Are you a "Mosey" or a "Plugger?"
“He’s a nice guy, “ the disgruntled church member told the elders (with me right there), “He’s just a ‘mosey’ that’s all. You know, just kinda moseys on through life.”
It was one of those meetings I hated as a pastor. Normally, I sat alone with the disenchanted church member who listed my offenses and their reasons for leaving my church. I’d apologize, try to console, and they’d go anyway. This meeting; however, was different, I was there with two of my church elders as they listened to a barrage of gripes as if I wasn’t in the room. Up till then I’d been called all sorts of things, but “mosey” was a first.
She was upset because I wasn’t one of those church planting pastors that hosted a community event every night, nor blanketed the neighborhoods every weekend. Unlike so many I’ve known, I didn’t work 90 to 100 hours a week.
But it wasn’t because I was a “mosey,” just ramblin’ through my days, ambitionless, happy go lucky, taking life as it came to me. It was because I was a husband and a father and no matter what the calling, I wasn’t willing to sacrifice that.
I’m not a “mosey,” I’m an “idealistic plugger.”
What she mistook for a lack of ambition was the high ideal I’d placed on family commitment. After 15 years in the pastorate, I saw family after family disintegrate from the man’s absence, off on his quest for greatness. Many of those families, sadly, belonged to fellows who gave their life to the church, which ironically, boasted commitment to the family. No matter the success, I was not going sacrifice my wife and kids.
I’m anything but ambitionless, it just takes me longer than most; I have to be a “plugger.”
A “plugger” hammers away slowly and steadily at a goal, almost unnoticeable to outside eyes. Andy Dufresne, the lead character in The Shawshank Redemption, plugged away for years, digging a hole with a tiny rock hammer in his prison wall, a hole hidden by his girlie posters. He worked a little at a time and spread the crumbling pieces in the prison yard though holes in his pockets. Until, finally, after 15 years, he escaped.
An academic dean at Dallas Seminary glared at me as I told him my plans for graduation. After outlining my goals of working, being a good father and squeezing the enormous four year degree into eight years, he told me I’d probably never make it. Said that most people give up, that I should consider asking my wife to leave her babies and go to work so I could finish in four years or less. Or, I could just accept that it wasn’t my time to attend.
That wasn’t my option.
He had no idea that I lived and died by the Chinese proverb, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step,” that I’d been taught by the most determined man in the world (my dad) to never quit. So I plugged away and kept at it and after eight years, graduated with family in tow.
Since then, I’ve changed careers and I’ve written my first novel, each activity being its own slow and arduous journey. I know some wondered what took me so long and maybe others mistook me for a mosey. But I can assure you, that isn’t the case. I wake up each morning at 5am to write another book, or I study to be a better teacher and coach. It takes me awhile, that is for sure, but I’m constantly moving forward, one step at a time, and hopefully always with family beside me, laughing and loving though every arduous mile.
It was one of those meetings I hated as a pastor. Normally, I sat alone with the disenchanted church member who listed my offenses and their reasons for leaving my church. I’d apologize, try to console, and they’d go anyway. This meeting; however, was different, I was there with two of my church elders as they listened to a barrage of gripes as if I wasn’t in the room. Up till then I’d been called all sorts of things, but “mosey” was a first.
She was upset because I wasn’t one of those church planting pastors that hosted a community event every night, nor blanketed the neighborhoods every weekend. Unlike so many I’ve known, I didn’t work 90 to 100 hours a week.
But it wasn’t because I was a “mosey,” just ramblin’ through my days, ambitionless, happy go lucky, taking life as it came to me. It was because I was a husband and a father and no matter what the calling, I wasn’t willing to sacrifice that.
I’m not a “mosey,” I’m an “idealistic plugger.”
What she mistook for a lack of ambition was the high ideal I’d placed on family commitment. After 15 years in the pastorate, I saw family after family disintegrate from the man’s absence, off on his quest for greatness. Many of those families, sadly, belonged to fellows who gave their life to the church, which ironically, boasted commitment to the family. No matter the success, I was not going sacrifice my wife and kids.
I’m anything but ambitionless, it just takes me longer than most; I have to be a “plugger.”
A “plugger” hammers away slowly and steadily at a goal, almost unnoticeable to outside eyes. Andy Dufresne, the lead character in The Shawshank Redemption, plugged away for years, digging a hole with a tiny rock hammer in his prison wall, a hole hidden by his girlie posters. He worked a little at a time and spread the crumbling pieces in the prison yard though holes in his pockets. Until, finally, after 15 years, he escaped.
An academic dean at Dallas Seminary glared at me as I told him my plans for graduation. After outlining my goals of working, being a good father and squeezing the enormous four year degree into eight years, he told me I’d probably never make it. Said that most people give up, that I should consider asking my wife to leave her babies and go to work so I could finish in four years or less. Or, I could just accept that it wasn’t my time to attend.
That wasn’t my option.
He had no idea that I lived and died by the Chinese proverb, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step,” that I’d been taught by the most determined man in the world (my dad) to never quit. So I plugged away and kept at it and after eight years, graduated with family in tow.
Since then, I’ve changed careers and I’ve written my first novel, each activity being its own slow and arduous journey. I know some wondered what took me so long and maybe others mistook me for a mosey. But I can assure you, that isn’t the case. I wake up each morning at 5am to write another book, or I study to be a better teacher and coach. It takes me awhile, that is for sure, but I’m constantly moving forward, one step at a time, and hopefully always with family beside me, laughing and loving though every arduous mile.
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