I cleaned out my office and turned in all my keys, except for the front door key, because Judy wouldn’t take it. The day before was my last work day, my last youth event. I’ve been released back into the wild, into the wilderness – a feral deacon.
It’s not that I was bad, although I could have been better. It’s not that the congregation was bad, although they could have been better, too. We just didn’t mesh and staff is the only place to make a change.
I’m not supposed to be wondering what to do next, I’m supposed to be faithful to a call. I considered this my calling, it was what I told everyone who asked, what I told all the review boards on the path to ordination. God’s supposed to have this plan for me to follow. So . . . what’s next? I’m ready to “fail forward,” but I don’t know where forward is.
Here’s what I’m learning about the wilderness:
It’s the place where you grieve. During those hard days and hard weeks in youth ministry, I believed there would come That Moment when everything would come together and I’d look back on these times as growing pains. But I’m not going to get That Moment and that hurts. It takes time and distance to move forward.
It’s the place where you’re sent. Some go voluntarily, but most of us are sent. Even Jesus was sent (Matthew 4:1, Mark 1:12, Luke 4:1). The Israelites were supposed to be passing through, but stayed there 40 years because they weren’t ready to claim the Promised Land.
It’s the place where you wait. You wait in the wilderness, but you have to work hard while you wait. Not having options means you have thousands of options. In between sending out resumes and prepping for interviews, I’ve been:
- Going to as many different worship services as I can, including outside my denomination. Especially outside my denomination.
- Calling everyone I know for coffee or lunch
- Learning about the nonprofits serving my city and region
- Volunteering at a homeless shelter and a youth ministry
- Very tired of hearing how God closes doors and opens windows. (Just don’t say it to anyone ever again. Ever.)
- Rebooting this blog
I explained my situation to someone last week who told me, “That happens a lot.” I’m not out here alone. Let me know if you’re one of those people. Maybe our time in the wilderness is another growing pain on the way to That Moment, whatever it is.
(Image is “Miscanti Lagoon – San Pedro de Atacama, Chile” by “Jim Trodel” on Flickr. CC BY-SA 2.0. I don’t recommend swimming there.)
The Feral Deacon 
I am in my second DECADE in the wilderness. I feel ya.
Grief.
Yep.
Waiting…
And… w a i t i n g….
check…
Sent?
Maybe so. very hard to accept, but maybe so…
I spent the night with a group of homeless folx in a city park one night a few years ago (the church I was working for at the time would not allow me to host them on our property, so I broke the law and spent the night in the park with them instead), and as we lay on the ground under the stars that night winding down and getting drifty, one of the homeless men said to me, “Welcome to our place.”
Let me do that for you.
Welcome.
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David, you never gave up and, as a result, succeeded in rebuilding our youth program. Our granddaughter greatly appreciated your allowing her to join the group and travel with them on a memorable mission trip to the Four Corners. You influenced many young lives in significant ways and they will always remember that. At the right time, another church will be fortunate enough to find you and they will be blessed. Gay Lynn
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