My Transition From Pastor To Chaplain

One of the things that often frustrated me about pastoring was that so many people expected me to be the “Answer Man.” People were often frustrated with me because it is not natural for me to give people step-by-step instructions to spiritual growth. I get it, but I also don’t think that’s who the Bible works but maybe that’s a post for another time.

After resigning from professional local church ministry, I gradually found my way in to the Chaplaincy world. I have served as a Hospice Chaplain, a Hospital Chaplain Intern, and now as a Bereavement Counselor. Career transitions can often be difficult, but one of the refreshing things about this change (at least for me) has been understanding the difference between serving as a Local Pastor and as a Chaplain.

Of course everyone does things differently, but most of the Chaplains that I have been privileged to work with understand this distinction. Pastors are long-term. Pastors are expected to have answers. Pastors are often expected to “fix it.” Chaplaincy is (usually) short-term. Chaplaincy is Triage. Chaplains are Interventionists. But I am not there for you in the long-term. It’s not that I don’t want to be, that’s just not my role; though, of course my role as Bereavement Counselor allows for more long-term relationships than Hospital or even Hospice Chaplaincy.

Chaplains rarely get the benefit of long-term relationships and therefore must learn to establish trust as soon as possible and in different ways than pastors. Pastors earn trust by repeatedly being there for people. Pastors earn trust by helping people fix their problems. Pastors earn trust by having the answers.

Chaplains earn trust with empathy. Chaplains earn trust by listening. It is not my role to counsel or fix anything for you. It is my job (as my co-worker likes to say), to be “a heart with ears.” If I do my job well, then I will call you about the loss of your mother but you will spend 35 minutes telling me about the conflict with your sister and how that is complicating your grief. If I’ve done my job well, you will feel lighter at the end of our time together. It’s not that I take your burden (because it is not mine to bear); it’s that you’ve spoken troublesome things out loud in a safe space with no judgment. I don’t fully understand it, but this is what we all want. We just want someone to listen; to care.

This has taken me a long time to learn. But the role of Chaplain (or Bereavement Counselor) is different from pastor. It’s my job to create a safe space and let the Bereaved do with it what they will. Pastors (almost always) have an agenda. My only agenda is for you to know that you are not alone. Even if it’s only via phone calls, I am with you on this journey. I’m not telling you where to go, that’s up to you to figure out. I may drop breadcrumbs to more helpful paths along the way, but I will never tell you which path to choose. That’s not my role.

And this is difficult for many Christians to understand. Am I wasting my time with these people because I don’t “preach the Gospel” to them? I don’t tell them that unless “they accept Jesus as their Personal Savior,” then they’re going to burn in hell forever? No, I do not. That’s not my role and it’s not what they need in those moments. They need a friend who will listen as they unload their burden. Again, I do not pick up that burden because that’s not my role; but we do talk about how, as they speak these things to me, they have taken that load out of their pack and they don’t need to carry it with them any more. This is forgiveness, though I do not use that word.

Listening is hard for a lot of us. But I worry that it is extremely difficult for many Christians. We have been radicalized to believe that the Bible is some sort of magic answer book meant to fix every situation if only we can Jesus Juke the people to the right dialogue. Of course this is an over-generalization. But it is one drawn from years of experience in that type of culture.

People want a friend. They want to know you care. They may ask you to fix their problems, but I’m willing to bet that they won’t. Or that if they do, they’ve got some sort of co-dependency thing going on. What if Christians were willing to enter in to another’s pain just to help free them of it? No other agenda.

Part of the reason I say all of this is because I know that there is often a pride element in pastoring and many pastors look down on chaplains (or at least see them as lesser). In many ways, I have been set free by the transition from Pastor to Chaplain. I am not tied to your expectations of me, but I am there to help just the same. And, when given the choice between someone who will listen without judgment or someone who will listen only enough to tell me what to do, I’d rather sit down with the chaplain.

The chaplain helps you find your own identity and path. The pastor tells you which paths will destroy you and makes sure you take the path they think should. Now, please hear me here: I am a Christian. I believe that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. But I do not believe that it is my job to make other people believe the same thing. People come to me at their most vulnerable times; when they most need someone. It would be religious malpractice for me to use such moments for proselytizing. I am careful with my words and I always try to point people towards Love, but people know when you just view them as a project.

This is not to devalue pastors and their role. Some of the most fulfilling moments of my professional life were as a pastor. I believe in the Church and I support pastors. But that was not a role I felt comfortable carrying ad infinitum and I now understand why. I am not what most people expect from a pastor. I’m not the type to give you exact steps to spiritual growth. I did not break sermons up into alliterative bullet points. I tried to honor the Story we were trusted with and invited people into that Story and allowed the Holy Spirit to implicated as God saw fit. This left a lot of people (including myself) frustrated.

It is my hope and desire that all Christians allow themselves to learn, to grow, and to change. Sanctification is also the process of self-discovery and personal growth. The transition from Pastor to Chaplain has allowed me to reflect on my strengths, my weaknesses, and how I want to best spend my professional life caring for others. And the next time you have a problem, I want you to ask yourself: Do you want someone to fix it or just be there with you and listen?

Why I Don't Use The "Stages of Grief" In Bereavement Counseling

I have been listlessly following the unfolding Ravi Zacharias predatory sexting controversy. I wish I was surprised by the deceptive, manipulative, and destructive side of yet another “Christian Celebrity” being laid bare for all to see.

But none of that mess is actually what I want to talk about today. Instead, while reading through this sordid saga (by the way, if you’re not following this story, it appears that renowned “Christian Apologist” Ravi Zacharias groomed a young woman for sexual predation via phone calls and texts), I found myself talking out loud to myself about one particular phrase. As the story unfolds, the woman upon Zacharias appears to have preyed involves her counselors. In the course of this narrative we find the following section:

“According to the Basels, in the month following the traumatic revelation of the affair, the Thompsons, especially Brad, offered Zacharias “premature forgiveness.” The Basels said both Brad and Lori Anne had not yet worked through the stages of grief and were stuck in a form of denial.”

“Brad and Lori Anne have not yet worked through the stages of grief and were stuck in a form of denial.”

I haven’t stopped thinking about this phrase since I first read the piece. It struck a deep chord that often comes up in my daily work as a Bereavement Counselor.

The Basels are the aforementioned counselors. I do not want to disparage anyone or question the work of other professionals and I hope that comes across. I am not criticizing their work or their approach and it certainly seems to have helped the people involved. But I did find myself responding out loud to that section: “Brad and Lori Anne have not yet worked through the stages of grief and were stuck in a form of denial.”

I hope I’ve built up the suspense enough that you want to know what I said to myself. I said: “That’s because the “stages of grief” weren’t meant for a situation like this. NO, they’re not in denial. They both admit what happened. They just don’t want to accept it. But that’s different from denial.”

As you might discern, this outburst was simply an internal dialogue given external voice. This is something I’ve thought a lot about. I have people ask me all the time about the stages of grief.

These questions are referencing the important and ground-breaking work of Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. She spent hours and hours with dying people. Over the course of listening to these people, Dr. Kübler-Ross developed what have become known as the “5 Stages of Grief.” You’ve probably heard of them:

• Denial

• Anger

• Bargaining

• Depression

• Acceptance

Grievers reference these ideas all the time as if they are steps which we must complete in order to be “healed” from grief. One problem with this idea is that we do not heal from grief the same way we heal from other things. But another is that Dr. Kübler-Ross’ was not based upon nor intended for grievers. Instead, her work was based on her years spent with dying people. She developed these “stages of grief” (grief is the natural reaction to any significant loss or change and may include conflicting emotions) as a way to understand the process that many (NOT ALL) people went through after they had received a terminal diagnosis.

Her work was not based upon nor intended to help grievers; the bereaved; those experiencing significant loss or change. But, for many years, there was no evidence-based research on how to help grievers, so with an honest desire to help others, many people applied Kübler-Ross’, not to the one dying but the ones left behind grieving. And this approach has helped a great number of people. But that doesn’t mean that this is the best use of these principles or that there aren’t better ways to process grief.

I hope all that helps you better understand why I didn’t control my inner dialogue when I read those words: “Brad and Lori Anne have not yet worked through the stages of grief and were stuck in a form of denial.”

Of course I was not privileged to these private conversations, but I have had enough conversations with enough people in similar situations that I am willing to go on the record saying that I really doubt they were in denial. They knew what happened. That’s why they were in counseling in the first place. They just hated it. They didn’t want to accept it (which you have to do to move on in emotionally healthy ways), but none of this is what Kübler-Ross meant in her “denial” stage.

Kübler-Ross observed that many people who had received a terminal diagnosis actually wrested with believing this reality. Not just believing it; many people actively denied it. They pursued 3rd, 4rth, 5th opinions. They ranted about how doctors didn’t know anything and this Google article says that everyone is wrong. They rejected the truth in front of them. This is not the same thing as a broken couple grappling with the shards of infidelity. As I observed; they are in counseling (this particular couple) precisely because they are hurt by what happened. They don’t want it to be true, but this is not the same thing as actively denying that it happened.

As grief and bereavement work has continued, we have learned to appreciate and value Kübler-Ross’ work while also understanding that we have tried to apply it in ways never intended. This is our fault, not hers. We are all growing and learning and (hopefully) getting better. This means admitting when we’ve misunderstood or misapplied theories.

I know you’re not supposed to draw attention to a problem without also bringing a solution, but I didn’t really set out to explain what we might use instead of “The Five Stages of Grief” and that would make this post too long anyways (but if you’re really interested, may I highly recommend looking in to something like the Grief Recovery Method). This was more the type of post where I just had to say out loud the rest of the internal monologue and explain why I (and most Bereavement Counselors I know) no longer use these “Stages” to help grievers. Perhaps I’ll write about the other side of this conversation later, but in the meantime, I hope you at least understand my perspective.