A searchable, downloadable PDF of the original review appears below. J.H. (Hans) Kouwenberg is pastor of St. Giles, Prince George, and editor of Channels.
Working the Angles: The Shape of Pastoral Integrity. Eugene H. Peterson. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Wm. B. Eerdmans Pub. Co., 1987. (reprinted 1988), 137 pp.
This is the first of Eugene Peterson’s books which I had ever read. I had a few of Peterson’s books stuffed in my shelves — a couple on the Psalms and one on Jeremiah. But I had not really read them. And then I started to prepare a course on “Spirituality and Ministry” at Fuller Seminary. I knew that Peterson was to be the teacher and so I thought I had better read something by him. I had seen several articles by him in Christianity Today and had been intrigued by his interest in searching and sounding out a genuine spirituality — especially for pastors and I wanted to hear more. And then Working the Angles came to my attention. It was just what I needed to read and to hear.
For some time I had been busy (literally) — I can now say with some embarrassment — with being a managerial kind of pastor (the worst type, I now know) and finding that my own responsibility wasn’t really growing by leaps and bounds. In fact, my own initially fervent “quiet times” had rather died out and although I was finding fulfillment in my ministry — things were growing and I was enjoying ministering to people and I was busy — my “first love,” my devotion to God, to Jesus Christ, was not exactly on fire any more. I knew I needed “something more” (Catherine Marshall). Peterson’s book on the basic tasks of the pastor — praying, reading Scripture, and giving (and receiving) spiritual direction — refocussed my thinking and began to restore some of my spiritual passion.
Church growth and church administration had captured a lot of my attention and time in the past seventeen years at St. Giles’ in Prince George. And it was no theoretical commitment either. Things were growing, thanks be to God! But I needed to be reminded of what first got me into the ministry and what made for real growth, in my own heart and in the lives of others: an intimacy with God, a fascination with Scripture, and an ongoing, significant conversation with others about these realities. So Peterson rang old bells for me that had not been rung for some time.
One reason for getting into the Doctor of Ministry courses, initially back in September of 1985, was to deal with the spiritual management of my time. Often I was too busy; often I did not get done what I really wanted/ needed to get done: that is, time for personal study and inspiration, time for congregational teaching/preaching preparation, time for attention to my family’s concerns and needs. Moving from a course on “Building Community Through Small Groups” — and it took me a typical, long time to get through that one! (until January 1988!) — to one on “The Theology and Practice of Preaching” and, now, to one on “Spirituality and Ministry” makes me feel I have finally ended up with the richest and best course of all. I am beginning to be back where I began. T.S. Eliot’s words ring true for me, again.
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
(Little Gidding, The Four Quartets)
And this is “a conversation” with this book and not precisely a “book review.” I have not yet interacted directly with its text and content save to note Peterson’s threefold concern: the practice of prayer, the reading of Scripture, and the giving (and) receiving of spiritual direction. But for me, as for him, this is the beginning, the middle, and the ending of the book (and of our task).
Peterson does a good job of wooing me back to these basics by offering an intelligent and compelling telling of the story of the use of the Psalms by the Hebrews and the church as a kind of prayer book, of the nature of prayer, and of the need for a “sabbath” (a space) for prayer. Peterson doesn’t just tell me to pray (even cleverly); he provides a context and motives for praying. After reading and (rereading) him, I find myself wondering, “What’s holding me back?” “Why am I not doing it?!” Indeed. And somewhat more, now, I am doing it. I need to/want to work on this.
So, too, with Scripture, Peterson, an apt word-smith, seeks to “turn my eyes into ears” when I read the Bible. And he does. After reading him, I read the Scripture (for a little while, anyway) with new attentiveness. I realize that the oral reading of Scripture, in church, and in a Bible story fashion with my children at home, is a powerful way of hearing Scripture. I’m sure attentive when I lead in this. But when others read? That takes some more effort, waiving my pride at my own (perceived better) reading. And to read the Scripture aloud, for myself? That takes some more effort, waiving my embarrassment at reading to myself. I need to get out of the academic bind and listen to Scripture again. Further, Peterson is no slouch when it comes to an awareness of and working with the disciplines of literacy criticism. He knows the field. But, delightfully, he argues for a “contemplative exegesis.” With this kind of mind-set, the reading of the Scriptures need never be dry.
And, finally, Peterson introduced me to “spiritual direction,” a relatively new concept for me and yet one which, more and more, as I read about it, seek it for myself, and try to share it, is the name of the one thing I do from day to day that fulfills my calling as a preacherpastor. I always knew I enjoyed conversation with other people. I grew up as a Christian because of spiritual conversation with significant others. And I still enjoy, most of all, whether in my study or in someone’s home, spiritual conversation with others. Now I realize it might be called “spiritual direction!” But Peterson taught me that it’s not all that definable a task.
Spiritual direction means taking seriously, with a disciplined attention and imagination, what others take casually. “Pray for me,” is often a casual remark. The spiritual director gives it full attention. All those moments in life when awareness of God breaks through the crust of our routines a burst of praise, a pang of guilt, an episode of doubt, boredom in worship — these take place all the time and mentioned from time to time in half serious ways while we are on the run to something big or important. Being a spiritual director means a readiness to clear space and arrange time to look at these elements of our life that are not at all peripheral but are central — unobstrusive signals of transcendence. By naming and attending and conversing, we teach our friends (and ourselves) to “read the Spirit” and not just the newspapers (p. 105).
What Peterson is teaching me is that attentiveness is the name of the game. And I know that this is not academic attentiveness or religious attentiveness. It is different. And, I think, harder. “This is one part of our work that stubbornly resists generalizations. (Perhaps)… the ‘unimportant’ parts of ministry might be the most important. The things we do when we don’t think we are doing anything might make the most difference” (p. 111)!
It was this section of the book that set me off to begin seriously to think about getting a spiritual director for myself. I need one.