What I miss most about pastoring

Not one thing.

As much as I loved pastoring, I do not miss it.

That might need a tiny bit of explaining.

I’ve not pastored since 2004, when I became the area-wide “director of missions” for the SBC churches in metro New  Orleans, a Southern Baptist position similar to the Methodist District Superintendent or some minor bishop (but, as we tell our Catholic friends, “bishop minus the authority and funny hat”).  After 5 years, I retired to a ministry of itinerant preaching, writing, cartooning/sketching, and honey-doing.

I do not miss pastoring, even though I put in 42 years serving six churches and by all reports, did a fair job of it.

I do not miss the stress.

I do not miss the constant demands placed on a pastor and the sleepless nights that result.

I do not miss the relentless return of the Sabbath with its requirement for several new sermons and fresh presentations at every level.

I do not miss deacons meetings and monthly church business sessions.

I don’t miss hospital visitation, even though I still do that occasionally.

I  don’t miss weddings or funerals, even though I still get asked once in a while.

I don’t miss the administrative details, the long staff meetings, the occasional interstaff bickering and competition, or  the endless impossible-to-meet expectations placed on me by a few high octane  members (but mostly by myself).

But I did love pastoring.  As a new seminary grad in the summer of 1967, I had to get straight with the Lord whether I was to pastor churches or teach history in college (this was the original plan) and be a bi-vo pastor of small churches.  While on my knees in a hotel room in San Antonio, my wife asleep nearby, I heard from the Lord in no uncertain terms: I was to pastor churches.

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The 5 most frustrating things pastors do

Pastors are called of God and assigned some of the most difficult work in the universe.  For the most part they labor well and long and you never hear a complaint out of them. They are my heroes.

Most of them.

The typical pastor in our denomination serves a church running 100 or fewer in attendance, which tells you the offerings are inadequate to provide much of a living for him. In some cases he holds down a second job or his wife works. Or both. Most amazing of all, he manages to live on what they pay him.

I believe in these guys. They are my brothers and my admiration of them knows no bounds.

Most of them.

But there are times when some of these ministers do the most self-defeating things. Not all of them, thankfully. But enough to warrant our addressing the issue as a caution to the rest of the Lord’s stable of shepherds.

Here is my personal list of the 5 most frustrating things pastors do.

FIRST: It’s frustrating to see preachers cut corners on sermon preparation.

What is bizarre about this is that the Sunday sermon is 50 percent of their job, as far as most of the congregation is concerned.

I grant you that in the more liturgical churches that isn’t so, with the ministers’ homilies often appearing as 5 minute reflections thrown together just before he entered the sanctuary.

But in the world I live in, the only time 90 percent of the congregation sees the pastor is on Sunday morning. If he does poorly there, he has just about sealed his fate with the membership as a whole.

And yet.

From the scant attention given the Sunday sermon by many ministers, from the small study time allotted to its preparation, and from the haphazard delivery of this message during the morning worship service, one would think neither the members nor the minister puts much of a value on the sermon.

It is the single most important thing the pastor does. If he is smart, if he values his ministry, and if he wants to go on receiving a paycheck to provide for his family, he will give great importance to planning that message.

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To have success in ministry, start by making a mistake

In his book Everybody’s Normal Till You Get to Know Them, John Ortberg makes a confession. You get the impression that it was not easy in coming.

Here it is in his own words:

The church where I work videotapes most of the services, so I have hundreds of messages on tape. Only one of them gets shown repeatedly.

This video is a clip from the beginning of one of our services. A high school worship dance team had just brought the house down to get things started, and I was supposed to transition us into some high-energy worship by reading Psalm 150.

This was a last-second decision, so I had to read it cold, but with great passion: “Praise the Lord! Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty firmament!” The psalm consists of one command after another to praise, working its way through each instrument of the orchestra.

My voice is building in a steady crescendo; by the end of the psalm I practically shout the final line, only mispronouncing one word slightly:

“Let everything that has breasts, praise the Lord.”

Ortberg tells what happened next.

A moment of silence. The same thought passes through four thousand brains: Did he just say what I think he did? In church? Is this some exciting new translation I can get at the bookstore?

Then, everybody in the place just lost it. They laughed so hard for so long, I couldn’t say a thing. It was zygomatic. I finally just walked off the stage, and we went on with the next part of the service.

I have been teaching at that church for eight years. Of all the passages I have exegeted and all the messages I have preached, that is the one moment that gets replayed before conferences and workshops. Over and over.

That moment forever endeared Pastor John Ortberg to his congregation.

In fact, the power of that moment was so strong, it would have been worthwhile for him to have planned the flub.

I sometimes say to friends, “If you ever find yourself sitting among two or more preachers and want to get something started, ask them about their most embarrassing moments. Every preacher has had a dozen. And some are pretty hilarious.”

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The two times a pastor is most vulnerable

“Guard through the Holy Spirit who dwells in us the treasure which has been entrusted to you” (2 Timothy 1:14).

We’re all vulnerable.  Let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall (I Corinthians 10:12).  The brother who gave us that reminder was himself constantly being knocked down, but getting back up.  If anyone knew the subject of vulnerability, Paul did (see 2 Corinthians 4:8-10).

After telling young Pastor Timothy of a coming time when people would not stand for sound doctrine and strong preaching, but would “turn away their ears from the truth and will prefer myths,” Paul said, “But as for you, be sober in all things (that is, clear-thinking), endure hardship (expect it, and plan to get through it), do the work of an evangelist (keep telling Heaven’s good news), and fulfill your ministry (do not let any critic pull you off course).”  (With my interjections, that’s 2 Timothy 4:5).

I find it amazing and truly heart-warming how such reminders to a minister twenty centuries ago fit us so perfectly today.  That’s one more reason, out of ten thousand, why you and I live in this Word. There is nothing like it anywhere.

Now, returning to our subject of the minister’s vulnerability….

The minister is most vulnerable at two times: in the few minutes before the morning service begins and in the half hour after it ends.

A wise minister will take steps to guard himself in order to give his best to the Lord and the people.  (Proverbs 4:23 “Guard your heart.”  Acts 20:28 “Be on guard for yourself and for all the flock….”)

A caring membership will protect the pastor at the same time for the same reasons.

FIRST: In the few minutes before the worship service where he is to preach, the pastor is vulnerable.

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Serving the Lord emphatically

“What I tell you in the darkness, speak in the light; and what you hear whispered in your ear, proclaim upon the housetops” (Matthew 10:27).

“The disciples went on their way from the presence of the Council, rejoicing that they had been considered worthy to suffer shame for His name” (Acts 5:41).

“Nobody ever enjoyed the presidency as I did…. While president I have been president emphatically.”  –Theodore Roosevelt, quoted by David McCullough in “The American Spirit”

The Lord does not want your spare time and loose change.”  –Pastor Brent Thompson, Heflin (AL) Baptist Church.

The Lord wants His people to live life emphatically.  “Whatsoever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might,” says Ecclesiastes 9:10.

We are to seize the day, live each moment, and to delight ourselves in Him.

Listen to Paul as he seeks to motivate and energize young Pastor Timothy:

“You therefore, my son, be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus.  And the things which you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses, these entrust to faithful men, who will be able to teach others also…”

“Be diligent to present yourself approved to God as a workman who does not need to be ashamed, handling accurately the word of truth….”

“I solemnly charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by His appearing and His kingdom, preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, exhort, with great patience and instruction….”

“But you be sober in all things, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry.”  (all quotations from 2 Timothy)

Timothy was preaching to God’s people at Ephesus (I Timothy 1:3).  So, his father in the ministry, the esteemed Apostle Paul, was telling him to “pastor those people emphatically.”

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Let’s you and me pray for our pastors. Seriously.

There was a time when it was easier to pastor a church than it is today. There was a time when churches running 1,000 on Sunday were considered mega. There was a time when churches took what they had in the way of pastoral leadership and pretty much went with it without a lot of complaints.

Those days are no more. It’s a different world we live in.

People demand strengths and excellence and results from their leaders. They look for power in the pulpit and skills in relationships. They want advanced degrees and magnetic winsomeness and it wouldn’t hurt if you looked sharp either.

They want to be fed in sermons and challenged in programs. They want input in decisions and no longer hand the keys to the kingdom to the incoming preacher.

What they do not want is to be embarrassed from the pulpit, for their church to become the laughingstock of the community, for the attendance to drop, or for the financial situation to become dire.

If they could, they would like the church to reach the unchurched and make a difference in the poorer section of town, but they want this without changing the nature of what their church has always been.

If they could, they’d like to become a mission-minded congregation where members go overseas and return with glowing reports of work done, but they’d prefer this without themselves being asked to go.

They want good sermons and effective leadership from a pastor who has earned their respect and whom they like.

Just don’t bother them too much in accomplishing this.

Poor preacher. Someone ought to encourage him. Lord knows there are enough forces out there overwhelming him in the other direction.

Today, let’s pray for him. Let’s “give him heart,” as the word “encourage” actually means.

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How to detect a fake

In the latter months of World War II, as the Allies were closing in on Germany, the Nazis developed a ruse that worked well for a while.

They would find German soldiers who spoke English well and dress them as Americans. They would arrange for them to be “lost” and to rejoin the Alllied forces as they moved forward. Their task: to infiltrate the American troops and assassinate Generals Eisenhower and Patton.

In time, the good guys developed some tests for exposing the fakes. One German was cut down by the Americans when they saw how he was walking. He was ramrod straight whereas all our troops slouched when they walked.

Another group learned to address the soldier using “pig Latin.” If he was stymied by that, he was exposed.

And they developed questions. Two, I recall, were: Who is Betty Grable? and What position did Lou Gehrig play?

The answers were: movie star/pinup girl and first base for the Yankees. It was understood that every GI in the world would know this.

If you have been in the warfare against the forces of righteousness and the enemies of all that is good and holy for any period of time, you have come up against counterfeits and pretenders, fakes and shams.

The question is, how do you tell? And what should we do about them?

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The pastor’s in trouble, so he prays. (Good idea!)

Nothing jerks our prayers out of the “blessed generality” stage like a crisis. The best kind of crisis for that is for a close loved one to get in serious trouble–car wreck, cancer, emergency surgery, that sort of thing.

But a close second is a personal crisis, the kind where someone is making life miserable for you and it’s taking all the reserves you can muster to get out of bed in the morning and walk into one more day. You either quit praying altogether, the worst possible choice, or your prayers lose their vain repetitions and meaningless phrases and get down to business.

Yesterday, going through a stack of notes from the 1990s, I found such a prayer of mine, written in the thick of church conflict. It’s undated, so there’s no way of determining what particular struggle was going on then. We went through so many, the first six or seven years of my 14-year pastorate at the last church we served.

The prayer was written in longhand and filled two pages. It’s about as specific as one would want a prayer to be. No more “bless him” and “help her.” But on the other hand, it does not call names and I’m glad to report, it’s not as harsh as some of the Psalms where David or whoever is praying for the children of his enemies to not live to see that day’s sunset.

Here is the prayer, along with a few comments. I send it forth in the hope that some servant of the Lord in the fight of his life may find encouragement to hang tough and be faithful.

Father, what I’m praying for is that….

1) Everything I preach may come from thee. Lead me please regarding subjects, texts, stories, applications, and especially in the delivery.”

When people are fighting the pastor, invariably they attack his sermons.  The critics are hitting us where we are most vulnerable, because few of us feel that our preaching is all it should be. They will find fault with what you are preaching, the scriptures you use, the stories you tell, the way you say it, everything. If you are doing all things well, they will criticize your tie–or the lack of one.

The remedy is to turn their opposition into motivation to pray harder, study more diligently, and do everything you know in order to preach the sharpest, most powerful sermons you’re capable of doing.

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Like being let out of jail

My first pastorate was the most frustrating of the six churches I shepherded. But I made a discovery that was like striking oil or stumbling over a gold vein.

Here’s what happened.

Just after finishing college, we married and I took a job. The plan was to work for two years and pay some bills, save what we could, and then head to seminary in New Orleans. That, incidentally, is precisely what we did, I’m happy to report.

In the meantime, I wanted to pastor a church. The problem was I was Southern Baptist and had just graduated from a Methodist college (Birmingham-Southern) with a degree in history and political science. My training in preaching, in church leadership, and in theology were practically non-existent.

Not exactly the kind of credentials an SBC pastor search committee was looking for.

Thanks to the recommendation from a preacher friend of my brother Ron, a tiny church some 25 miles north of the city invited me to fill the pulpit. After a couple of Sundays, they apparently decided to live dangerously and made me their pastor. I was elated.

I would remain there for the next year and two months. My short tenure furnished one of the most forgettable periods in that church’s long history. But it taught me a hundred lessons more precious than gold, lessons found only in the school of experience and nowhere else.

The most inspiring moment in that pastorate, however, came the day something hit me which had never occurred to my untutored mind. It came with such force that I laughed out loud at the prospect:

I could resign this church and they would call someone better. I would be free and they would go forward. It was a win-win proposition.

The question on the mind of readers is why leaving that church was a new thought to me. Delicious, even.

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Pastor, those scars on your soul are blessed of God

I bear in my body the brand-marks of Jesus.  Galatians 6:17.

We all do.

I suppose it’s a vocational hazard.

We preachers walk through the valley of the shadow with people in the church and out of it. We give them our best, weep with them, tell what we know, and offer all the encouragement we can. Then, we go on to the next thing. Someone else is needing us.

That family we ministered to, however, does not go on to anything. They are forever saddled with the loss of that child or parent. They still carry the hole in their heart and return to the empty house or sad playroom. However, there is one positive thing they will always carry with them.

They never forget how the pastor ministered to them.

He forgets.

Not because he meant to, but because after them, he was called to more hospital rooms, more funeral homes, and more counseling situations. He walked away from that family knowing he had a choice: he could leave a piece of himself with them–his heart, his soul, something–or he could close the door on that sad room in his inner sanctum in order to be able to give of himself to the next crisis.

If he leaves a piece of himself with every broken-hearted family he works with, pretty soon there’s nothing left.

So he turns it off when he walks away. He goes on to the next thing.

He hates doing that. But it’s a survival thing. It’s the only way to last in this kind of tear-your-heart-out-and-stomp-that-sucker ministry.

Case in point.

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