One of my favorite movies is the 2001 classic, “Cast Away,” starring Tom Hanks. Who wouldn’t love a movie where the best friend (or pastoral coach) is a volleyball named Wilson, right?  

Hanks plays Chuck Noland, a high-energy, driven, FedEx systems engineer who loves traveling the FedEx world and fixing it – it’s not just his job; it’s his vocation. He loves what he does every day and looks forward to a lifetime of doing just this with his life.  

Until the day when on just such a mission for FedEx, Chuck’s plane crashes and he is stranded on a tiny island somewhere in the Pacific. With no rescue in sight and no means of escape to be found, this expert in advanced technical systems spends the next four years in primitive isolation, his days focused on the singular task of survival. His entire life appears to be buried with his plane at the bottom of the ocean: his career, his recent engagement to marry, and his dreams. Everything. In the act of fulfilling his vocation he has been cast away. Even more, he is  a castaway.  On a tiny dot in the middle of millions of miles of sea. 

To his credit, Chuck doesn’t abandon all hope.  Four years after being cast away, Chuck is presented with a creative way out of his captivity. Through careful planning and preparation (and with the help of Wilson), Chuck escapes the island and its imprisoning tides.  Weeks later he is rescued by a freighter and returned to his life and position with FedEx.  

However, even though Chuck is no longer on the island, he finds he is still a castaway: now found and returned to his former life, he is as lost as ever. The FedEx world has become foreign to him. America has changed. He and his friends have a four-year gap in their relationships and shared experiences – some of them are even gone. Worst of all, the future he had planned with the love of his life has been taken from him: thinking Chuck to be dead, she has married and has a family; she’s made a new life, one that does not include hm. 

Chuck is no longer on the island, but he remains very much a cast away. His former world and life are gone and he cannot find his way.  Though he’s back on land, the earth has been pulled out from under his feet. His experience on the island has forever undone him. 

ANOTHER KIND OF CAST AWAY

There are many ministers who identify all too well with Chuck.  

No, they’ve not taken the hit of a plane crash or been stranded on a physical island, but all the same, they’ve been hit by the vocation they love most and by the mission they live for. They’ve crashed. They’ve felt stranded, alone, and isolated with no prospects for rescue. And then, when they were finally able to escape their imprisoning tides and change their locales – when they’ve left their islands of despair for new horizons of promise – they’ve found themselves just as lost, simply in different surroundings.    

Pastors. Castaways. The question is a painful one: is it a condition that will last for a lifetime?

SEARCH AND RESCUE

Coaching young ministers I often remind them that there are three kinds of “gray hair” ministers and that they are choosing today which one they will become: 

. . . The Hard and Bitter;

. . . The Cruisers;

. . . The Sweet and Deep.

All have had similar experiences in ministry:  lofty dreams, deep loves, faithful friends, high flights, hard crashes, aching isolation, daring escapes, timely rescues, and painful realizations. 

There have been people who have loved us deeply and those who have “not loved us” (some just as deeply).  There have been seasons of refreshing and there have been wilderness journeys. There have been ringing applause and crashing criticisms, pats on the back and backhands.  There have been adventures with God that went beyond our wildest dreams and there have been numbing, day-in, day-out treks of one-foot-in-front-of-the-other trudging.  There have been dreams that came true and dreams we have long forgotten. 

Some come through this labyrinth of ministry experiences hard and bitter.  

When the hard hits began, they hit back. And when the praise was piled on them, they let it in.  Pride took root and ministry experiences only served to harden and embitter their hearts to God and to people – even as they served in vocational ministry. You’ve probably met gray hair ministers just like these, men and women whose lives and ministries are marked by anger and complaints, faultfinding and resentment.  They’ve become hard and bitter in their souls.  The ministry didn’t make them this way: this is simply how they chose to process the experiences common to all of us in ministry.  

Some come through this labyrinth of ministry experiences by cruising.  

When the hard hits began, they pulled back. And back. And back again. When the praise was piled on, they weren’t sure what to do with it – after all, they had been hit so hard so often.  Hurt and fear took root and ministry experiences only served to shut off their hearts and emotions from God and from people – even as they served in vocational ministry. You’ve probably met gray hair ministers just like these, men and women whose lives and ministries are marked by passivity and compliance, avoiding all conflict and just going through the motions in order to survive. They’ve been worn out and beaten down in their souls. The ministry didn’t make them this way: this is simply how they chose to process the experiences common to all of us in ministry. God’s heart goes out to them. 

Some come through this labyrinth of ministry experiences ever deeper and sweeter. 

When the hard hits began, they took them to Jesus. They received His grace. They responded to others with His grace.  When the praise was piled on, they gave it to Jesus. Humility and confidence took root and ministry experiences only served to make them love God and people more – even as they served in vocational ministry. You’ve probably met gray hair ministers just like these, men and women whose lives and ministries are marked by peace and real joy, wisdom and compassion.  They’ve been deepened and sweetened in their souls. The ministry didn’t make them this way: this is simply how they chose to process the experiences common to all of us in ministry. 

I don’t share this information with young ministers as an indictment of gray hairs, but as a lesson for their own consideration:  each of us is determining today in our younger years who we will be in our gray hair years – not what we do, but who we are.  Who we really are. 

WHEN IT ALL BEGAN – DO YOU REMEMBER? 

When we enter vocational ministry, we do so with the wind at our backs and full sail, ready to race the course for Jesus with all that we have. Nothing can stop us in our passion to fulfill our creation and call, our mission to make disciples of all nations, beginning right here in our first place of ministry. In Jesus’ name, we will carry this Gospel to every people, nation, tribe, and language!  

Do you remember those mountaintop days? Can you feel that first-fire in your soul again?  Can you still see with dazzling clarity God’s vision for your life? Can you hear again your heart cries, the prayers of the whole-hearted devotion you lifted to God in your desire to serve Him, whatever the cost might be? 

And then ministry in the real world happened. What we expected and what we didn’t anticipate.  What we thought would happen and what we never imagined could happen. The things we “knew” but found out we didn’t “understand” (because only experience can teach us some lessons). The hits and hurts, the trials and tests, the faults and failures, . . . 

The “stuff” of vocational ministry.  

We found out that ministry is not what we thought it would be when we began all those years ago.  Or even all those months ago.  

And so today we find ourselves with a decision:  with the grace of God at work in us, which of the three will we choose to be?   

. . . The Hard and Bitter;

. . . The Cruiser;

. . . The Sweet and Deep.  

A RETURN TO THE ISLAND

Let’s pick up the story of Chuck Noland and the movie, “Cast Away.” 

Now off the island, Chuck remains a cast away. All of his hopes and dreams are dashed. His once promising plans with his company now seem pointless. His one true love has married another man. Chuck is a man cut adrift from everything he loved and lived for, a man without direction or destination. It would appear that all is lost.  All that remains is the question of what he will do it with his experience?  Will he become hard and bitter at life, seeking to stake out his claim in a survival-of-the-fittest world?  Will he shut down emotionally and cruise the rest of his days, seeking only to survive in a hostile world?  Or is there a third response possible?

All would seem lost until the final scene of the movie. Apparently having left his life in the FedEx world, Chuck (a new Wilson by his side) sets off on a cross country drive, looking for a new reason to get out of bed in the morning. In some ways, sea has given way to dirt and sand. He comes to a set of physical crossroads in the middle of nowhere in Texas. He stops his car, looks down each highway and wonders what to do. Map in hand, he stands and ponders not only what direction he will steer his car, but what destination he will seek for his life. A pickup truck pulls up; in it is a smiling young woman who offers to help Chuck with road directions. He listens attentively as she explains where each of the four roads leads. A final smile, a “good luck Cowboy,” and she heads her truck for home.  Chuck watches her drive away before walking thoughtfully out to the center of the crossroads. He again considers which direction he will take, which destination he will choose to make his own.  

Turning his head, he watches the dust that trails the disappearing truck of the young woman who had stopped to offer her assistance.  And ever so subtly, he smiles.  His decision made, he gets back into his car and follows:  direction decided; destination determined.  

He will not kick back at life and become hard and bitter.  Neither will he give up and put his life on cruise.  He chooses to go on living – he chooses to live and to make a life for himself, a life that can be ever sweeter and ever deeper. 

D-DAY OF DECISION

Young minister, you stand at the Castaway crossroad today. And every day. It’s a decision each of us have to remake each day.  

Which direction and destination will you choose? 

The choice is yours.  

___________________

NOTE: Journey Pastoral Coaching provides pastoral coaching to Millennial ministers.

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“In the early years when I was becoming a pastor, I needed a pastor.” 

 Eugene H. Peterson, The Pastor: A Memoir