I Donít do Phones
I donít do phones. I hate them.† I donít have one in my home (my wife has a cell) and when I get a ďPink slipĒ message at the office I go to the Internet and look up the person and write them an email instead of returning their phone call. I have my own cell phone but only five people have the number, and I donít carry it with me anywhere. In fact, when I hear a telephone ring I actually cringe. Even when I am watching TV and hear a telephone ring on the program, I shudder. I can't help it I've always been this way. Maybe I need counseling?
Why am I this way?† I'm a preacher's
kid. My dad was usually gone when I got home from school as a lad and I'd look forward to his arrival daily like it was some sort
of paternal parousia. When he did show up I'd get 'my
chance' to be with dad. He was a great dad too, giving me undivided attention at
the dinner table. Except, that is, when the phone rang.
Inevitably our quiet father-son conversation would be interrupted by a harsh RIIIIING! My dad would answer it, of courseóhe was a great pastor just like a great dad. Often the call was often just a simple request for information (usually something he'd already printed in the worship folder or sent out in the midweek). But sometimes it would be a member registering a complaint, to which he'd listen patiently, sigh as he hung up, and return to the table a tiny bit older. Occasionally, the calls signaled some sort of emergency and he'd rush off to the hospital, or over to the church. I don't remember many calls bringing good news.
Even when the calls didnít abduct my dad he'd return to the table preoccupied. It took five minutes before we could get our father-son conversation back into focus. Sometimes we never did. About the time we did, another call could come. It was not uncommon for my dad to get two or even three calls during dinner when I was a kid.
That was then but this is now. Has it gotten any better? In a pastor's home in
You'd think with message machines, secretaries, midweek mailings, and office hours, pastors would get fewer calls at home today. For large church ministers thatís probably so, but is it so for average church ministers?† I don't know. Worse, we now have cell phones. This is progress? Now, even a quiet walk in the park can be interrupted by a demanding ring and almost always the person will take the call and make the real-live-person stand by waiting. Even the 'city of refuge' status of an automobile is gone.
A few years ago a pastor made four cellular calls from his van during the
hour ride back from the airport where he had picked me up -- his ten year old
daughter sat quietly in the back seat. Was her trip to the airport supposed to
be 'quality time' with dad? (I wondered if the best way she could get his
undivided attention was to call him?)
I know, I know, getting and making phone calls is 'all part of the job' for preachers. Doctors get them, so do preachers - it comes with the territory. 'We do it for the Lord' and all that. OK, I accept that to a degree. You might cheerfully bear it, but I hope your kids donít turn out like me.
Somewhere in a pastorís life there ought to be boundaries - creating a sanctuary where even members can't intrude. At least at the dinner table. How? I've seen several good ideas. In one home, they flipped a switch during dinner which turned off the audible ring. Callers heard ringing, but the pastor's family didn't. (They admitted they sometimes forgot to switch it back on after dinner, however.) An increasing number of pastors 'let it go to messaging' during supper, though some others consider this deception. Where there are two lines, some ministers answer only their personal line during dinner. That seems to work, as long as the people don't catch on. And I have one pastor friend who simply has an unlisted number, but his church averages over a thousand, so you might not get away with that at 100.
I don't know what you do to tame the telephone, but I hope you do something. Especially if you have kids.
So what do you think?† How do you harness the telephone?
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March 27, 2007 Keith Drury