It is often in structured and spontaneous pausing in the shade that we who minister are ministered to. This is a practice – one which still feels difficult. Learning to relax into the shade, and not sit there with your mind fixated on the next shot, the next thing you have to do, is a practice of relaxing into the shade and shelter of God. It’s not easy, but for you, your family, those you lead with, and those you shepherd – it’s worth it.
I still remember the feeling of confusion as we zig-zagged across the golf course near our home in Florida. To me, the pattern made no sense at all. We’d go to what seemed like a random place on each hole, irrespective to the location of our golf balls, and my father and I would sit and wait for his friends to hit.
We’d just…wait. In what seemed to be a random spot, often far away from where our next shot was. Sometimes in these moments, he would comment on the sky, or the landscaping, or something else in life. Then, after a while, he’d take us over to where I thought we should have been the whole time – our next shot.
I had to ask why we were doing this. Even as a kid, I had a very process-driven mind – hit ball, find ball, hit ball again, repeat until finished. Boom. Golf. This random pattern of pausing and indiscriminate waiting made little sense to me. I had to know.
He looked at me and said these words that I’ve never forgotten – “Rudy, I’m always trying to keep us in the shade.”
As a kid, it didn’t make sense. Who cared about the shade? Let’s get to the next shot! I actually think I saw many things that way – in fact, until a few years ago, I think it’s how I saw ministry. Process-driven – just “get to the next shot.” The next event. The next meeting, The next _______. I’d forgotten the lesson my father taught me on that course – to always seek out the shade. To find moments to break, to rest, to slow, to stop, to pause, to recover, to wait. The shade as a place to just be with Jesus, in the middle of responsibilities that are as constant as the Florida sun.
Perhaps I didn’t forget my father’s lesson – maybe I just never learned it. Much to my own detriment, I didn’t practice seeking out the shade until several years ago when I’d worn myself out to the point of despair. As has been said before, the pain of staying the same had outweighed the pain of change – which turned out to exist only in my mind.