“Resolved, to think much on all occasions of my own dying, and of the common circumstances which attend death.” – Edwards

It doesn’t take anyone long to notice I live a life of routine. The less charitable might call me predictable, while the more understanding call me disciplined. I’m sure the reality is somewhere in between.

For the majority of my pastoral ministry I’ve been in a more traditional church setting, replete with church buildings and offices. Those structures are great friends for habit and routine. It was easy to do the same thing, at the same time, in the same place. Those were the good ol’ days.

MOVING IS MY ENEMY

Since we started Imago Dei Church at the beginning of last year my grip on routine was dealt a mighty blow, as we have neither a church building nor office. For much of the last two years my daily routine was everything but routine. Where I was on a given day depending on any number of factors. Sometimes I would move to three or four locations in a given day based on what work I had on my plate. I imagine that those of you who love changes in scenery would think that workflow would be fun, but to me that constant movement is an elusive shadow that haunts my soul. Yes, it is that grave.

So it was to my profound joy and comfort that my parents purchased a townhome – now popularly known in our family as “The Townhouse” – in McKinney earlier this year (they live in Bryan, TX) and asked if I’d like to use it as an office when they weren’t around (which on average is about three weeks a month). “Let me think about it . . . uh, YES!”

Routine returned and productivity flourished.

A CHANGE OF SCENERY

The still silence of The Townhouse has allowed my mind to focus, but I’ve realized in recent weeks how my soul is feeling less energized. Maybe it’s because I’m not around a consistent conversational banter during the day or because the lonesome structure can easily amplify Lone Ranger feelings in ministry. Whatever the reason, I thought to myself this week, “I need to find another place where I can consistently go; a place that will fuel the soul.”

After thinking for a few minutes of options nearby the proverbial “Ding! Ding! Ding!” went off in my mind.

I needed to go to the cemetery.

TRUST AMIDST TOMBSTONES

Two things in this created world seem to have unique power to stir my soul: mountains and cemeteries. We don’t have any mountains in McKinney, but we do have cemeteries.

Walking amongst the tombstones always does something powerful. I am reminded of: my mortality, God’s gracious provision of life, the fleeting nature of time, the impact of faithful generations, and how much I long to do something with this vaporous moments that remain.

Pastoral ministry is a ministry of life and death. Our gilded age celebrates the life-giving nature of faithful ministry, but what of the death-demanding side of things? We must give ourselves over to death so our people might live. We must die to the flesh, the world, and the devil. We must prepare our people to die trusting in the kind arms of the Father.

Sitting under a tree at the cemetery reminds me of all these things. It helps me pray with perspective. It helps me read and write with purpose.

In short, it feeds my soul.

WHAT’S YOUR PLACE?

While not every pastor has my possibly morbid attachment to cemeteries, I’m sure every one of us has a particular place or setting that stirs the soul. What’s yours?

Know it, find it, and then use it to propel you to greater faithfulness in the ministry to which He’s called you.