I am 45 years old as I write this, which puts me squarely at mid-career. I turned 25 the summer I graduated from seminary, and 65 is the age at which I will theoretically retire, though that’s hard to imagine for multiple reasons.

My peers have started to use this midway point to evaluate their ministries and the trajectory of their lives, which I think is a great idea. Here are some of the questions that I think those of us in our 40s need to be considering:

Vocational

How has my call to ministry evolved over time? I went to seminary to prepare for youth ministry, partly because I had never seen a woman in a lead or associate pastor role. I have worked with youth, but most of my ministry has been as a solo or associate pastor and now as a coach. The essentials haven’t changed, just the shape of how I have lived them out. It can both unleash our imaginations and give us an appreciation of what we have done and learned and survived to look back at the twists, turns, and constants in our vocational journey.

How do I fit with where the Church is heading? The Church is - rightfully so - in a big shift. For some of us that is really good news, and we’re excited to see what comes of this transformation. For others of us this reality is daunting, because the Church of today and tomorrow is very different than the Church we were trained to lead. We need to consider where we want to locate ourselves in relationship to where the Church is now and where it might be headed.

What knowledge have I gained in the first half of my vocational life, and how do I want to use it for good? We don’t go through 20 years of ministry without learning a whole lot - about ourselves, about the God we serve and the Jesus we follow, and about the Church and world. Let’s use that hard-wrought wisdom!

What new challenges do I want to take on in the second half of my vocational life, and what skills will I need to develop? This isn’t necessarily about looking for a new context or role, although it could be. It’s more about considering how we want to grow. What tools do I want to add to my toolkit that would benefit my congregation and me, or even that would just bring delight to them and me?

What legacy do I want to leave in my congregation, larger community, and the Church at large? Maybe this relates to the wellbeing we foster in our communities. Maybe it’s creating pathways of welcome for those who need it most. Maybe it’s naming the gifts in others that they can’t see without help. We can’t control what others say about us once we are gone, but we can do what we’re able to infuse our environments with love and hope.

Personal

How do I navigate the realities of being in the Sandwich Generation? I have a child who is 10 and still wants to be close to his mom most of the time (though that could change at any moment). I have a mom who is 70, hangs out with friends multiple times a week, volunteers in her community, and goes on trips by herself (though that could change at any moment). I feel the tug to be with both my son and my mom. I am not alone, as many of my peers - having gotten into the parenting game late like me - have young children and parents who need increasing amounts of help. How do we roll with this, even as we also serve in a vocation that is physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and sometimes financially taxing?

What is my financial situation? It is generally held that mine is the first generation in a while that has not done better money-wise than previous generations. (This might only be true for demographics that have benefitted from generational wealth.) Many of my peers carry loads of debt from school or mortgages or credit cards. Some denominations offer salary guidelines and generous pensions for ministers, while in others we’re on our own to negotiate pay and choose and invest in retirement funds. Now is a good time to assess our entire money picture, looking both backward and forward to make a plan. Thinking and talking about money is not crass. It is a means of care for ourselves and the people we love.

What support systems have I built for now and for later? In ministry our worlds can become very small. We can mostly know and hang around people in our church and our clergy colleagues. We need bigger circles of care for now and later, including both non-churchy (or at least not our church) friends and professional caregivers such as a primary care doctor we trust and a therapist we can confide in.

Mid-career is a great time for intention-setting. We’re not newbies anymore to ministry or to adulting. We know some things. We probably have some stability, though maybe not as much as we’d like. We want to make our remaining professional years count but not crispy-fry ourselves in the process. I hope these questions can help you in looking forward and backward, and I’d love to hear what questions you’d add to this list.

Photo by Luke van Zyl on Unsplash.

Lately I have heard many variations of one question: what does sustainability in ministry - in anything - look like in this weird, hard time? It’s a great question. Thriving might feel out of reach right now for those who are really struggling. (By the way, it’s ok to struggle. We all do sometimes!) But maybe we can reasonably aspire to durability until the possibility of flourishing breaks the plain of our horizon.

Here are some thoughts about what we might be able to say if we are locked into sustainability:

I am not in this alone. I have people. People to minister alongside, peers in ministry I can be honest and strategize with, loved ones beyond my work context who welcome my entire self.

I/we have the means to figure this out. Our world is serving up a lot of sticky wickets. But neither is the challenge too high nor my/our talents too negligible to deal with what is before me/us, even if there’s a lot of trial and error involved.

I can take a break without the world crashing down around me. I know that everything is not riding on me - or that if it is, I and those around me could use a lived reminder that that’s not healthy.

I am good (and so are others). Not perfect, mind you, but fearfully and wonderfully made and deeply loved just as I am by God.

I see glimmers of where I/we are making an impact. I am not just shouting into the void - at least not all of the time. I am helping some people feel seen and be connected to God and one another, and I am planting other seeds that might bear fruit I never know of.

I can laugh - and laugh about more than just the absurdity of things. There is delight in my world through the things I take in via my senses and through the people I encounter.

I am using my gifts, even if it’s not in the ways I expected. Who knew that this talent could be put to that use? Well, now I do.

I have room to maneuver. I can’t control everything, as much as I’d like to be able to. But there are some areas where I can and do exercise some agency.

I might not be the biggest fan of this season of life/ministry, but it is only a season. I know things won’t be this hard forever.

I notice and respond kindly to what my body is telling me. I need sleep. I need food. I need a brain break. I need an appointment with my doctor or therapist. Our bodies are our wonderfully made to give us the information we require to take care of them - and they are so very worthy of that tending.

I am growing in my sense of who I am and what I can do. There is some sense of wonder: “could it be that I am here for such a time as this?” This time might not be my first choice, but it is the time I have.

Which of these statements apply to you? What are some tweaks you could make to grow into the ones that don’t? What statements would you add to or take away from this list?

Photo by Appolinary Kalashnikova on Unsplash.

Note: I wrote but did not publish this reflection one year ago upon attending my last The Young Clergy Women Project/Young Clergy Women International conference. I offer it now as clergywomen from a number of denominations and locales gather in St. Louis.

I departed my first – the first – Young Clergy Women Project conference in inner turmoil. In 2007 I was floundering in ministry. As a moderate-to-progressive Baptist, congregations in northwest Alabama that aligned with my theology were scarce, and open positions in them were rare. Yet as the spouse of a United Methodist pastor under appointment, I had no say in where I lived. Just before the conference I was called to a staff position at a nearby church. This opportunity was a huge relief to my self-esteem and my bank account. I would be in ministry full time! With benefits! My start date was set for the Sunday after I returned home from the conference at the Cathedral College of Preachers in Washington, DC.

My relief morphed into exhilaration and then plummeted to an “oh, crap” feeling over the course of the TYCWP conference. Something in me was unleashed through that gathering of clergywomen, through our study and practice of homiletics. Maybe it was my preaching voice. Maybe it was clarity about the shape of my call. Maybe it was a sense that I was settling for a position that didn’t match my gifts in a setting that had already shown glimmers of toxicity. Whatever it was, it told me I had no business beginning my new position. As I traveled home, my husband was on a retreat and unavailable to help me process. My parents could only commiserate. So I went to work that Sunday, a sour feeling in my gut.

As you might imagine, the eight months I served at that church were not pretty. (I claim my part in the debacle. I was too fearful to heed the gut-jabbing elbows of the Holy Spirit.) In the end, I was forced out. I probably would no longer be in ministry after that experience. Except…I now had a community of YCWs who had helped me claim a new understanding of my ministry at the conference. Who afterward accompanied me through the many low points of my short-lived job. Who picked me back up when I was emotionally, spiritually, mentally, and sometimes even physically prostrate following my resignation.

And so, as frantic as my inner monologue and as chaotic as my vocational life became out of that first TYCWP conference, I couldn’t imagine not going to the next one. In fact, I’ve been to all of them but one, which got pushed off my calendar by a mission trip. All of them have been great. A few have been life-altering.

The conference is (by far) my most extroverted week of the year, when I float between groups of conference participants, skip naps and stay up late for conversations – if you know me well, you get that this is not my usual M.O. – and drink up all the wisdom and laughter I can. Those of us who have been attending conferences since those early days get to check in annually after tracking one another’s family additions and losses, changes in positions, and cross-country moves on social media throughout the year prior. Those of us older young clergy women also get to welcome first-time attendees and learn about the latest practices and resources from pastors just coming out of seminary.

This month’s Young Clergy Women International conference – the organization, like my own tenure in ministry, is no longer tenuous – was my last one, as I’ll turn 40 shortly. It felt like coming full circle. I arrived at the closing worship with a settled spirit, celebrating that I am feeling more creative and productive in ministry than ever before. After the sermon, proclaimer Casey Wait asked each participant to describe herself with a single word, to tell that word to another YCW, and to receive affirmation and anointing from that colleague. My word came immediately: encourager. Some YCWs laughed and nodded in confirmation when I told them my word.  I am an encourager. I am an encourager because so many YCWs have encouraged me by recognizing and calling forth my gifts, by sharing with me about the amazing ministry they are doing, and by telling me to rock my new haircut. I am who I am as a person and pastor in large part because of this community. And I am ready to leave it in the capable hands of young clergy women, which I no longer am, and support it from afar as I re-join friends who have gone on to the alumnae group.

Bless you, YCWI. Keep on doing great things for the people of God, in the name of God.

Navigating search & call is complicated for clergy. There are so many variables in the process, and it’s hard to know much weight to give to each. I want to offer two things to those of you seeking a new ministerial position: a word of encouragement and a formula.

First, the encouragement. I believe there is more than one great-fit position out there for you. The pieces of ministry that give you life can be found in a range of congregations, and you have many gifts that will be well-leveraged in a number of places. I hope this assertion takes some of the pressure off as you weigh your opportunities, particularly when you are dealing with mismatched search timelines (e.g., should I withdraw from this process that I’m a finalist in to explore a relationship with another search team that is about to start initial interviews?).

And now, the formula. If you’re having trouble discerning what a great fit looks like for you, consider the visual below.

There are two overriding aspects of fit: vocation and circumstances. Vocation is your purpose in ministry, the essence of what God has called you to do. It is built on your inherent gifts, though we often pick up some learned abilities along the way. It is imperative that we as candidates have a strong sense of our vocation. Otherwise, everything or nothing will look like a great fit.

We live out our vocation in a particular context. That includes the church itself, the larger community/country, and the denomination. We must be paid fairly and provided adequate benefits to engage with the people in our congregation and beyond in healthy ways.

In a great-fit call, all four aspects of vocation and circumstance – a position that utilizes our passions and strengths and a setting we have the desire and means to connect with – must be present. If one is missing, we’ll be working hard emotionally, spiritually, and mentally to avoid frustration and resentment. When all four parts work in harmony, we will flourish, even if we sometimes have to remind ourselves to take time for self-care.

As you look at the diagram , what resonates with you? What questions does it raise? Where might you push back?

Recently I added my take on being half of a clergy couple to the online series #Yoked. (Thank you to Mihee Kim-Kort for the chance to write!) While my main intention was to provide a peek inside one dual ministry marriage, I also hoped to articulate some on-the-job gleanings that have shaped my vocational life:

It can take a while to settle into a ministry groove. This is partly true in my case because I had to learn how to apply seminary knowledge in the Real World. More than that, though, it took time to grow into the clothes of a pastor.

Calls to ministry evolve over time. When I started looking for my first ministry position, I had a clear idea of what my professional trajectory would be. God laughed, then shredded my map. Thank goodness, because this winding journey has been much more fulfilling.

One bad experience doesn’t have to be the end of the vocational line. I still feel the sting when I think about my stint in a toxic setting. But the pain crystallized my purpose and fired me up for what I do now.

Pre-fab positions aren’t the only ministry outlets. I finally figured out I could be creative within my constraints. At times I have pieced together different ministry jobs to equal full-time work. At others I have accepted positions that were likely created with someone else in mind. (Most interim minister job descriptions are not written to draw young, female candidates!) And now I have started my own sideline, which may someday be my main ministry.

Ministry can’t be done well – at least for long – in isolation. I have my wonderful husband, who understands the joys and challenges of being a pastor. But I also have a network of local partners in ministry and an international community of young clergy women who teach and support me on a daily basis.

I hope my still-unfolding story is an encouragement to you, especially if you are a current or future minister wondering if this crazy, beautiful vocational life is for you. The church needs you!

As a brainy, uncoordinated child I had little use for sports. In the sixth grade, though, my best friend introduced me to basketball, and it was love at first bounce. I played a year of rec ball, during which I had to shoot my free throws granny-style because my spindly arms weren’t used to such physical exertion. I played two years on my school team, improving my shooting and becoming a tenacious defender. I was an anxious ball-handler, though, and ball management is a big part of the job description when you’re 4’10.” I decided I was a better student of the game than player, and I spent my high school years keeping statistics for the team and filing the occasional scouting report about an upcoming opponent. I loved every moment in that role, and I set my sights on becoming a basketball coach. I read basketball theory and biographies of great coaches and used all of my tv time during the season to break down games. When I graduated from high school, my coach gave me the whiteboard he used to diagram plays for the team and his well wishes for my coaching journey.

Needless to say, this coaching journey took a turn. God got tired of whispering in my ear about a call to ministry and started yelling and banging pots and pans. I stored the whiteboard in the attic and turned my attention to scripture, history, polity, classical languages, and psychology. I went to seminary. I began ministering in congregations, hospitals, and domestic violence shelters. I was never sorry that Pat Summitt didn’t have to watch over her shoulder for me. But in 2010 I was introduced to the concept of ministry coaching and contracted with a seasoned minister who asked questions that brought out the best in me. I was soon more effective, more joyful, more confident as a minister. And when I was offered the opportunity to become a coach myself, I jumped at it.

Ministry coaching isn’t quite like basketball coaching. I do much more listening and asking than yelling and telling. But I love every moment in this role too, and it is a privilege to walk alongside coachees as they build on their fundamentals and discover their own tenacity.