feelings about the way things have gone. I hope the same is true for each of you in regards to me and the SCC/NWU ministry.
I wish for you all God’s blessings in your lives and in the individual ministries to which God has called you. Thank you for the dedication you have shown LSC through a difficult time, and thank you for all you have done for me personally as well.
In Christ,
LH
A year ago today was the first day that I was no longer officially employed by the Lutheran Student Center.
It's been a year. Man, how time both flies and stands perfectly still all at once.
I miss campus ministry...a lot. Don't get me wrong--I'm very happy where I am and with what I'm doing, but there's just something about campus ministry that can't be replicated in a "normal" congregation. Maybe it's the academic setting, maybe it's just that college students are at that time in their lives when they're struggling to define who they are and questioning what they believe, maybe it's because for the first time in many of their lives they are grasping hold of their faith and making it their own (which is what confirmation is supposed to be about, except we confirm kids when they're entirely too young...but that's a subject for a different post). It's probably a combination of a number of factors, but it doesn't get much cooler than a campus ministry setting.
So today I'm feeling a little melancholy. And a little hurt, I think. The way my leaving came about last year...it wasn't supposed to happen the way it did. My salary was draining LSC's budget, I had spent so much time and energy trying to keep LSC's ministries afloat for the University of Nebraska's students that the ministries at Wesleyan and Southeast Community College were basically starting from scratch, and I had come to the painful realization that sooner or later, something drastic was going to need to change. I had every intent of staying at least through the end of the school year, but once word got out over Christmas break that I wasn't planning on staying, it was decided that it would be best if I were to leave right away.
I hope the students didn't get the impression that I bailed on them, because I didn't. I feel really bad about the way that happened. They had left for Christmas break, I had told them I'd see them when they got back, and the Monday they returned I was gone. I was able to be a part of Sunday worship the day before classes started, but that was only because I insisted that I should at least be given the opportunity to say goodbye in person. I really would have preferred doing it the following week, because there were a lot of students still not back yet. But the decision wasn't mine to make.
Others who have left have had a reception, or a party, or some sort of acknowledgement that they made a positive impact. Looking back, I now realize I was thanked very nicely and quietly shown the door.
It's not about me, it really isn't. It's about the way everything looked. It looked as though I was sneaking out shamefully, as if I had done something wrong or underhanded. It looked as though I was waiting for the students to leave for break so I could pack up my office and get outta town. It looked, by my hasty and quiet departure, as though I had been caught doing something I shouldn't have. People leaving under good circumstances get a party. Those who have done wrong do not. I knew I was leaving with my head held high, I'm just afraid others may have seen what happened and wondered.
Bottom line is that my program hadn't yet run out of money, but the writing was on the wall, and I felt it would have been bad stewardship to go try to raise enough funds to prop things up for a couple extra months. I wanted to stay and help longer than I did, but I was unfortunately not given that option.
And I'm proud...very proud...of the work God was able to do through me during my time at LSC. I was there during one of the most difficult periods in its history, and worked my butt off, even though I didn't know what the hell I was doing half the time. I know I made plenty of mistakes, and I know there's plenty I could have done better, but I will ALWAYS look back on those 2 1/2 years with great love for the center and the students and with pride in the work I did.
I found my resignation letter...here's what I wrote:
Dear LSC Board and students,
It is with mixed emotions that I write this letter to resign my position as the Lutheran Student Center’s Director of Campus Ministry for Southeast Community College and Nebraska Wesleyan University, effective February 1, 2006.
It’s been a pretty incredible road God has led us down these past two years. Nobody, myself included, could have imagined everything that has happened. Though stretches of this road have been extremely difficult, God has done some amazing things through it all.
This is not a decision I have made lightly. I’ve loved my time at LSC, I’ve enjoyed the challenges of outreach ministry, and I’ve made some relationships that I will treasure for a long time. It has been unfortunate that the challenges LSC has faced recently have come at a time when a fledgling ministry was trying to take shape, both programmatically and financially. Recently, it’s been increasingly obvious that the SCC/NWU ministry has become a financial drain on LSC, at a time when LSC’s own budget faces uncertainty.
For the sake of LSC’s core program, the SCC/NWU ministry needs to be able to stand on its own. Due to a number of factors outside anybody’s control, we’re not at a point where that will be able to happen anytime soon. Out of fairness to everybody, a decision needed to be made relatively quickly as to what should be done—either fight on and try to raise a large amount of financial support while at the same time rebuilding two programs still in their infancy that have taken a big hit this past year, or to let it go. After examination of all the factors, some long talks with my family and much prayer, I believe the best decision for LSC and its future, as well as my and my family’s future, is to let it go.
I was at a text study the other week, and one of the texts was 2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16. In it, King David decides that since he lives in a house, but the Lord (the Ark of the Covenant) only lives in a tent, that he should build the Lord a permanent temple. He asks the prophet Nathan what he thinks. Nathan at first says it’s a good idea, but after the Lord speaks to him, goes back to King David and says that God said not to do it. One of the pastors at the text study said the theme he took away from this passage is, “when I’ve made big plans and have everything in place ready to serve God, how do I react when God says ‘No, not right now’?”
For one reason or another, God seems to be saying “no, not right now” to the SCC/NWU ministry. LSC is at a delicate point in its history. We’ve recently lost a beloved long-time pastor, we’ve gone over a year now without full-time pastoral support, we’re searching for a new pastor and seem to be on the cusp of some big but exciting changes. I’m thankful to have been here through this time, and hope that I have been some help. I leave with many questions about my future, but with no ill feelings about the way things have gone. I hope the same is true for each of you in regards to me and the SCC/NWU ministry.
I wish for you all God’s blessings in your lives and in the individual ministries to which God has called you. Thank you for the dedication you have shown LSC through a difficult time, and thank you for all you have done for me personally as well.
In Christ,
LH
Monday, November 20, 2006
Happy Birthday, my friend...
Pastor Larry Meyer was my friend and mentor, as he was to countless people across the country and around the world. For those of you who may not have had the privilege of meeting Larry, he was the ELCA campus pastor for the Lutheran Student Center at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln from 1989 until his death from esophegeal cancer in 2005. He served universities in Washington and South Dakota before that.
Tomorrow, November 21, would have been Larry's 60th birthday. One of his daughters wrote an incredible email that she's given me permission to share with you here. This Thanksgiving, and every day, may we all be truly thankful for the blessings God has given us.
Larry, the can of crappy beer I'll be drinking on Friday after the Nebraska-Colorado game will be in your honor. Happy Birthday, my friend...
Here's the email:
Dear friends and fam...
Tomorrow, November 21, is my dad's birthday. This year would be his 60th. Thanksgiving in the Meyer household has traditionally been a two holiday week. Amidst the feast preparation, we'd all be scrambling to figure out what the heck to get dad for his special day. He, of course, was no help - always claiming that he didn't want or need anything. But, since it's a birthday and you get gifts for birthdays, we'd hunt for unique VW memorabilia, a college dad sweatshirt, or if
all else failed, new work gloves for dad's big day. And after the turkey and potatoes and pie, we'd sing a happy birthday song and open his gifts, tossing them aside quickly in order not to miss kickoff and the afternoon ball game.
Dad's connection to Thanksgiving seems only appropriate. With its no frills approach, you see what you get with Thanksgiving. Lots of food and family - all you need to be grateful for. The perfect Thanksgiving, in dad's opinion, would consist of sauerkraut, the Huskers playing Colorado, and no one in the house starting a car once all day. Forget the over the top decorations, loads of gifts or commercialization - that's for the month to come. Thanksgiving, pure and simple, is about being grateful.
Last year was the first year that we mourned dad's absence on both his birthday and Thanksgiving. This year, strangely enough, the void where he belongs appears to be just as gaping. I guess there are truly some wounds that time just can't heal.
And so, in the midst of this dreary message, I write to you - friends who also hold my father dear to their hearts, even if just through their connection of friendship with me. Selfishly, it's therapeutic for me to honor dad and share his memory...and still I write to you and ask you to help remember him this year, to help celebrate the 60 years he's made an impact, if not all on this earthly place. So as my dad would tell me, "Hot shot, stop your bellyachin' and get to the
point." And I will.
This year on Thanksgiving just be thankful. Be thankful for those things that bring you much joy and those that bring you great pain - because both remind you of how lucky you are to be alive and feel so fully. Be thankful that the sun shines and that Thanksgiving day will come and go into another day that is meant to be embraced. Two springs ago, with cancer ravaging his body, my dad told my sister from his living room hospice bed. "Well, not much is happening. We've got the screen door open, and the wind is blowing. It's sunny and beautiful out: I just can't complain about a thing."
Oh that we might all have such grateful spirits.
So this year thank God for the little things, the big things, and the ability and power to be thankful at all. And somewhere, in the heaven he now knows, my dad will be changing oil in a car in 108 degree weather while football plays on the radio. And he'll grin one of his classic cheesy grins. And it will be Thanksgiving.
Bless you.
Mariah
T.A.(P)D.
Tomorrow, November 21, would have been Larry's 60th birthday. One of his daughters wrote an incredible email that she's given me permission to share with you here. This Thanksgiving, and every day, may we all be truly thankful for the blessings God has given us.
Larry, the can of crappy beer I'll be drinking on Friday after the Nebraska-Colorado game will be in your honor. Happy Birthday, my friend...
Here's the email:
Dear friends and fam...
Tomorrow, November 21, is my dad's birthday. This year would be his 60th. Thanksgiving in the Meyer household has traditionally been a two holiday week. Amidst the feast preparation, we'd all be scrambling to figure out what the heck to get dad for his special day. He, of course, was no help - always claiming that he didn't want or need anything. But, since it's a birthday and you get gifts for birthdays, we'd hunt for unique VW memorabilia, a college dad sweatshirt, or if
all else failed, new work gloves for dad's big day. And after the turkey and potatoes and pie, we'd sing a happy birthday song and open his gifts, tossing them aside quickly in order not to miss kickoff and the afternoon ball game.
Dad's connection to Thanksgiving seems only appropriate. With its no frills approach, you see what you get with Thanksgiving. Lots of food and family - all you need to be grateful for. The perfect Thanksgiving, in dad's opinion, would consist of sauerkraut, the Huskers playing Colorado, and no one in the house starting a car once all day. Forget the over the top decorations, loads of gifts or commercialization - that's for the month to come. Thanksgiving, pure and simple, is about being grateful.
Last year was the first year that we mourned dad's absence on both his birthday and Thanksgiving. This year, strangely enough, the void where he belongs appears to be just as gaping. I guess there are truly some wounds that time just can't heal.
And so, in the midst of this dreary message, I write to you - friends who also hold my father dear to their hearts, even if just through their connection of friendship with me. Selfishly, it's therapeutic for me to honor dad and share his memory...and still I write to you and ask you to help remember him this year, to help celebrate the 60 years he's made an impact, if not all on this earthly place. So as my dad would tell me, "Hot shot, stop your bellyachin' and get to the
point." And I will.
This year on Thanksgiving just be thankful. Be thankful for those things that bring you much joy and those that bring you great pain - because both remind you of how lucky you are to be alive and feel so fully. Be thankful that the sun shines and that Thanksgiving day will come and go into another day that is meant to be embraced. Two springs ago, with cancer ravaging his body, my dad told my sister from his living room hospice bed. "Well, not much is happening. We've got the screen door open, and the wind is blowing. It's sunny and beautiful out: I just can't complain about a thing."
Oh that we might all have such grateful spirits.
So this year thank God for the little things, the big things, and the ability and power to be thankful at all. And somewhere, in the heaven he now knows, my dad will be changing oil in a car in 108 degree weather while football plays on the radio. And he'll grin one of his classic cheesy grins. And it will be Thanksgiving.
Bless you.
Mariah
T.A.(P)D.
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