Well, It's a Deep Subject
Published by Korey Buchanek under on 1:24 PM
October 21,2010
It’s quite. My wife and children have all gone to bed and I find myself in a place, that I hate to admit, is all too familiar. I promised myself that my blog would be a place of honesty, a place where I would express the hardest parts of my journey. So instead of having another private entry into my journal tonight I thought I would write about the messy reality of a pastor’s heart on this road less traveled.
See for those of you that might be stopping by for the first time you might find this a bit unnerving. It’s OK if you feel that way because it makes me, the writer, a bit uncomfortable. See, I’m in a season that pastors never like to talk about. It’s like I pledged some secret fraternity that has an unspoken rule. It is a rule that discourages honesty about our passion for God’s Word. Well, maybe that is a bit misleading. It is less about my passion for the Word, but more about my lack thereof. You see my heart at times experiences a seasonal change like the Fall leaves as months that pass by in the mountains of Colorado. This season in my journey is not one that you want to meander through and take snapshots to hang on the wall. This season comes with a hundred excuses, excuses justifying my lack of desire for God’s Love Letter to me. Excuses that fumble off the tongue like a young school child when asked to turn in the homework that they forgot to complete. There continues to be this nagging tug at my heart like my son’s holding onto my pant leg in a busy supermarket. A tug that says slow down and be with the Father. However, my routine is less disturbing than my heart’s desire. The essence of what I’m saying is my soul is dry and the bucket that one lowers into the well keeps hitting the bottom producing a resounding sharp echo… “Clank”.
Now ask yourself, what could be more useless than a dry well? It’s not like you can simply turn a well without water into something useful. I don’t see this being a HGTV special where they come in and do a makeover on some fancy Victorian home. We’re talking about a deep hole in the ground that is nothing more than empty. Empty and missing the very thing that gives it purpose, water. So why would I tell you, my reader, this? Well, I’m guessing that there are people out there that have felt this very same thing before and have thought to themselves, “There must be something wrong with me.” Or, “Maybe God doesn’t love me as much as He used to.” It’s not like I’m trying to avoid His Word. I’m not looking to run from Him or trying to conceal some secret sin issue that I’m unwilling to address. Right now I’m in a season that His Word doesn’t seem to be alive and active. There’s a silence in the air.
Now I’m not so naïve as to assume that the Word is not alive and active in spite of my inability to see it right now. God is on the move regardless of my spiritual or emotional inability to recognize His voice on the pages of His Word. I’m speaking more about the lack of passion to be in the Word. I personally believe that every believer goes through these seasons whether we talk about it or not. This post isn’t to justify this place or even make sense of how I got here. I’m writing to acknowledge this season and that this heart still has a propensity to wonder into places that have walls. Walls that seem to trap the way I think and walls that seem unforgiving as they move in to create this smallness to His presence. These walls create a place where the rope leading out seems to be just out of grasp. There is light in the distance as I look up from the bottom, but it’s damp in the darkness.
There is hope that water will once again touch these walls and consume the presence of this place. There is understanding that this bucket that seems empty will once again rise up with a purpose. There is knowledge that it will rain again and this season will change like the spring taking from the presence of winter. For now however, I will continue to reach for a rope that today seems out of my grasp. I know the days ahead will produce something different. How do I know? I’ve been here before. See I don’t think this is strange or contrary to the life of a believer. I know the ebb and flow of our journey. The question is not, "Why am I here?” The question is, "How long am I willing to wait upon His Word to drink the water again?" It brings to mind an old song that my dad used to sing when I was a kid. “Spring up ol’ well within my soul. Spring up ol’ well and make me whole.” Maybe that song writer understood me…
It’s quite. My wife and children have all gone to bed and I find myself in a place, that I hate to admit, is all too familiar. I promised myself that my blog would be a place of honesty, a place where I would express the hardest parts of my journey. So instead of having another private entry into my journal tonight I thought I would write about the messy reality of a pastor’s heart on this road less traveled.
See for those of you that might be stopping by for the first time you might find this a bit unnerving. It’s OK if you feel that way because it makes me, the writer, a bit uncomfortable. See, I’m in a season that pastors never like to talk about. It’s like I pledged some secret fraternity that has an unspoken rule. It is a rule that discourages honesty about our passion for God’s Word. Well, maybe that is a bit misleading. It is less about my passion for the Word, but more about my lack thereof. You see my heart at times experiences a seasonal change like the Fall leaves as months that pass by in the mountains of Colorado. This season in my journey is not one that you want to meander through and take snapshots to hang on the wall. This season comes with a hundred excuses, excuses justifying my lack of desire for God’s Love Letter to me. Excuses that fumble off the tongue like a young school child when asked to turn in the homework that they forgot to complete. There continues to be this nagging tug at my heart like my son’s holding onto my pant leg in a busy supermarket. A tug that says slow down and be with the Father. However, my routine is less disturbing than my heart’s desire. The essence of what I’m saying is my soul is dry and the bucket that one lowers into the well keeps hitting the bottom producing a resounding sharp echo… “Clank”.
Now ask yourself, what could be more useless than a dry well? It’s not like you can simply turn a well without water into something useful. I don’t see this being a HGTV special where they come in and do a makeover on some fancy Victorian home. We’re talking about a deep hole in the ground that is nothing more than empty. Empty and missing the very thing that gives it purpose, water. So why would I tell you, my reader, this? Well, I’m guessing that there are people out there that have felt this very same thing before and have thought to themselves, “There must be something wrong with me.” Or, “Maybe God doesn’t love me as much as He used to.” It’s not like I’m trying to avoid His Word. I’m not looking to run from Him or trying to conceal some secret sin issue that I’m unwilling to address. Right now I’m in a season that His Word doesn’t seem to be alive and active. There’s a silence in the air.
Now I’m not so naïve as to assume that the Word is not alive and active in spite of my inability to see it right now. God is on the move regardless of my spiritual or emotional inability to recognize His voice on the pages of His Word. I’m speaking more about the lack of passion to be in the Word. I personally believe that every believer goes through these seasons whether we talk about it or not. This post isn’t to justify this place or even make sense of how I got here. I’m writing to acknowledge this season and that this heart still has a propensity to wonder into places that have walls. Walls that seem to trap the way I think and walls that seem unforgiving as they move in to create this smallness to His presence. These walls create a place where the rope leading out seems to be just out of grasp. There is light in the distance as I look up from the bottom, but it’s damp in the darkness.
There is hope that water will once again touch these walls and consume the presence of this place. There is understanding that this bucket that seems empty will once again rise up with a purpose. There is knowledge that it will rain again and this season will change like the spring taking from the presence of winter. For now however, I will continue to reach for a rope that today seems out of my grasp. I know the days ahead will produce something different. How do I know? I’ve been here before. See I don’t think this is strange or contrary to the life of a believer. I know the ebb and flow of our journey. The question is not, "Why am I here?” The question is, "How long am I willing to wait upon His Word to drink the water again?" It brings to mind an old song that my dad used to sing when I was a kid. “Spring up ol’ well within my soul. Spring up ol’ well and make me whole.” Maybe that song writer understood me…
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