THE RUNNING PREACHER [W, 12-2-20]

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections On Faith & Life for the Years of Winter

THE RUNNING PREACHER     [W, 12-2-20]

Someone recently asked me what I am doing for mental health during these pandemic days. The answer is: I walk. I’ve been a daily runner or walker for over 40 years now.

Since March 15, I haven’t missed a day walking 45 to 60 minutes, outdoors. I won’t walk indoors, at the Y or the mall, because there are too many people, and questionable air circulation. Even outdoors, I always carry a mask, in case I encounter someone I need to help, like old the lady who had fallen and couldn’t get up. We live in a temperate zone, so outdoors is almost always walkable at some time of day. During the pandemic, even on the rainy days, there has been a break of an hour at some time when I could get out and walk. It really does help keep me sane, or as close as I’m going to come to sanity.

Answering that question, though, reminded me of the new Disciples of Christ pastor who came to Hoopeston, IL when I was the UMC preacher there.

I didn’t get to know him very well. He was there only a few months before the bishop moved me to Charleston. But I heard enough about him from my members to be jealous of him, and to be mad at him for making me look bad.

He was a coffee schmoozer. Every morning he went down to one of the watering holes for coffee and donuts. There he would greet and schmooze with all of my members who gathered there. They told me how wonderful he was. There was, at least to my mind, an implied complaint—their pastor did not do that.

I became a long-distance runner when we lived in Hoopeston. I was turning 40 and aware that I was out of shape. Fortunately for me, that was the time of the big running explosion, ignited by the combination of the greed of Phil Knight [Nike], the medical affirmation of Dr. George Sheehan [On Running], the mentoring of Jim Fixx [The Complete Book of Running], and the modeling of Bill Rodgers [Boston Marathon]. Thus, it was easy for me to get into running; it was socially accepted, even for a preacher.

I wasn’t a very fast runner, though, so by the time I had done ten or fifteen miles to start the day, at coffee time I had to be in my study, working on a sermon, or in my office, doing whatever it is that preachers do there. Also—and the “also” is usually where the truth is—I just didn’t really enjoy café schmoozing much.

On our last day in Hoopeston, he came down the street to say good-bye to me. [Our church buildings were only a block apart.] He was dressed as usual—dark, three-piece suit, white shirt and tie, a gold chain across his vest. Pretty much the opposite of the way I usually looked.

The gold chain was always very prominent because it stuck out a long way. I felt sort of bad about being unhappy with him, because he had made me look bad during the months we had shared in that town. That was neither Christian nor collegial. And after all, he really was a nice guy. So I told him how I felt.

He said, “I know how you feel. When I’m having coffee and donuts with your members, they look at my belly and say, ‘You know, our pastor runs.’”

John Robert McFarland