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There is no such road classification in Canada, yet during our time in Southern Alberta, I realised what life on the B roads is all about. In this blog post, I want to share my introduction to such a life in ministry. It’s not pretty. I don’t want to airbrush any of it away, for my sinfulness and wrongful attachments only make the love, grace and patience of God all the more beautiful.
We were called to Canada not to any church leadership position but to a time of healing and formation (or perhaps re-formation). We became involved in an Anglican church planting organisation called Via Apostolica (The Apostolic Way). I spent my first year in Lethbridge as an unpaid intern. Here all my unhealed buttons got pressed. Who knew there were so many? Here is just a light smattering:
Firstly, I didn’t recognise my vice-like grip on the need for status and success. That internship laid it all bare. I had gone from preaching in church every week and sharing at New Wine Summer conferences to not preaching at all. Who was I if I wasn’t leading from the front? I craved time in the spotlight. Yet it felt like Harry Potter had given me a loan of his cloak of invisibility, only I didn’t know that I was wearing it!
Button number two: age. An internal narrative I had grown accustomed to during ministry in Scotland was that I was a young, emerging leader. But then there comes that moment (when you’re in your mid 30’s) that you’re, well, not young anymore. In Via Lethbridge, there was a whole raft of talented leaders on the staff team, many of which were younger than me and far more proficient in their leadership and communication than I was. Who was I now if I wasn’t the young, up-and-coming leader?
Finally, the matter of moolah. Money. There is something deep in my West of Scotland psyche that states that a man is what he earns. It mattered to me in my masculinity to care and provide for Charlotte, my wife. I know that’s an old-fashioned idea, and as a GP, Charlotte earned more than me. Still, when Charlotte’s parents gave their blessing for me to marry their daughter, I shared that I would always seek to look after her. Here, in this strange new land, Charlotte for a time was the sole breadwinner. Jesus teaches that you cannot serve two masters. It’s either money or God. Would I continue on the journey of trust that began in Nelson Cathedral, New Zealand? I would, but it wouldn’t be an easy journey. The well-worn subtle script of being a human doing, instead of a human being, called to consider the lilies, was embedded deep within me.
Rather appropriately, things reached a crescendo at a healing conference, “Living Free.” This event was a crucial ingredient in Via Apostolica’s year. The church plants came together in Lethbridge for worship, teaching and ministry. During this event, a leader in one church plant asked for help interpreting a dream that she felt was significant. She learned that I had a background in Christian dream interpretation and sought me out. I spent two hours with her on a Saturday afternoon, offering some interpretive pointers about what the dream might mean. Unbeknown to me, she was to share the dream later that same evening at the healing conference. My wee heart fluttered with excitement as this leader stepped on stage. Maybe here I might be recognised? No. Not a peep. This godly woman shared the dream and, keeping the focus on Jesus, said, “this is what the Lord has been showing me through this. Here’s what I think the dream might mean.”
Fit to be tied, I walked to my car after that meeting, and the dam broke.
“The Lord has been showing you? The Lord?… The Lord?… (every question became higher in pitch and incredulity.) And what the dickens was I doing for two hours on my Saturday afternoon?” Servant, humble, secure leadership? Nope. Not a trace in that moment. I turned to prayer for help and answers.
“Lord, are you kidding me? What is going on here? I feel invisible!”
Then came the thought immediately, “Welcome to life on the B-roads, son. This is that.” As I sat in the darkness of that cold car, clutching the steering wheel and holding back the tears, my mind went back to that meeting over a few drams with a best friend and the toast to the b-roads. Clink. Cheers. “This is that.” This unpaid internship in a season of hiddenness is what it means for that prayer to be answered. Right.
Providentially, during that healing conference, Bishop Trevor Walters was teaching on External Affirmation Syndrome. Trevor has a graced healing ministry, and I highly recommend his book. (EAS Syndrome: Healing Burnout in Adults Lacking Parental Affirmation. Trevor Walters & Jim Stanley, M.D Anglican House, Newport Beach, California 2016). External Affirmation Syndrome is inextricably bound up with burnout in Christian ministry because, rather than abiding in the unconditional love of God, we turn to the sentiments of others to gauge how we are in life. We let the themes of success, or lack thereof, dictate our inner sense of self. At the heart of his work, Trevor has a helpful analogy describing the “cup of affirmation.” We bring this cup out to others hoping they will fill it with love and encouragement. However, there is always a lack. There is a sense that the goalposts keep shifting because this is conditional-based affirmation. Will you be able to keep up that good work? What if the next ministry moment isn’t as good? Who are you, then? The well-meaning encouragement of others never fills us fully. It is not wise to put yourself at the mercy of other people’s praise. Jesus certainly didn’t (John 2:23-25). In the language of the 23rd Psalm, our cup overflows at the table of the Lord. Our cup is made for the unconditional and eternal love of our Heavenly Father. Here, in drinking draft upon draft, we learn who we are and what He is inviting us to be.
In the weeks following “Living Free”, I found a new prayer and longing rising within me. “If this is a season of learning about the B roads, Father, please take me to some of the most beautiful and off-the-beaten-track places in Southern Alberta. I would like to learn to pray; please bring me out to the mountains.”
I asked Amy, one of the pastors in Via Lethbridge, if she knew of any Christian retreat centres nearby. She kindly furnished me with a list. One name, in particular, leapt off the page. Gladstone Mountain Ranch. I loved the very sound of the place. A ranch in the mountains, where even the stones are glad? Before I knew what I was doing, I was phoning the number that Amy had attached. I left a bumbling message about being a Scottish minister now in Lethbridge, and I was looking for a place where I could come out to pray and study and would be happy to help on the ranch if needed. Later that day Aaron, the ranch owner, left me a voicemail. We were playing phone tag.
“Hamish, Angus, Douglas, Stewart, Robbie, sorry I didn’t catch your name in your message, but I hear you are from Scotland! Please come to the ranch. We’d love to have you here. Don’t worry about working. Just come to pray and pray for this place while you are here.” And that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Gladstone is one of my favourite places in all the world. You are brought before a theatre of mountains who, in their silence, preach the most spectacular sermons as the light and the elements interact with them as they, all the while, tell you of God’s righteousness (Psalm 36.6). As you enter the ranch, there is a sign over the driveway that says with humble confidence, “Where things happen.” And it is true. It’s prophetic. The Hemphill family, the ranch owners, see the place as a gift and regularly offer the land back to the Lord. There is an unhurried ease about the place, with no complex ministry strategy, just space for God to meet you in a mountainous setting of astounding beauty.
I didn’t realise it at the time, but the ways God met me in those mountains have significantly shaped our approach here at Greenwood Retreat on the Ardnamurchan Peninsula. The uncluttered schedule was still structured. It was shaped by seeking and finding God’s grace to enable me to pray and study. The gift of space and time let God be God in all his brilliant glory. (You have said, “Seek my face.”My heart says to you,“Your face, Lord, do I seek.” Psalm 27.8) When the knowledge of his glory dawns upon you, you see all your other worthless idols for what they are. Totally worthless and, well, downright silly in comparison to Him. Those things that promise much yet, with their cruel terms and conditions, fail to deliver on bringing lasting joy. Instead, God, the lover of my soul, drew me out to the remote and wild surroundings of Gladstone Mountain Ranch to speak so tenderly to me.
I bless the Lord that through the ministry of CLAN Gathering, together with the writings of Brennan Manning, I was introduced to the Father’s love. It’s a theme that beats at the heart of the Gospel and can be known experientially through Jesus. During my time in Southern Alberta, I learned to live in that foundational identity. It becomes the ground of being in a believer, shaping the landscape of the soul. Please understand this transformation is gradual, the mind has to be constantly renewed to this heavenly reality. Vigilance is required; who am I asking to fill my cup of affirmation and why?
In closing, let me share how such a changed outlook on life relates to those three buttons that were pressed in my first year in Lethbridge. “Success,” if you still feel the need to have criteria to measure the effectiveness of ministry, simply looks like bearing witness to Jesus and learning to watch him at work. It is vital to learn that his ministry continues on the earth today. Through the person of the Holy Spirit Jesus’ prophetic, priestly and kingly presence is at hand and is with us. On that note, if you find that you are a curious agnostic reading this blog may I make a humble suggestion? Sit down and read one of the four gospels. If you have the time, do it in one sitting. Don’t just read for information. Approach the gospel with a prayer: Jesus please show me who you are and who I am to you. (Feel free to get in touch through this blog’s email address if you have any questions or want to share your experience of meeting Jesus in the Gospel).
As to age, well, I’ve come to see that that’s all relative. The longer you look at God the younger you become. Even though my ageing physical body creaks in new ways, and there’s an increasing number of grey/white hairs in my beard who are defiant in their stubbornness to be clipped with my shaver (how is that even possible?) there is this wonderful child-like simplicity and trust that arises in the soul when waiting before the Lord. The sin of comparison sucks the life and joy right out of you. When you come to abide in the unconditional love of God you learn that you have nothing to prove to yourself, your peers, or to God himself.
Finally, as to the matter of the folding readies, I have learned that it is impossible to out give God. He is so incredibly generous. Mammon doesn’t get a look in by comparison. Discipleship in Christ is about learning to receive all God’s bountiful goodness and mercy. One day, as I was meditating on Psalm 121, I sensed Jesus say “Follow me. Look to our Father. Learn to be a kept man.” Here’s to being kept by the Keeper of your soul! Here’s to life on the b roads! O’ beloved, behold your beloved, leaping like a young stag on the mountains. He is coming for you, to woo you in his great love. Lift up your heart to him and receive him in grace that is lavished upon you.
