persian new year and being a pastor's kid
I meant to write about this sooner, but I only remembered now! A few weeks ago, we were invited to celebrate Persian New Year with a woman from our church, along with her sweet mother. We feasted, laughed and learned about their life in Iran before moving to Quebec. It was colorful and engaging and delicious - and such a joy to us.
Being a pastor's kid, I stand in awe of the many, many ways the saints at Oasis Church go out of their way to bless us. And I use the word "us" because the whole family has been a recipient of these blessings.
From the beginning of my dad's work in the pastorate, my parents were adamant that ministry in the local church would not just be "dad's thing" - it would be our thing. One might view this as pressure- but I have to say they were incredibly gracious about this, and repeatedly emphasized the privilege it is to be so involved in the church.
I am grateful my parents ingrained in me an understanding of the importance of Christ's bride, the Church. I am grateful that I was taught to value the gathering of the Body- rather than perceive it as a barrier to free time or work opportunities. I am grateful that active participation in the church was not conceptualized as an optional add-on to my personal faith journey. And I am grateful that ministry involvement in my church community was presented as a profound gift- not a burden.
Pastoring a church, from what I have seen in my father (and, by extension, my mother) is no easy thing. If anything, it has confirmed that this calling is requires the whole family to depend on God's grace every.single.day.
The burdens of the church inevitably fall on my dad's shoulders- and, indirectly, on us too. From stressful Sundays, relentless late-night phone calls, occasionally uncomfortable (and unwarranted) feedback, unrealistic expectations about our family, the constant threat of pride getting the best of us and many spiritual attacks, it has been an unending invitation to pray that God would strengthen us by His mercy.
But, even though the pastor's family is (oh-so-conveniently) located in the trenches of Kingdom work, I am humbled by this life and the providential calling of my dad and our family. I feel profoundly thankful for it, actually - even though I have been known to complain about being the last people to leave the church after Sunday services, or having to forfeit luxuries like weekend getaways!
Being the daughter of a pastor has allowed me to see God provide for the local church in miraculous ways, guide my dad as he writes a sermon, strengthen my parents' marriage through their common burden for the church, and bless my sister and I with many pseudo-aunts and uncles in our congregation. Also, when I am asked what my parents' do, I have the tremendous occasion to start gospel conversations.
More than anything, being a "PK" (preacher's kid, heyyyy!) has been an opportunity to be front-row witness to God's transformative power, at work in people's lives. No amount of discomfort fostered by unexpected elders' meetings in my living room or embarrassing sermon illustrations about me can minimize this.
And, as this Persian New Year celebration exemplified, we are cared for by the members of the Body. We are covered in prayer, recipients of radical generosity and invited into people's homes, where we are encouraged and blessed by their hospitality. Of course, these things are not reserved for the pastor's family- in fact, the whole church should seek to build one another up in these ways!
Being in a multi-cultural church, I am especially thankful that we get to experience and learn from the customs of our brothers and sisters hailing from every corner of the world. This was my first Nowruz celebration- and I was mesmerized by the vibrant Persian folk music, lavish and highly-symbolic Haft-sin table (adapted by our hosts, who are confessing Christians and not Muslim), and the unending stream of food: dolmeh barg (fig leaves), shirin (rice pilaf), reshteh polo (saffron and lamb and rice for days), mint tea and baklava (a heavenly dessert), and on and on.
The flavors were utterly new and fully other- and I felt as though I was traveling during the entire duration of the meal. Though undeniably different than my day to day landscape, the event was sweetly familiar to me- perhaps reminding me of my Middle-Eastern roots and my Lebanese Grand-Papa that I love so dearly. Surrounded by intricately detailed Persian carpets and paintings of the Qajar dynasty, I could not help but think of the beauty that is the Body of Christ- the way two women from the heart of Tehran and a family from Quebec can gather around a meal and call one another brother, sister.
We left, with bellies and hearts full. We agreed these precious times with God's faithful are reminders of the gift Église Oasis (Oasis Church) is to us.
I love the church (and the Church); how it unifies wandering souls, provides refuge and a chorus of me-toos, and draws us to God's loving truths again and again. I am the first to agree that being a PK is not always fun nor easy- but among the myriad of gifts this "role" (for lack of a better word) entails, the neighborliness and everpresent companionship of God's people is one I will remain profoundly grateful for, in years and years to come.
Being a pastor's kid, I stand in awe of the many, many ways the saints at Oasis Church go out of their way to bless us. And I use the word "us" because the whole family has been a recipient of these blessings.
From the beginning of my dad's work in the pastorate, my parents were adamant that ministry in the local church would not just be "dad's thing" - it would be our thing. One might view this as pressure- but I have to say they were incredibly gracious about this, and repeatedly emphasized the privilege it is to be so involved in the church.
I am grateful my parents ingrained in me an understanding of the importance of Christ's bride, the Church. I am grateful that I was taught to value the gathering of the Body- rather than perceive it as a barrier to free time or work opportunities. I am grateful that active participation in the church was not conceptualized as an optional add-on to my personal faith journey. And I am grateful that ministry involvement in my church community was presented as a profound gift- not a burden.
Pastoring a church, from what I have seen in my father (and, by extension, my mother) is no easy thing. If anything, it has confirmed that this calling is requires the whole family to depend on God's grace every.single.day.
The burdens of the church inevitably fall on my dad's shoulders- and, indirectly, on us too. From stressful Sundays, relentless late-night phone calls, occasionally uncomfortable (and unwarranted) feedback, unrealistic expectations about our family, the constant threat of pride getting the best of us and many spiritual attacks, it has been an unending invitation to pray that God would strengthen us by His mercy.
But, even though the pastor's family is (oh-so-conveniently) located in the trenches of Kingdom work, I am humbled by this life and the providential calling of my dad and our family. I feel profoundly thankful for it, actually - even though I have been known to complain about being the last people to leave the church after Sunday services, or having to forfeit luxuries like weekend getaways!
Being the daughter of a pastor has allowed me to see God provide for the local church in miraculous ways, guide my dad as he writes a sermon, strengthen my parents' marriage through their common burden for the church, and bless my sister and I with many pseudo-aunts and uncles in our congregation. Also, when I am asked what my parents' do, I have the tremendous occasion to start gospel conversations.
More than anything, being a "PK" (preacher's kid, heyyyy!) has been an opportunity to be front-row witness to God's transformative power, at work in people's lives. No amount of discomfort fostered by unexpected elders' meetings in my living room or embarrassing sermon illustrations about me can minimize this.
And, as this Persian New Year celebration exemplified, we are cared for by the members of the Body. We are covered in prayer, recipients of radical generosity and invited into people's homes, where we are encouraged and blessed by their hospitality. Of course, these things are not reserved for the pastor's family- in fact, the whole church should seek to build one another up in these ways!
Being in a multi-cultural church, I am especially thankful that we get to experience and learn from the customs of our brothers and sisters hailing from every corner of the world. This was my first Nowruz celebration- and I was mesmerized by the vibrant Persian folk music, lavish and highly-symbolic Haft-sin table (adapted by our hosts, who are confessing Christians and not Muslim), and the unending stream of food: dolmeh barg (fig leaves), shirin (rice pilaf), reshteh polo (saffron and lamb and rice for days), mint tea and baklava (a heavenly dessert), and on and on.
The flavors were utterly new and fully other- and I felt as though I was traveling during the entire duration of the meal. Though undeniably different than my day to day landscape, the event was sweetly familiar to me- perhaps reminding me of my Middle-Eastern roots and my Lebanese Grand-Papa that I love so dearly. Surrounded by intricately detailed Persian carpets and paintings of the Qajar dynasty, I could not help but think of the beauty that is the Body of Christ- the way two women from the heart of Tehran and a family from Quebec can gather around a meal and call one another brother, sister.
We left, with bellies and hearts full. We agreed these precious times with God's faithful are reminders of the gift Église Oasis (Oasis Church) is to us.
I love the church (and the Church); how it unifies wandering souls, provides refuge and a chorus of me-toos, and draws us to God's loving truths again and again. I am the first to agree that being a PK is not always fun nor easy- but among the myriad of gifts this "role" (for lack of a better word) entails, the neighborliness and everpresent companionship of God's people is one I will remain profoundly grateful for, in years and years to come.
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