“Submit yourselves one to another in the fear of the Lord” (Ephesians 5:21).
Some church leaders think “submission” applies only to “those other people.”
Leaders must submit also.
Submission can take many forms. It may mean to accept advice, to be teachable, to be willing to receive correction, and to follow your God-given shepherd. When necessary, it may mean to stand up like a man (figure of speech, ladies) and apologize.
Michael Connelly writes the best crime fiction of anyone. His “Lincoln Lawyer” series, about Mickey Haller, and the detective series of Harry Bosch, are as good as they come. But before he began a career as a novelist, he was a crime reporter for two major newspapers. In his book “Crime Beat,” he tells of those early years of covering the dark underside of Fort Lauderdale and Los Angeles.
I’ve chosen three segments from “Crime Beat” as excellent jumping off places for sermons or articles or essays.
It all comes down to moments.
Connelly’s fascination with detectives started with a single moment. He was 16, on his way home from his shift as a hotel dish washer in Fort Lauderdale. The streets were deserted, with no person in sight, and when the red light caught him he thought of running it. Before doing that, he looked both ways. And that’s when he saw something.
“Do not be unequally yoked…” 2 Corinthians 6:14 (a reference to Deuteronomy 22:10 where Israel is told not to plow with a team composed of an ox and a donkey).
We all agree that Scripture teaches believers should not marry unbelievers.
But, would it be an unequal yoke for one called into the ministry to be wed to a Christian who resents his calling and resists the demands that this life places on her?
Surely we can agree that not everyone should marry a preacher.
(The obligatory disclaimer: In our denomination, preachers are men. I know some women pastors in other denominations and respect them very much. But I know nothing of the pressures they face. Thus, for me to write for their situation would be highly presumptuous. Please do not write accusing me of sexism or prejudice against women. Thank you.)
When I began this list a few days ago, mostly I intended it as a light-hearted piece since I’m a preacher and love pastors and their families. Any woman who marries a called servant of the Lord should feel special to Him, I’m thinking, and she needs to know what she’s getting into. And then, I decided to ask for help.
I invited Facebook friends to suggest reasons why someone “might not want to marry a preacher.” I expected soft answers. Oh my, the responses.
Of all the questions church people send my way, this may be the most difficult.
Our pastor has been here umpteen years. He has lost his vision and his energy, and the church is dying. The numbers are down considerably, and yet the church is located in a growing area. We love him and are so grateful to God for his ministry over the years. But isn’t there a limit to the loyalty thing? At what point does a pastor need to be told that his time here is up?
There are no simple or easy answers to this. Handled wrongly, this matter can destroy a church, inflict a terminal wound to a veteran minister, and hurt his family in lasting ways.
On the one hand, the minister is there by the Lord’s doing. Paul tells us the Holy Spirit makes the pastors/elders the overseers of the church (Acts 20:28). We do not want to casually hurt God’s servant since our Lord Jesus said, “Whoever receives you, receives me” (Matthew 10:40). Now, we are not equating today’s pastors with Moses but throughout Israel’s wilderness wanderings, it was clear that the Lord took personally the treatment/mistreatment of His man by the people.
I think that’s still the case. When people mistreated God’s prophets down through the ages, He interpreted that as an offense toward Himself.
So, we always want to try to honor the Lord’s servant, even if he is undeserving at this particular moment.
On the other hand.
As a minister of the Lord Jesus Christ, faithful pastor, you know a great many things. “We know that we have passed from death unto life because we love the brethren” (I John 3:14). “We know love” (3:16). “We know that we are of the truth” (3:19). “We know that He abides in us” (3:24).
But there is so much we do not know. Here is a partial list….
1) You do not know what people in your congregation are going through.
You know some of what several are experiencing. But even with those closest to you, so much of their personal lives is hidden from all but God.
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways” (Isaiah 55:8).
“When the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on earth?” (Luke 18:8)
On the farm, after we killed the hog, someone had to make cracklings, known otherwise as “cooking the lard.” (They were never pronounced “cracklings;” the ‘g’ was always dropped.)
A fire was built under a black iron pot into which cut-up portions of the less-desirable fatty hog meat was thrown. As a worker stood by stirring, the contents boiled and bubbled and gradually released the lard, leaving behind a crisp rind (called the cracklin’), sometimes carrying a streak of lean. The lard went into gallon containers for household cooking throughout the year. Cracklins became snack-foods for relaxing times, and can be bought commercially even today.
Similarly, the messages I have preached over a half-century have been boiled down to their essence. (No greasy rinds left, however!) Mostly, the result–that is, the gist of my preaching these days–ends up looking something like this….
Itzhak Perlman is a champion violinist. Disabled by polio in early childhood, he gets around on a scooter or with hand walkers and is arguably the world’s greatest violin virtuoso.
Hear him once and you are a fan for life.
In USA Today for Wednesday September 2, 2015, Perlman said, “If you are a golfer, you have to be reliable. But you cannot do that as a musician. The challenge, as I tell my students, is not how you play something the first time. What about the 10th, or the 50th, or the 150th? Am I going to play something the way I did last time? Maybe yes, maybe no, but the point is never to go on automatic.”
We preachers know about going on automatic. It’s what actors call “phoning it in.”
I’m thinking of one-on-one conversations in which a pastor might ask this of the church member…. Not a good idea. Do not try this….
1. How did you vote on that issue?
2. Are you a Democrat or Republican?
3. Will you support my political candidate?
“Faithful are the wounds of a friend…” (Proverbs 27:6)
Perhaps the most dangerous place on the church campus is the pastor’s counseling office.
When the minister is shut up in a tight space with a vulnerable female who confides in him the most personal things of her life, often the two people do something completely natural and end up bonding emotionally.
The bonding process is simple: she opens up to him, he sympathizes with her, she reaches out to him, and there it goes.
Many a ministry and a great many marriages have been destroyed in the counseling room.
Can we talk about this?
Pastor, if you are like the rest of us, you’ve had this happen….
You brought a sermon on an important scriptural passage which you knew beyond a doubt was from the Lord and inspired of God. You had a great time studying and praying for this sermon, and you knew this was cutting edge stuff. So, why was the sermon itself so poorly received? Halfway through, you could sense the congregation’s collective minds wandering. How could this happen?
Clearly, the problem could be any of one thousand things. But if I may, I will share a strong conviction on the number one reason your excellent sermon was so poorly received.