If you’re a pastor, here’s an interesting game to play. And that’s all it can be, unfortunately–a game.

If you could go back to the churches you have served, what would you do differently?

I’m always intrigued by those who say, “If I could live my life over, I wouldn’t change a thing.” I think, “What? You never made a mistake? Never really blew it? Never did anything stupid?”

We all did, let’s face it. And surely, if we went back and knew what we know now, we would do many, many things differently.

Here’s my take on this subject.

The first church I served was a tiny congregation 25 miles north of Birmingham, Alabama. It was my first attempt at preaching and pastoring and I did poorly, I’m afraid. The good folks at Unity Baptist Church of Kimberly, Alabama, were patient with me for the 14 months I served them. At the end of that time, I resigned and for 6 months served as part-time associate pastor of Central Baptist Church in Tarrant, Alabama. We were living in Tarrant and I worked down the street from the church at the cast iron pipe plant as secretary to the production manager.

If I could do the 14 months over at Unity, the one thing I would do is seek out a mentor.

I would call up a pastor or two in Tarrant or Gardendale and ask if they would let me buy them a cup of coffee. As we sat across the table from each other, I would say, “I’m lost. I have to prepare three messages a week and don’t have a clue how to get started. Give me some advice.”

And, if the advice was something that worked for me, I would have asked if we could meet regularly for a while until I got this figured out.

The folks at Unity would have appreciated the effort and the congregations of subsequent churches would have benefited. As it was, by going alone, I took the far more arduous way to find out to make sermons and lead a congregation.

What would I do differently at Central, Tarrant, during my six months there? Very little, probably. My duties were to call on people who had visited our services and help Pastor Morris Freeman in anything he asked. For this, no money changed hands, but we received free use of the old parsonage, thus saving us rent.

The one thing I wish I had done was to take a layman with me visiting. It would have done me good, blessed the layman, and made a statement to the people we were calling on.

Both of those churches came in my pre-seminary years, 1962-64.

From 1965-67, while in seminary, I pastored 25 miles west of New Orleans. Paradis Baptist was located in the community of that name, and situated on Alligator Bayou. I took what I had managed to learn from Unity and Central and what I was trying to learn in seminary, and did some things right. The church almost tripled in the less-than-three-years we were there.

What I wish I had done was to bring the church leaders into our home. Only as we were leaving in late 1967 and our men were loading the truck did they see the conditions of the apartment the church provided for us. The door facings and window sills were rotting. I can still hear the exclamations of one man who said, “I had no idea.”

As a result, they built a new brick home for the next pastor. I rejoiced that they had done this, but wish I had thought to expose them to the need earlier.

Emmanuel Baptist Church in Greenville, Mississippi, was my first pastorate after seminary. We served from late 1967 through 1970. The church came close to doubling in size during that time and we did several things right. The fellowship was incredible and the members were responsive to everything we tried.

The Mississippi Delta during the late 1960s was a hotbed of racial tension. I preached God’s love for all people and took a lot of flack from those who resented it. In 1969 we led an area-wide evangelistic crusade at the high school stadium that brought in 5,000 people on two Sunday afternoons and almost that number each weeknight. We estimated that 10 percent of the audience was African-American. The evangelist said it was the most mixed congregation he had addressed in his ministry. A couple hundred people were saved.

What I wish I had done was to reach out to more of the Black ministers and get to know them. I’m afraid my love for other races was more theoretical than something I actually practiced.

For the years of 1971-73, I served on the staff of the First Baptist Church of Jackson, Mississippi. As the church’s first minister of evangelism, my job was to visit and witness and to train members in that practice. The people were infinitely gracious to us and we made lifelong friends.

I wish I had done a better job of what I went there to do. Instead of focusing on evangelism, soon I began to be distracted by and involved in other areas of the church such as the college ministry. I taught Bible studies and did weddings and filled the pulpit in the pastor’s absence. (One lesson I learned that helped in later pastorates was to be aware of the tendency of a staff member to move away from the tasks we hired him for into other more interesting fields. More than once, I had to call a minister back to his original assignment.)

For the next dozen years, 1974-86, I pastored the First Baptist Church of Columbus, Mississippi. We had moderately good growth, built a new building, went on mission trips, and I became deeply involved in the life of the community.

What I wish I had done better there was to dream bigger. About halfway through my tenure at Columbus, our growth plateaued and I probably grew complacent. I wish now I had sought God’s vision, then led our people to stretch toward far greater things.

In the summer of 1986, I began pastoring the First Baptist Church of Charlotte, North Carolina, a church made visible by the prominence of Pastor Carl Bates, who served from 1959-1980. I was excited to live in such a glisteningly new urban area and to arrive in time to oversee the construction of a new sanctuary. The church plant was located among large downtown buildings without a residential community within sight. I was slow to gain a vision for what the Lord wanted us to become, however, and pretty soon was fighting for my life.

As with most congregations, the members were salt of the earth. But some of the lay leadership had their own agendas, and a conservative pastor was not part of it.

The list of “what I wish I had done differently” in that pastorate would be a lengthy one. However, from the vantage point of over 20 years, I wish I had brought in an associate pastor to handle the day to day administration–which was killing me–thus freeing me for the two things I always did best and enjoyed most about pastoring: preaching and pastoral care.

I look back and think about those days occasionally, but what’s done is done. I no longer beat myself up over it. However, when I hear friends say they would not change a thing about their ministry, I think, “You never served where I did!” I would change a hundred things.

From 1990 to 2004, my final pastorate was the First Baptist Church of Kenner, Louisiana, a part of metropolitan New Orleans. We went from one of the newest, cleanest cities in America, Charlotte, to the exact opposite, New Orleans. The initial effect was rather brutal and took a lot of adjusting.

The Kenner church had experienced a split two years before we arrived. Half the congregation was left to carry on, and saddled with several million dollars in debt. Most in the congregation felt traumatized by the split and, as their new pastor, I was feeling beat up by my recent experience. On paper, that would appear to be a perfect recipe for a time of healing for all parties. It was not to be.

Members with unresolved anger and undealt-with guilt now turned their focus on the new pastor. Suddenly, I was the bad guy. Instead of facing it and dealing with their opposition, I ignored it and went on. I was tired of conflict and wanted no more of it. It was not until the summer of my 7th year–almost exactly at the halfway point of my ministry–that I confronted them and drew a line in the sand. From that moment on, the church began to get well. The last 7 years of this ministry were wonderful.

Clearly, I wish I had been strong from the first. I wish I had had the courage to deal with the spiritual problems that were destroying the church’s foundation and undermining all our efforts to serve the Lord.

I wish I had not been fearful or timid.

In high school, Mr. Whitson, our agriculture teacher, was making a point of some kind and ended by saying, “Well, live and learn.”

From the back of the room came the voice of a classmate. “Yep, then die and forget it all.” We laughed.

Another line goes like this: “Too late smart and too soon dead.”

When I became director of missions for the 135 Baptist churches and missions of metro New Orleans in 2004, it soon became apparent that the Lord was using the pastorates in my history as preparation for helping our pastors and churches. “God does not like to waste suffering,” we hear, and it’s true. Everything serves as grist for His mill.

One final question: Looking back at all these churches and nearly 50 years of ministry, what “wishes” loom larger than all the others?

1) To have secured an associate to handle the day-to-day administration so I could preach and pastor. This would have been a good thing in any of my churches. I’m so glad my successor at Kenner, Mike Miller, has such a helper in Danny Moore.

2) To have constantly sought the Lord’s vision for my church so I could preach and pastor with specific purpose and direction.

Regardless how all this reads, as I approach my 70th birthday, I’m not looking back. The Lord has blessed me with health and a reasonable supply of energy and invitations from churches keep arriving, so I’m going forward. Every day of my life, I ask the Lord the best prayer I know: “Father, what will you have me to do?”

The best sermon of my life is the next one. The best revival I ever led is the one scheduled to begin next Thursday in Alabama. The best article I ever wrote is the one I’ll pen tomorrow.

Tomorrow is also the day the Lord hath made. I plan to rejoice in it, too.