Raise your staff and stretch out your hand over
the sea to divide the water so that the Israelites can go
through the sea on dry ground.
Exodus 14.16
Several weeks ago we were with Zion Mennonite Church of Donnellson, IA. Now, I have many excuses for why this post is about three weeks late, and I can assure you that all of my excuses are very good ones. I’ll save those for another day and begin with a “Seeds” group observation: the Mississippi River is about twenty miles from Donnellson, and the Mississippi is a large river. (Editors note: This is actually a picture of the Cedar River. The Mississippi is about 1,000 times bigger)
Why make this seemingly obvious statement? Throughout this summer we have heard time after time again how hard it is to recruit pastors to move west of the Mississippi. We’ve heard this from Conference Pastors, laypeople, and congregational pastors-this struggle may be the one thing that the people of the Central Plains Conference speak about with a unified voice.
I think the “Seeds” group gravitated towards psychological explanations as we tried to understand why this was so. Churches in Nebraska, Iowa, South Dakota, Montana, Minnesota…they’re just too geographically isolated. Or they’re too small and can’t afford a full-time salaried pastor. Or they’re too far away from educational and professional opportunities. Or it’s too depressing watching small towns die. Or God doesn’t call pastors to the Midwest. I don’t know. Name the reason-no matter how outrageous-and we probably discussed how it affects someone’s willingness to move west.
But after observing the Mississippi River: it’s might, it’s strength, it’s girth, I now finally understand why the Central Plains Conference has such a hard time getting pastors to move west of the Mississippi…it’s a really big river. And as the Seeds of the Kingdom stood on the banks of the mighty Mississippi and contemplated the sheer volume of water held within the banks, the scales fell from our eyes we suddenly could see.
“How are you supposed to cross this durn thing?”
It would be a bad idea to try and swim across it, let alone have your entire family swim across. Too risky. Walking on the water is out, for the obvious reason (can’t do it!)-and anyways, think of the disturbing messianic parallels. You could try lifting your staff and stretching out your hand over the river and parting it, although this hasn’t been pulled off successfully since Moses in Exodus 14. Besides, who carries a staff anymore?
Once you’ve tried all these options, you’d be left with one and only one other option. Which is, of course, covered wagon. Which is, of course, notoriously unreliable as far as fording the Mississippi goes. Your oxen won’t like the water, it’ll probably be too deep, and the water will rush so fast that you’ll capsize. I think most everyone will admit, however reluctantly, that a capsized covered wagon is not the optimal way to begin a pastorate.
Once we saw the river, we understood. We understood why it’s hard to move the family west of the Mississippi. It’s big, scary, and it’s so hard to find a good staff these days.
the sea to divide the water so that the Israelites can go
through the sea on dry ground.
Exodus 14.16
Several weeks ago we were with Zion Mennonite Church of Donnellson, IA. Now, I have many excuses for why this post is about three weeks late, and I can assure you that all of my excuses are very good ones. I’ll save those for another day and begin with a “Seeds” group observation: the Mississippi River is about twenty miles from Donnellson, and the Mississippi is a large river. (Editors note: This is actually a picture of the Cedar River. The Mississippi is about 1,000 times bigger)
Why make this seemingly obvious statement? Throughout this summer we have heard time after time again how hard it is to recruit pastors to move west of the Mississippi. We’ve heard this from Conference Pastors, laypeople, and congregational pastors-this struggle may be the one thing that the people of the Central Plains Conference speak about with a unified voice.
I think the “Seeds” group gravitated towards psychological explanations as we tried to understand why this was so. Churches in Nebraska, Iowa, South Dakota, Montana, Minnesota…they’re just too geographically isolated. Or they’re too small and can’t afford a full-time salaried pastor. Or they’re too far away from educational and professional opportunities. Or it’s too depressing watching small towns die. Or God doesn’t call pastors to the Midwest. I don’t know. Name the reason-no matter how outrageous-and we probably discussed how it affects someone’s willingness to move west.
But after observing the Mississippi River: it’s might, it’s strength, it’s girth, I now finally understand why the Central Plains Conference has such a hard time getting pastors to move west of the Mississippi…it’s a really big river. And as the Seeds of the Kingdom stood on the banks of the mighty Mississippi and contemplated the sheer volume of water held within the banks, the scales fell from our eyes we suddenly could see.
“How are you supposed to cross this durn thing?”
It would be a bad idea to try and swim across it, let alone have your entire family swim across. Too risky. Walking on the water is out, for the obvious reason (can’t do it!)-and anyways, think of the disturbing messianic parallels. You could try lifting your staff and stretching out your hand over the river and parting it, although this hasn’t been pulled off successfully since Moses in Exodus 14. Besides, who carries a staff anymore?
Once you’ve tried all these options, you’d be left with one and only one other option. Which is, of course, covered wagon. Which is, of course, notoriously unreliable as far as fording the Mississippi goes. Your oxen won’t like the water, it’ll probably be too deep, and the water will rush so fast that you’ll capsize. I think most everyone will admit, however reluctantly, that a capsized covered wagon is not the optimal way to begin a pastorate.
Once we saw the river, we understood. We understood why it’s hard to move the family west of the Mississippi. It’s big, scary, and it’s so hard to find a good staff these days.
Matt Troyer-Miller
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