Category: Personal

I Cherish…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment

the gift of the sun, its warmth, its brightness, is length in this season. Gray is common in Minnesota. Cold is as well. All sorts of foul weather make their presence known here where the plains and woods meet and we live in their swirling dance.

A day with sun, calm, bright, warm, and full of a kind of natural graciousness is a gift. A string of those days is more than we can ask. For those of us pale and weary from cold winds, leaden skies, and various precipitations they are signal that there may be, in fact, a heaven. Presuming we make it we’ll be sure when we see the forecast, sunny and pleasant, well, forever.

The clouds are rolling in again this morning. Pity. We’ll say,  as Minnesotans often do, “We need the moisture.” Its our way of rationalizing the whole thing rather than just packing up and moving. We actually remember pleasant days in these parts, they’re conversations starters, even with strangers, because its our common bond. Yesterday was one of them and now I’ll at least have something to talk about on the elevator ride.

“Wasn’t yesterday great?” “Yes” “I could sure use a few more days like that.” “Me, too.” And then its off to work.

 

32 Years Ago…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ 3 Comments

today I was tossed in the back of a White Bear Lake, MN, squad car and hauled off to Ramsey County Detox. I was depressed, lonely, afraid, angry, and medicating my world with beer.

It was a hard time. Hard to hear my friend say he wouldn’t take me in and my parents say they didn’t want me at home either. There were so many questions and so few answers. There was trouble and very few safe places for refuge. There was so much to learn but it looked like time was short.  I was hurting people and hurting myself. All I wanted was to have my mind and heart and soul be at rest for just a minute and drinking was as close to that as I could get.

God knows that I wouldn’t want to do all those days over again and God also knew they were necessary if anything good was going to come of me. The first thing that had to go was the drinking. It was like pouring gas on a fire. Then each year unfolded and I learned more and grew more and somehow have made it to today. Outside of things related to the Eucharist I haven’t had anything to drink for 32 years today.

The glory is all God’s. His was the grace the unraveled my knots and continues to do so. His was the love that sustained and showed itself to me in all the people who came to my aid. His was the peace that helped me through some very hard valleys. His was the life that would not let me go, even when I wanted to die.

My being a Priest is, in part, something I felt I needed to do, a service of gratitude for a life that was spared from what could have been much worse. Whatever else happens in my life I pray that I will always be faithful to the God who was and is faithful to me in ways I cannot even imagine.

From time to time I’ve thought about what it would be like to lift  that beer or crack open a bottle. Sometimes when I’m tired and frustrated I just want to erase my mind with the stuff.  Yet I’ve got better things to live for, higher goals to attempt, and a home with the Lord who loves me at the end of it all.  This helps me through. This makes it all worthwhile.

No looking back. It’s all good. Thank you God. Thank you family. Thank you friends. I’m alive, more alive now than I’ve ever been and it’s getting better each day.

And the joy…

Long My Imprisoned Spirit Lay,
fast Bound In Sin and Nature?s Night;
thine Eye Diffused A Quickening Ray;
I Woke, The Dungeon Flamed With Light;
my Chains Fell Off, My Heart Was Free,
I Rose, Went Forth, And Followed Thee.
my Chains Fell Off, My Heart Was Free,
I Rose, Went Forth, And Followed Thee.

A Must Read for Priests…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment

As a person who served two toxic Baptist parishes and two good Orthodox churches I found this article compelling. Those two toxic parishes have definitely affected my own willingness to take on a parish full-time. They lurk in the back of my mind every time I think about stepping out and asking for an assignment.

A sample…

They are called “clergy killers” — congregations where a small group of members are so disruptive that no pastor is able to maintain spiritual leadership for long.

And yet ministers often endure the stresses of these dysfunctional relationships for months, or even years, before eventually being forced out or giving up.

Adding to the strain is the process, which is often shrouded in secrecy. No one — from denominational officials to church members to the clerics themselves — wants to acknowledge the failure of a relationship designed to be a sign to the world of mutual love and support.

But new research is providing insights into just how widespread — and damaging — these forced terminations can be to clergy.

An online study published in the March issue of the Review of Religious Research found 28 percent of ministers said they had at one time been forced to leave their jobs due to personal attacks and criticism from a small faction of their congregations.

The researchers from Texas Tech University and Virginia Tech University also found that the clergy who had been forced out were more likely to report lower levels of self-esteem and higher levels of depression, stress and physical health problems.

 

 

Dear Readers…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment

I’ve been away in Tennessee this past week and hope to return to blogging on Sunday or Monday.  I have a few things to write about and I thank you for your continuing support.

I am here to announce…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment

the official end of the world.

I was scanning the channels this morning and came on the Cartoon Network and a program entitled “Looney Tunes” . I grew up on the “toons” so I thought a blast from the past would be cool. Low and behold the program description read:

“Yosemite Sam leans on Bugs when his plans to go off the grid go astray”

No, I am not kidding. I am not on drugs but I’m thinking about starting. No anvils. No shooting. No chase across the desert. No exploding carrots. Now I know why the world is going to hell in a hand basket and with any luck it should end way before December 21.

NO! NO! NO! A thousand times no. That whirring sound is Mel Blanc in his grave.

Now I must go and take a shower, a very long shower to hide my tears.

I Think People Worry…

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too much about what they’re going to be when they grow up. I know I do. Just lately, though, and almost certainly spurred on my encounter with my heart issues I’ve begun to see a few things.

First I don’t think you ever grow up if by that you mean reaching some state where you have arrived at wherever you planned to go. A person might want that but life has this interesting tendency to get in the way of things.  A person always seems to be a product under development, even if they really don’t want to be, so get used to the ride because it’s how things are supposed to be.

And then what does it mean to “be?” We think of this often times in terms of an occupation or a certain status, something external we can achieve. Is it? It may be a part of it but such an idea may also escape the essence of what being is all about because it focuses on externals.

I like the Christian answer, “Be a Christian, be like Christ, and the other things will make sense within that larger context.” What should I be as I grow up? I should be a Christian and the rest of the stuff, what job I have, where I live, my education, it will all find a way to work itself out.

In fact, I’m not really obligated to be anything except for a Christian. There can be good in the rest of the things of life, but there’s no obligation. I can be this one day and that another as I work to make a living but my real occupation is to follow Christ.

There’s a tremendous amount of freedom in that and very little of the “I must get this all in before I die” panic that grips so many. There’s a quote attributed to St. Augustine (at least from my sources) that says “Love God and do what you please.”  There’s a lot of truth in that and as I get older and still  about the whole growing up thing it makes more and more sense.

I'm on My Way…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment

to Tennessee and Johnny Cash’s grave. Nothing morbid but just a chance to pay a little respect.It’s a good thing.

Elvis is okay and I suspect Graceland is nice but if I go there I’ll just think of the King, face down, pants around the ankles, in the bathroom upstairs. I can’t do that because I’d just get mad at all of his “friends” who rode the gravy train and did nothing to stop the fall. I can’t do that because it just seems wrong.

Johnny was headed that way too but he had different friends and the chance to make up for lost time. His grave is sad but not tragic, out in the open with no fee for admission. I’ll stand there and say a few kind words, get in the car, pop in his CD and float all the way back to the hotel.

It just seems like the right thing to do.