Truth & Consequences :A Pastor Confronts Sexuality

This begins a new story, each installment available on Monday by 9 a.m. While the story is fiction, it paints the real challenge of being a pastor. Enjoy and share comments with me here or on Twitter.

*********************

She appeared in the doorway of my office. She was dressed in a conservative pants suit that made her look professional but did not hide the fact that she was an attractive woman. Her face seemed to alternate between a look of fear and anger, as if it couldn’t decide which should triumph.

“My name is Eleanor. We’ve been attending your church lately. I know that I don’t have an appointment, but I need to talk with you.”

Clergy are always caught in the bind of wanting to be accessible but also needing periods of uninterrupted time to accomplish a myriad of other tasks. Some use their secretary or an irritating electronic voice offering a variety of button options in order to protect their privacy. Having experienced the frustration of trying to get past such barriers myself, and perhaps not wanting the church’s message to be one of unavailability, I chose to keep my office door open to all visitors. Sometimes, when a sermon or preparation for an important meeting was near, I wondered at the wisdom of such a choice.

When I saw the look on her face, I was glad that she didn’t have to wind through a labyrinth to find a human ear. There is always a touch of panic that my skills will prove inadequate when someone comes to me in need, so I uttered a silent prayer and rose to greet her. I tried to project a warm and welcoming smile.

“Please come in. You do look like you need to talk with someone.”

She was a brunette, I would guess about 5’8’’, with dark brown eyes. I’m guessing, but I placed her at about 45 years of age, but her face reflected such strain that at another time, she might have appeared younger. She forced a smile of acceptance as she entered my somewhat cluttered office and immediately accepted my offer of a chair in the guest area of my office. I would have offered her some coffee but she didn’t give me time to speak the words.

With no preamble, she began. “Do you remember the sermon that you preached several weeks ago about telling the truth and healing your soul?”

I confess, as I’ve heard many preachers admit, that once a sermon is preached, I quickly put it out of my mind as I begin to focus on what is next. Besides, I hadn’t preached for too many years before I realized that what people hear can be at wide variance with what I thought I had said. When someone wants to comment on a past sermon, particularly one preached several weeks in the past, I often make some vague response in hopes that what they say next will jog my memory, and I won’t appear to be a complete dolt.

“Why don’t you tell me what you heard in the sermon and why it stayed with you?”

“Oh, it stayed with me, all right. I don’t think I will ever forget it. It may well have destroyed my marriage.”

Next Installment on Monday, April 15. In the meantime, consider what you would be feeling if you were the pastor in this story. Sometimes sermons are dangerous.