What Do You Do?

I used to dread the question, What do you do?

When I was serving as a pastor, my answer could illicit some very interesting (and some wildly inappropriate) responses, like “Shit, I just cussed in front of you. Oh, and there I go again,” or “I’ve never seen a pastor like you” (sometimes with an obnoxious wink, wink). But generally folks had some idea about what a pastor does, based on their own experience.

When I started offering spiritual direction, and named that as my vocation, more often than not, I just got a sort of glazed-over look. Occasionally, a curious and intrepid soul might follow with, “I’ve never heard of that. Tell me more.” But more often than not, they would change the subject, or head for the cheese table or another glass of wine.

Over time, I’ve really enjoyed getting to share more about what I do. Because in a way, I believe it is a relationship we hunger for, whether we know it or not, and whether we seek it out explicitly or tend the longing in other ways.

So whether you’ve known me all my life or are new to Deep Waters, I want to share with you why I love offering spiritual direction, whether it’s through regular one-on-one conversations, small groups, or retreats and workshops.

Like I said, I began my ministry as an associate pastor in a beloved congregation here in Atlanta. Out of all the different roles I filled, I always relished the honest, searching conversations I was privileged to have, where people felt safe enough to bare their souls, to speak of the fears that kept them up at night, the moments they experienced a mysterious grace, the struggles to feel God’s love or live their truth, the longings of their heart, and more. But amidst all the many other roles and responsibilities of a pastor, that care of souls could often get lost in the organizational mix of congregational life.

So in 2007, I left the comforts and confines of the church I had known and loved to embark on the new spiritual adventure of offering spiritual direction. I had been in a sacred relationship with a spiritual director of my own for six years, and had started regularly going on silent, directed retreats at Green Bough House of Prayer. After all my religious upbringing and theological education, including hearing some of the best preachers and spiritual teachers of the day, I can honestly say it was these two modes of spiritual direction that most transformed my relationship with God, and my sense of my own soul, purpose and vocation. Basically, I woke up to a Love I had never known, and it changed everything. Spiritual direction also helped me discern that another life was possible, one that was less frenetic and more meaningful, one that honored the shape of my own soul.

Naturally, I wanted that same grace for everyone. It felt like a deepening of my pastoral vocation to focus more intentionally on the care of individual souls. So I hung a shingle and invited people to come experience this sacred companionship.

To be continued . . . .