The apostle Paul encourages us "In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one" (Eph 6:16). Oh that the flaming darts were extinguished more often in the Body of Christ!
Not unlike any ordinary pastor, I have been working as a fire fighter this week, as the enemy lobs his darts toward the precious Bride of Jesus Christ. Some of the fires have been relatively small, yet one required a time of fasting and prayer before the conflict was settled. It seems so odd to have quarrels and divisions in the Body of Christ, but I know from reading through the New Testament it is to be expected.
I am writing this post just to remind us all that we face conflict, struggle, and spiritual attack. So often we can feel alone and isolated when facing such trials, yet we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.
Pastors, may God build your faith and enable you to extinguish the flaming darts of the evil one. May God remind you of His steadfast love and unending mercies.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Leaving Limbs
Parts of your physical body don't just disappear. They can't decide to leave the body...even if they had a mind to. They can stop working. They can become paralyzed. They can die of gangrene. They can be severed in an accident or surgically removed. But they can't decide to leave.
And even if they could leave your body, they can't physically join another body. But suppose it's possible. Suppose your thumb did decide to leave your body and took the four fingers of your right hand along, too. Yes, there is blood when it happens even though there was no forced trauma.
"What are you doing?" you ask in shock. "Where are you going? Why are you leaving?"
"We feel that we are no longer of use to this body," the thumb declares. "We are going to join another body."
"But why?"
"We just feel that we are finished here."
"But why? Doesn't the other body already have thumbs and fingers?"
"Yes, the other body already has thumbs and fingers - the best we've seen - that's why we're going there. They are doing the most extraordinary things and they've made room for us."
You are in pain. "I don't understand. If you leave our body for that other body, you're leaving us without a thumb and four fingers! You are hurting the rest of the body."
"Yes," thumb sympathizes, "but another thumb and fingers will come along to take our place."
"Can you please tell me what we have done that you should leave?"
"Can't we leave for no reason?" he replies. "Our Instinct tell us we are done here, are you arguing with our Instinct? We feel our Instinct leading us to this other body. It's our Instinct, I tell you."
You don't know what to say. Thumb continues, "Look, this was a very hard decision for us to make, the four fingers and I. If we were hurt or angry with the body then this decision would be easy. But it wasn't easy. It was very hard."
Finally you manage to say, "I'm disappointed. I'm saddened. I'm saddened for the rest of the body."
"I understand this is disappointing news, but can't you be glad for us? We are following our Instinct after all. The four fingers and I are going to be so happy with this other body and all the other thumbs and fingers, there are scores of them!"
And so the thumb and the four fingers on your right hand leave your body. You never hear how they managed with their new body. You wonder where new thumbs and fingers are going to come from, you aren't a starfish!
And even if they could leave your body, they can't physically join another body. But suppose it's possible. Suppose your thumb did decide to leave your body and took the four fingers of your right hand along, too. Yes, there is blood when it happens even though there was no forced trauma.
"What are you doing?" you ask in shock. "Where are you going? Why are you leaving?"
"We feel that we are no longer of use to this body," the thumb declares. "We are going to join another body."
"But why?"
"We just feel that we are finished here."
"But why? Doesn't the other body already have thumbs and fingers?"
"Yes, the other body already has thumbs and fingers - the best we've seen - that's why we're going there. They are doing the most extraordinary things and they've made room for us."
You are in pain. "I don't understand. If you leave our body for that other body, you're leaving us without a thumb and four fingers! You are hurting the rest of the body."
"Yes," thumb sympathizes, "but another thumb and fingers will come along to take our place."
"Can you please tell me what we have done that you should leave?"
"Can't we leave for no reason?" he replies. "Our Instinct tell us we are done here, are you arguing with our Instinct? We feel our Instinct leading us to this other body. It's our Instinct, I tell you."
You don't know what to say. Thumb continues, "Look, this was a very hard decision for us to make, the four fingers and I. If we were hurt or angry with the body then this decision would be easy. But it wasn't easy. It was very hard."
Finally you manage to say, "I'm disappointed. I'm saddened. I'm saddened for the rest of the body."
"I understand this is disappointing news, but can't you be glad for us? We are following our Instinct after all. The four fingers and I are going to be so happy with this other body and all the other thumbs and fingers, there are scores of them!"
And so the thumb and the four fingers on your right hand leave your body. You never hear how they managed with their new body. You wonder where new thumbs and fingers are going to come from, you aren't a starfish!
"For the body does not consist of one member but of many...The eye cannot say to the hand, 'I have no need of you,' nor again the head to the feet, 'I have no need of you.'" (I Cor. 12:14, 21)
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Patience
The following quote from Mark Dever's little book, "What is a Healthy Church?" stood out to me:
"Will healthy churches grow in size? They often do, because they present an attractive witness to the gospel. But we should not assume they must. Sometimes God has other purposes, such as calling his people to patience." (pg. 100)Patience. When you are faithful to your calling as a pastor and your church isn't experiencing numerical growth, God is calling you to patience. When you are discouraged because needed changes aren't happening quickly enough, God is calling you to patience.
"God is working for eternity, and He has been working from eternity. He's not in a hurry, and we shouldn't be either." ("The Deliberate Church, pg. 39)
Sunday, May 10, 2009
A Mother's Day Realization
I have always considered Easter and Mothers' Day as world's apart. I've always leaned toward a minimalist approach to Mothers' Day. Personally, I would be fine without any special recognition of mothers during the service. (Not to mimize the importance of mothers!) Now I'm questioning that.
Of course, Easter and Mothers' Day are world's apart in terms of theological significance, but today I realized this: At least as many people were in attendance this morning at my church as on Easter Sunday...maybe more. Family members came for "mom's sake" eventhough it wasn't Easter or Christmas!
So, this has made me question my minimalist approach to Mothers' Day. What if a little extra attention went into this holiday observance during the service? What if our members, knowing mothers would be honored in a special way, made extra effort to invite (insist on) their family? What if just as much prayer went into this service as Easter?
This is something to consider. While the significance of Mothers Day may not hold a candle to the signficance of Resurrection Sunday, what God is doing providentially in the lives of people may be exactly the same.
Of course, Easter and Mothers' Day are world's apart in terms of theological significance, but today I realized this: At least as many people were in attendance this morning at my church as on Easter Sunday...maybe more. Family members came for "mom's sake" eventhough it wasn't Easter or Christmas!
So, this has made me question my minimalist approach to Mothers' Day. What if a little extra attention went into this holiday observance during the service? What if our members, knowing mothers would be honored in a special way, made extra effort to invite (insist on) their family? What if just as much prayer went into this service as Easter?
This is something to consider. While the significance of Mothers Day may not hold a candle to the signficance of Resurrection Sunday, what God is doing providentially in the lives of people may be exactly the same.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Praying for preaching
Mike Fabarez's "Preaching that Changes Lives" is an excellent reminder to preach with life-change in mind. For life-change to take place, prayer during the preparation, during the delivery, and after the sermon is over is essential.
"Plenty of naive anticipation has been dashed before noon on Sunday when a young preacher discovers that shiny accessories are no substitute for the power required to drive any sermon into the hearts and lives of our hearers. Without prayer, our sermons may look good on paper - they may even sound good in the pulpit - but you can be that they will never leave the church parking lot." (pg. 69)
1. Pray for the crafting of the sermon.
"Plenty of naive anticipation has been dashed before noon on Sunday when a young preacher discovers that shiny accessories are no substitute for the power required to drive any sermon into the hearts and lives of our hearers. Without prayer, our sermons may look good on paper - they may even sound good in the pulpit - but you can be that they will never leave the church parking lot." (pg. 69)
1. Pray for the crafting of the sermon.
"Pray that the message you are preparing would be an evident part of your own life. Pray for the protection of your sermon preparation time. Pray that you will be given grace and illumination to rightly divide His Word. Pray that the words you choose to frame your outline would be effective tools for the Holy Spirit to employ. Pray that you would have insight into the needs of your audience as they relate to the sermon2. Pray for the delivery of the sermon.
you are preparing."
"Pray that people will attend the preaching event. Pray that your audience willl arrive in the right frame of mind. Pray that God will guard against preaching distractions. Pray for clarity in your vocabulary. Pray that God will give your audience understanding. Ask God for the most effective and fruitful sermon you have ever preached."3. Pray for the response to the sermon.
"Pray that people will put the sermon into practice. Pray that the sermon will not be compartmentalized. Pray that the application of the sermon will be contagious. Prayer that the sermon itself will be repeatedly 'delivered'."
Cultivating Gravity & Gladness in Preaching
John Piper's "The Supremacy of God in Preaching" is a compelling call to preach for God's glory. In it Piper offers these seven practical suggestions for cultivating gravity and gladness in preaching. (Note how different this council might be from popular, image-driven counsel, not to mention the very idea of cultivating gravity.)
1. Strive for practical, earnest, glad-hearted holiness in every area of your life. You can't be someone in the pulpit you aren't during the week.
2. Make your life - especially the life of your study - a life of constant communion with God in prayer. The aroma of God will not linger on a person who does not linger in the presence of God. Fruitful study and fervent prayer live and die together.
3. Read books written by those who bleed Bible when you prick them and who are blood-earnest about the truths they discuss.
4. Draw your mind often to the contemplation of death. Death and sickness have an amazing way of blowing the haze of triviality out of life and replacing it with the wisdom of gravity and gladness in the hope of resurrection of joy.
5. Consider the biblical teaching that as a preacher you will be judged with greater strictness. (James 3:1; Hebrews 13:17)
6. Consider the example of Jesus. He was as kind and tender and gentle as a righteous man could be...He never preached a careless sermon, and there is no record of a careless word.
7. Strive with all your strength to know God and to humble yourself under his mighty hand. (I Peter 5:6)
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Deeper preaching
Someone told me they wanted "deeper" preaching. So here are four reasons why I don't preach deeper than I do:
1. One person's definition of "deeper" is another person's definition of "drowning." There is a spectrum of listeners in the congregation. There are people who don't know the books of their Bible, if they bring their Bibles. Just say the word "sanctification" and you have lost some. Others want a story or personal anecdote or more humor. A few want to know the Greek grammer behind the text - very few. If I were a swimming instructor, sure I could take everyone out to the middle of the ocean, but I wouldn't. I'm responsible for the novices as well as for those who think they are pros. Some think they're ready, others are scared of getting wet.
2. I thought I was already pushing the church's limit. Right now I'm on the last month of an eight-month, verse by verse journey through Philippians. To my knowledge, no one in the church's past has preached this long on a book of the Bible, and I've gone faster than I originally planned. I waited almost a year before I started because I knew it would be a stretch for many. Philippians has brought us face to face with one doctrinal truth after another. Sometimes defining a Greek word or giving some first-century context has been necessary. Stories aren't my forte and I preach for 45 minutes, so surely I am going somewhat deep.
3. I'm not seasoned or disciplined enough to go deeper. When I think of going "deeper" I think of pulling out all the truths and applications that lie within God's Word. There are wondrous riches there if we would linger longer over the text and the practical relevance to our lives is endless. The human heart is complex and cherished idols and thought-patterns are hard to overcome. I truly want to be a better surgeon (physician of the soul) than I am but I feel like I'm just beginning my pastoral ministry and I'm too scattered yet to meditate long over the Word and over the needs of the people as I should. I hope I continue to grow and mature and become the preacher my people need.
4. A friend, Wayne in fact, is fond of challenging the notion of going "deeper." He likens it to kneeling at the edge of a beautiful, clear, deep mountain lake. The peaks and clouds reflect on the surface. If you leave the shore to go "deep" you won't be able to breathe, he says, it is a foreign environment down there. But if you linger at the water's edge, looking intently and are faithfully attentive there, God will faithfully bring up from the depths what you need to see and hear and know. He says going "deeper" is often an excuse for ignoring and disobeying what we already see plainly. Until we are obeying what we already know, says Wayne, what is the benefit of more depth? I think Wayne is on to something.
Being told your preaching isn't deep enough or relevant enough or inspiring enough or humorous enough or whatever can be deflating. This is why ordinary pastors must live upon the cross and seek their praise and approval from God. It could be that God is using comments like that to prevent inflated views of ourselves. It works.
1. One person's definition of "deeper" is another person's definition of "drowning." There is a spectrum of listeners in the congregation. There are people who don't know the books of their Bible, if they bring their Bibles. Just say the word "sanctification" and you have lost some. Others want a story or personal anecdote or more humor. A few want to know the Greek grammer behind the text - very few. If I were a swimming instructor, sure I could take everyone out to the middle of the ocean, but I wouldn't. I'm responsible for the novices as well as for those who think they are pros. Some think they're ready, others are scared of getting wet.
2. I thought I was already pushing the church's limit. Right now I'm on the last month of an eight-month, verse by verse journey through Philippians. To my knowledge, no one in the church's past has preached this long on a book of the Bible, and I've gone faster than I originally planned. I waited almost a year before I started because I knew it would be a stretch for many. Philippians has brought us face to face with one doctrinal truth after another. Sometimes defining a Greek word or giving some first-century context has been necessary. Stories aren't my forte and I preach for 45 minutes, so surely I am going somewhat deep.
3. I'm not seasoned or disciplined enough to go deeper. When I think of going "deeper" I think of pulling out all the truths and applications that lie within God's Word. There are wondrous riches there if we would linger longer over the text and the practical relevance to our lives is endless. The human heart is complex and cherished idols and thought-patterns are hard to overcome. I truly want to be a better surgeon (physician of the soul) than I am but I feel like I'm just beginning my pastoral ministry and I'm too scattered yet to meditate long over the Word and over the needs of the people as I should. I hope I continue to grow and mature and become the preacher my people need.
4. A friend, Wayne in fact, is fond of challenging the notion of going "deeper." He likens it to kneeling at the edge of a beautiful, clear, deep mountain lake. The peaks and clouds reflect on the surface. If you leave the shore to go "deep" you won't be able to breathe, he says, it is a foreign environment down there. But if you linger at the water's edge, looking intently and are faithfully attentive there, God will faithfully bring up from the depths what you need to see and hear and know. He says going "deeper" is often an excuse for ignoring and disobeying what we already see plainly. Until we are obeying what we already know, says Wayne, what is the benefit of more depth? I think Wayne is on to something.
Being told your preaching isn't deep enough or relevant enough or inspiring enough or humorous enough or whatever can be deflating. This is why ordinary pastors must live upon the cross and seek their praise and approval from God. It could be that God is using comments like that to prevent inflated views of ourselves. It works.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Correcting suspicion
A year ago about this time someone came into my office with this allegation: "Someone is trying to run us out of the church."
"What?" I was shocked. "How do you know?"
"We've noticed that when we move seats, this person moves, too. They sit nearby. They talk to the people we've just greeted during the welcome."
"But, how do you know they want to run you out of the church?"
"Because of their behavior. It's like they have to watch us. They are making us feel uncomfortable and we may just have to leave."
Ever since this little encounter I've been struck how often and how quickly false assumptions are made about the motives and intentions of other people. I hear them all the time. I think it is probably one of the most common, subtly destructive forces in the body of Christ. Divisions start here and even the slighest offense is multipied.
It happens like this: "Joe" doesn't understand the behavior of "Rick". Joe draws his own fanciful conclusions which seem very logical to him. He believes his conclusions. He thinks he has the truth. Then everything Rick subsequently does is filtered through Joe's conclusions and appears to validate them. Joe starts acting on these assumptions of his and maybe even sharing them with others. The little mustard seed of suspicion he allowed to be planted in his heart begins to grow and bloom and bear awful fruit.
Aside from preaching the Word, pastors must model practicing the Word. First, pastors must model love and refuse to cultivate suspicions about others. We are just as prone to assume false truths as anyone else. We may share with our church our assumptions about the President or share privately with our wives assumptions about a church leader. When we see what we're doing, we should be quick to acknowledge them as sin and stop it in its tracks. If we shared a false assumption in public, maybe we should apologize in public, too.
Second, pastors must model loving correction. Oh boy. This is the unspoken bane of ministry: correcting people. But it must be done - lovingly, gently, respectfully, humbly - but still done, and unapologetically. After we take the log out of our own eye, then we are charged with looking after one another spiritually. We're not the only ones with this charge, but we ought to be models of it. If assumptions are shared in our hearing we should address them. If shared privately, then privately. If shared publically, then publically.
Lord willing, our bane could be the other person's blessing.
The goal is to cultivate an atmosphere of love and self-evaluation in the church. Relationships that last are tested. Authentic community goes deep. Real, Biblical friendships are forged by talking and confessing to one another, not by assuming and avoiding. How can members worship God truly when they are thinking of one another falsely? It can't happen.
What happened in the situation I recounted at the beginning? I questioned their assumptions. I didn't write them off or laugh at them, I just challenged them. I also told them some other just-as-likely conclusions that could be made. I encouraged them to find out the truth by talking to this individual. That's the last I heard of it.
But I hear other assumptions made among brothers and sisters in Christ and I'm certain that's not even half of what people are thinking. Because suspicion breeds suspicion, a pastor's hands are always full.
"What?" I was shocked. "How do you know?"
"We've noticed that when we move seats, this person moves, too. They sit nearby. They talk to the people we've just greeted during the welcome."
"But, how do you know they want to run you out of the church?"
"Because of their behavior. It's like they have to watch us. They are making us feel uncomfortable and we may just have to leave."
Ever since this little encounter I've been struck how often and how quickly false assumptions are made about the motives and intentions of other people. I hear them all the time. I think it is probably one of the most common, subtly destructive forces in the body of Christ. Divisions start here and even the slighest offense is multipied.
It happens like this: "Joe" doesn't understand the behavior of "Rick". Joe draws his own fanciful conclusions which seem very logical to him. He believes his conclusions. He thinks he has the truth. Then everything Rick subsequently does is filtered through Joe's conclusions and appears to validate them. Joe starts acting on these assumptions of his and maybe even sharing them with others. The little mustard seed of suspicion he allowed to be planted in his heart begins to grow and bloom and bear awful fruit.
Why didn't Rick say "hi" when I came into the room? Come to think of it, he didn't even look at me. What did I do? Is it because I'm not a professional like him? He thinks he is so superior to everyone. Jerk.How does a pastor combat unproven suspicions within the church, especially when they often go unsaid. Obviously, we preach the Word of God which reminds us over and over to love one another as Jesus loved us. Part of loving one another is believing the best about a person. Assuming the worst before we know the facts isn't love, it's sin. "Love believes all things...hopes all things" (I Cor. 13:7).
Aside from preaching the Word, pastors must model practicing the Word. First, pastors must model love and refuse to cultivate suspicions about others. We are just as prone to assume false truths as anyone else. We may share with our church our assumptions about the President or share privately with our wives assumptions about a church leader. When we see what we're doing, we should be quick to acknowledge them as sin and stop it in its tracks. If we shared a false assumption in public, maybe we should apologize in public, too.
Second, pastors must model loving correction. Oh boy. This is the unspoken bane of ministry: correcting people. But it must be done - lovingly, gently, respectfully, humbly - but still done, and unapologetically. After we take the log out of our own eye, then we are charged with looking after one another spiritually. We're not the only ones with this charge, but we ought to be models of it. If assumptions are shared in our hearing we should address them. If shared privately, then privately. If shared publically, then publically.
Lord willing, our bane could be the other person's blessing.
The goal is to cultivate an atmosphere of love and self-evaluation in the church. Relationships that last are tested. Authentic community goes deep. Real, Biblical friendships are forged by talking and confessing to one another, not by assuming and avoiding. How can members worship God truly when they are thinking of one another falsely? It can't happen.
What happened in the situation I recounted at the beginning? I questioned their assumptions. I didn't write them off or laugh at them, I just challenged them. I also told them some other just-as-likely conclusions that could be made. I encouraged them to find out the truth by talking to this individual. That's the last I heard of it.
But I hear other assumptions made among brothers and sisters in Christ and I'm certain that's not even half of what people are thinking. Because suspicion breeds suspicion, a pastor's hands are always full.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Speaking of brimstone
This is completely random, but have you ever seen a pastor kneeling all over his yard lighting rodent smoke bombs to eradicate moles and their young? These bombs have a three inch fuse and you have five seconds to insert them into the tunnel and cover them up before they ignite.
There are so many moles destroying my lawn that I don't know if they are working yet. Surely they are better than the road flares I used at first, but twelve may not be enough. Another dozen may do the trick.
Needless to say I am finding a little guilty pleasure in this.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Fire and brimstone
"Do you preach fire and brimstone?" asked one of the senior members at church.
"What do you mean?" I replied. Was he asking if I preached about fire and brimestone of if I preached in a particular style called "fire and brimstone preaching"?
He clarified himself. "You know, do you preach on the consequences of sin?"
"Yes," I said, "I haven't preached a whole sermon on hell, but I I've talked about Hell as an eternal, literal place for those who reject Christ. I've probably said more about the wrath and condemnation sinners are under now rather than just the judgment to come. But, yes, I preach on the consequences of sin."
This conversation took place over the phone so I couldn't read his face. "Why do you ask?"
"I don't remember hearing you preach about Hell," he said.
That was basically the end of the discussion. Something about the way he asked made me think he was genuinely concerned I was avoiding the topic of Hell. I don't think that I have. Again, I haven't preached a specific sermon on Hell, but I don't think I've neglected the subject.
Regardless of his motives or concern or lack of memory, it did make me think about my preaching. Do I unconsciously shy away from talking about Hell? Do I somewhere deep down doubt it's existence or think it is less horrifying than it really is? Have I made the consequences of unbelief sufficiently clear? While we may not be "fire and brimstone preachers", pastors must warn our hearers of Hell and plead for their escape.
"What do you mean?" I replied. Was he asking if I preached about fire and brimestone of if I preached in a particular style called "fire and brimstone preaching"?
He clarified himself. "You know, do you preach on the consequences of sin?"
"Yes," I said, "I haven't preached a whole sermon on hell, but I I've talked about Hell as an eternal, literal place for those who reject Christ. I've probably said more about the wrath and condemnation sinners are under now rather than just the judgment to come. But, yes, I preach on the consequences of sin."
This conversation took place over the phone so I couldn't read his face. "Why do you ask?"
"I don't remember hearing you preach about Hell," he said.
That was basically the end of the discussion. Something about the way he asked made me think he was genuinely concerned I was avoiding the topic of Hell. I don't think that I have. Again, I haven't preached a specific sermon on Hell, but I don't think I've neglected the subject.
Regardless of his motives or concern or lack of memory, it did make me think about my preaching. Do I unconsciously shy away from talking about Hell? Do I somewhere deep down doubt it's existence or think it is less horrifying than it really is? Have I made the consequences of unbelief sufficiently clear? While we may not be "fire and brimstone preachers", pastors must warn our hearers of Hell and plead for their escape.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
A ministry bright-spot
In the midst of many dissatisfying and perplexing areas of pastoral ministry, there is one bright-spot where I find the most enjoyment.
Last summer a small group of fathers-of-young-children began meeting late on Wednesday evenings. It was born out of a desire for friendship as much as a responsibility for discipleship. We read and discussed Steve Farrar's book, "PointMan, How a Man Should Lead His Family." I was pleased with everyone's participation and desire for such a ministry.
When the new school year rolled around we launched into a new book, "Knowing God," by J.I. Packer. I knew this would be a challenge for some of our men. Packer doesn't write in a popular style like Farrar. Two men became too busy to attend the group but two others took their places. What a joy it was to discuss theological truths with these men and wrestle over the application to our lives as husbands, dads, and employees.
Now that Spring is here and "Knowing God" is complete, our group has begun, "The Love Dare," which comes from the movie, Fireproof. There are more men now. Books addressing marriage attract more interest than books on, say, the sovereignty of God. No one seems afraid of sharing. Last night one man, someone who does not go to our church, shared openly about the state of his marriage and we prayed for him specifically.
This has been a ministry bright-spot over the last year. It is late enough not to interfere with family time. It doesn't require any special preparation from me other than reading my chapters and praying. I am getting to know these men more personally and they are getting to know me. Our conversation is casual and transparent. Friendships are being forged.
I don't know what God has in store for this men's group. My hope is that the time spent reading and discussing and praying together will bear fruit in the church, in families, in the work place, and in men's devotional lives.
Last summer a small group of fathers-of-young-children began meeting late on Wednesday evenings. It was born out of a desire for friendship as much as a responsibility for discipleship. We read and discussed Steve Farrar's book, "PointMan, How a Man Should Lead His Family." I was pleased with everyone's participation and desire for such a ministry.
When the new school year rolled around we launched into a new book, "Knowing God," by J.I. Packer. I knew this would be a challenge for some of our men. Packer doesn't write in a popular style like Farrar. Two men became too busy to attend the group but two others took their places. What a joy it was to discuss theological truths with these men and wrestle over the application to our lives as husbands, dads, and employees.
Now that Spring is here and "Knowing God" is complete, our group has begun, "The Love Dare," which comes from the movie, Fireproof. There are more men now. Books addressing marriage attract more interest than books on, say, the sovereignty of God. No one seems afraid of sharing. Last night one man, someone who does not go to our church, shared openly about the state of his marriage and we prayed for him specifically.
This has been a ministry bright-spot over the last year. It is late enough not to interfere with family time. It doesn't require any special preparation from me other than reading my chapters and praying. I am getting to know these men more personally and they are getting to know me. Our conversation is casual and transparent. Friendships are being forged.
I don't know what God has in store for this men's group. My hope is that the time spent reading and discussing and praying together will bear fruit in the church, in families, in the work place, and in men's devotional lives.
Time and Guilt
As a pastor, I find myself torn between balancing my time in several areas: study, visitation, meetings, community involvement, and family. When I evaluate the amount of time I spend in each of these areas, I inevitably feel like I have failed. If I studied more, the message would have been better; if I would have made that visit, it would have made a difference; if I didn't have so many meetings and events to attend, my family life would be so much better. The cycle repeats week-in and week-out. Seeking to prioritize the time I spend in each area becomes laborious and overwhelming as well.
I cannot accomplish all the tasks that I desire to do, let alone all the tasks that well meaning and loving congregants desire me to do. I find myself spending fewer nights with my family, and feeling guilty about both ministry and family.
How do I respond to this guilt?
The Word of God reminds me that I am to find my joy in Him. I am not a slave to the tyranny of unrealistic expectations (either mine, or my congregation's). I must remind myself that I am to love God, love my family, and love His church. In doing these things, I find joy and do good.
I am an ordinary pastor. Ordinary means I don't always meet the expectations of others in my management of time, but ordinary means I don't have to feel guilty.
I cannot accomplish all the tasks that I desire to do, let alone all the tasks that well meaning and loving congregants desire me to do. I find myself spending fewer nights with my family, and feeling guilty about both ministry and family.
How do I respond to this guilt?
What gain has the worker from his toil? . . . I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live. - Solomon (Ecc 3:9,12)
The Word of God reminds me that I am to find my joy in Him. I am not a slave to the tyranny of unrealistic expectations (either mine, or my congregation's). I must remind myself that I am to love God, love my family, and love His church. In doing these things, I find joy and do good.
I am an ordinary pastor. Ordinary means I don't always meet the expectations of others in my management of time, but ordinary means I don't have to feel guilty.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Shaking free of praise
On my last trip to the book store at the Desiring God Pastor's Conference I found this paperback by Erwin Lutzer called, "Pastor to Pastor, Tackling the Problems of Ministry." I started it immediately and recommend it to ordinary pastors.
Chapter two tackled a congregation's expectations. A few statements really spoke to me. Actually, they spoke about me.
Chapter two tackled a congregation's expectations. A few statements really spoke to me. Actually, they spoke about me.
Jesus, writes Lutzer, was free from man's opinions about Him. He was surrendered to His Heavenly Father, secure, and "free from actions motivated by a desire for human praise." To be like Him, Lutzer offers this counsel:"If we are self-conscious, always wondering how well we are liked, we'll soon be slaves to the pulse of our popularity."
"When we're overly sensitive to what others think, we'll also live with guilt - the nagging feeling that we could be doing more."
"The desire for human praise and the faith to minister cancel each other - seek the one and the other eludes you.""If we are especially sensitive, if we cannot tolerate differences of opinion, and if we refuse to learn from criticism, we're still clinging to our reputation."
- Don't let people push you into their mold.
- Profit from criticism.
- Don't be afraid to let your humanity show.
- Don't see the success of another as a threat to your ministry.
Men's praise, I hate to admit, is one of my idols. I know it and I'm fighting it. I'm praying for the grace to finally shake free of caring about what others think of me or say about me.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Pastors can't always choose
Pastors have preferences like everyone else. Take church music for example, one of the most opinionated subjects in modern Christianity.
Here's some of my thoughts why:
Pastors have to think about the whole church body, not just themselves. We are shepherds after all, and the needs of the flock come before our own wants. I don't mean to say people's preferences come before our preferences. I mean people come before our preferences. People with varying, sometimes divergent, opinions go to my church. There is no way in the world I can please them all or throw their perspective out the door. As a pastor I have to think about them all, not just a few. Somehow pastors have to strive for a God-glorifying balance, a median.
Also, pastors have to take what they have and gratefully use it as best as they can. Small churches don't have the options larger churches have. You can only do musically what your people are capable of. You can only employ the people and purchase the equipment you have the budget for. You have to nuture and mentor both the under-trained and the immature.
And, if pastors don't like something about the music or other aspect of the ministry, they can't leave to find what they like somewhere else. Of all the people in America, only pastors can't leave over their preferences. Well, they can but then they wouldn't be good shepherds. No, pastors must have tremendous patience, a willingness to wait on God and on their preferences.
Sometimes I envy the person who can just pick and choose their church, but not for long. I don't think they have the right perspective. Soon they'll be looking again. Church is not the sum-total of our preferences. It is much more. Heaven knows how much more. What about God's preferences anyway? Now, that's a good question.
I for one really enjoy the sound of an acoustic guitar and wouldn't mind a guitar-led worship service, so long as the guitarist is really trained in both music and leading congregational singing. I like the piano, but I would prefer additional acoustic instruments for a richer sound.So those are some of my opinions about church music. They are my preferences and I feel like I can justify them. I'm also certain there is a church somewhere within driving distance that fits my preferences, at least initially. But, unlike most Christians in America, I can't choose to go to that church. When it comes to our own preferences, pastors can't always choose what they want.
I appreciate solos and other so-called "specials", but I would rather sing and hear the voices of the congregation singing all around me. I don't want to sing songs that just show-case the talents of the musicians or singers, but songs that invite everyone's involvement. That means it can't be so loud that the music drowns out the congregation.
I don't need a choir every Sunday, a praise team or a single leader fits me just fine. And I don't mind if the praise leaders are expressive (raised hands, spontaneous praises) so long as they are considerate of others and aren't distracting to me, which is a very subjective thing to say.
I don't particularly care for old-time gospel music written in the 50's like you might here from Gaither. I wish they would rename that whole genre and preserve the term "gospel music" for actual gospel-saturated, cross-centered music.
I happen to like historic hymns of the faith and also many of the contemporary songs written for worship today, so I really want to sing a mixture of the best of both. I want to sing, "A Mighty Fortress is Our God" by Luther and "Your Grace is Enough" by Tomlin provided the songs flow and have substance.
I prefer less talking between songs, in fact, I don't need any transitional, explainational, introductory or devotional statements or stories during the singing. Sometimes it is truly helpful, but I would prefer a prayer or Scripture reading instead. At the very least, I like talking kept to a minimum.
I would rather the lights be up during a worship service. If I were at a concert or watching a movie or listening to an entertainer, then by all means lower the lights, but I don't need the lights lowered to make me feel more intimate with God. I want to know I am with the people of God. The only exception to this is if the meeting room dwarfs the congregation. In that case, I like the lights lowered to make the room feel less empty.
Here's some of my thoughts why:
Pastors have to think about the whole church body, not just themselves. We are shepherds after all, and the needs of the flock come before our own wants. I don't mean to say people's preferences come before our preferences. I mean people come before our preferences. People with varying, sometimes divergent, opinions go to my church. There is no way in the world I can please them all or throw their perspective out the door. As a pastor I have to think about them all, not just a few. Somehow pastors have to strive for a God-glorifying balance, a median.
Also, pastors have to take what they have and gratefully use it as best as they can. Small churches don't have the options larger churches have. You can only do musically what your people are capable of. You can only employ the people and purchase the equipment you have the budget for. You have to nuture and mentor both the under-trained and the immature.
And, if pastors don't like something about the music or other aspect of the ministry, they can't leave to find what they like somewhere else. Of all the people in America, only pastors can't leave over their preferences. Well, they can but then they wouldn't be good shepherds. No, pastors must have tremendous patience, a willingness to wait on God and on their preferences.
Sometimes I envy the person who can just pick and choose their church, but not for long. I don't think they have the right perspective. Soon they'll be looking again. Church is not the sum-total of our preferences. It is much more. Heaven knows how much more. What about God's preferences anyway? Now, that's a good question.
Friday, April 24, 2009
O, for the wisdom of Solomon
I was faced with a conflict almost immediately after becoming a pastor. Two men in the church were pursuing the same part-time youth position. The committee in charge of filling the vacant role waited until the new pastor came on board to help with the decision.
It wasn't easy. Both men were loved in the congregation. Both men were passionate about filling this position. Both men were aware the other had applied. Even though I was new, I had already come to love and appreciate these men, too.
It couldn't be avoided. A decision had to be made. One did appear more qualified than the other, in fact, none of the other applicants held a candle to his experience or education. We prayed. We discussed. We squirmed. Then we decided what we felt was in the best interests of the students. And it went down-hill from there.
By the time everything was said and done, both of these beloved men and their families left the church, other families left the church, and tensions between church members and deacons and committee members were high. Some long-time relationships were severed. People looked to me to "fix" things and "lead" and do the "right" thing, but I was bewildered by then and totally taken aback and grieving.
The story of Joseph kept me alive as I focused on God's sovereignty. Sin played a part and Satan had a hand in it, but to this day I feel that, ultimately, it was God who had frustrated the process for some purpose known only to Him. Not everyone is comfortable with a statement like that, but I have that big of view of God.
I wanted to run from the scenario unfolding before my eyes, but I thought, "shepherd's don't run." Besides, I had burned my ships. There was no going back. I was committed.
Lots and lots of lessons came from this conflict. I hope I've taken them to heart. As for what I would do differently if given the chance? Well, hindsight is always 20/20. Looking back, I think the right decision at the beginning would have been to sit both of these men down together, explain the delima, and, appealing to them in love, choose neither men for the position.
I don't know that the end result would have been very much different. But at least then I wouldn't have felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. I couldn't be accused of choosing one over the other. A host of bad feelings could have been avoided. Who knows, really. A year has gone by and I still dwell on the "if only's" and "woulda-shoulda-coulda's."
And here's the thing, there are countless decisions still to be made in the pastorate. Any one of them could make or break a ministry, a vision, a relationship, a pastor. Praise God for His sovereign grace in the life of a church, redeeming men and their mistakes.
It wasn't easy. Both men were loved in the congregation. Both men were passionate about filling this position. Both men were aware the other had applied. Even though I was new, I had already come to love and appreciate these men, too.
It couldn't be avoided. A decision had to be made. One did appear more qualified than the other, in fact, none of the other applicants held a candle to his experience or education. We prayed. We discussed. We squirmed. Then we decided what we felt was in the best interests of the students. And it went down-hill from there.
By the time everything was said and done, both of these beloved men and their families left the church, other families left the church, and tensions between church members and deacons and committee members were high. Some long-time relationships were severed. People looked to me to "fix" things and "lead" and do the "right" thing, but I was bewildered by then and totally taken aback and grieving.
The story of Joseph kept me alive as I focused on God's sovereignty. Sin played a part and Satan had a hand in it, but to this day I feel that, ultimately, it was God who had frustrated the process for some purpose known only to Him. Not everyone is comfortable with a statement like that, but I have that big of view of God.
I wanted to run from the scenario unfolding before my eyes, but I thought, "shepherd's don't run." Besides, I had burned my ships. There was no going back. I was committed.
Lots and lots of lessons came from this conflict. I hope I've taken them to heart. As for what I would do differently if given the chance? Well, hindsight is always 20/20. Looking back, I think the right decision at the beginning would have been to sit both of these men down together, explain the delima, and, appealing to them in love, choose neither men for the position.
I don't know that the end result would have been very much different. But at least then I wouldn't have felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. I couldn't be accused of choosing one over the other. A host of bad feelings could have been avoided. Who knows, really. A year has gone by and I still dwell on the "if only's" and "woulda-shoulda-coulda's."
And here's the thing, there are countless decisions still to be made in the pastorate. Any one of them could make or break a ministry, a vision, a relationship, a pastor. Praise God for His sovereign grace in the life of a church, redeeming men and their mistakes.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
After-sermon-blues
I once thought after-sermon-blues were a sign of abnormality and that maybe I missed my calling. No one told me, "Even after your best preparation and your best delivery, you may feel like the worst preacher on the planet."
John Stott's admission freed me from lashing myself: "Seldom if ever do I leave the pulpit without a sense of partial failure, a mood of penitence, and a cry to God for forgiveness, and a resolve to look to him for grace to do better in the future."
Ahhh. So it's not abnormal. But what does a pastor do with those feelings of failure after he's preached his heart out? He takes them to the cross, where else? Here's D.A. Carson:
John Stott's admission freed me from lashing myself: "Seldom if ever do I leave the pulpit without a sense of partial failure, a mood of penitence, and a cry to God for forgiveness, and a resolve to look to him for grace to do better in the future."
Ahhh. So it's not abnormal. But what does a pastor do with those feelings of failure after he's preached his heart out? He takes them to the cross, where else? Here's D.A. Carson:
"It is rare for me to finish a sermon without feeling somewhat between slightly discouraged and moderately depressed that I have not preached with more unction, that I have not articulated these glorious truths more powerfully and with greater insight, and so forth. But I cannot allow that to drive me to despair; rather, it must drive me to a greater grasp of the simple and profound truth that we preach and visit and serve under the gospel of grace, and God accepts us because of his Son." - Memoirs of an Ordinary Pastor, pg. 92
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
What are pastors like?
I had the opportunity once to visit several missionaries in Bosnia and I asked them, "What do you wish people back home understood about missionaries?" One said immediately, "That we're not holy." She went on to explain that missionaries struggle with sin and temptation like everyone else.
We tend to forget that missionaries are ordinary people. We ought to highly esteem the missionary, but we mustn't exalt them. They have as much need of daily grace as any Christian. They get lonely. They doubt sometimes. They can be afraid. They can lose their tempers. They are gifted and called to the work, but they aren't super-Christians.
The same can be said of us pastors. Pastors may be gifted from the Lord for their work in the ministry but they are still ordinary men. We have the same temptations to sin as others do. We suffer the same trials others do. We are subject to the same feelings as others are. Pastors who pretend otherwise are, well, pretending.
I don't mean that pastors ought to be like everyone else. We ought to be examples to the flock. We ought to be leaders in service and worship and mission. But we should readily admit we are nothing except by grace. Behind any achievement in sanctification or sacrificial service or Spirit-filled sermon is an ordinary man.
God is most pleased to use ordinary men; just as He is most pleased to call ordinary people to salvation (See I Corinthians 1). He does not wish to share His glory. What is unordinary about pastors is they have a desire to serve the church in a capacity others do not and they have an empowering for this work others do not. But this comes from the Lord, not the pastor.
God is the extraordinary Pastor.
We tend to forget that missionaries are ordinary people. We ought to highly esteem the missionary, but we mustn't exalt them. They have as much need of daily grace as any Christian. They get lonely. They doubt sometimes. They can be afraid. They can lose their tempers. They are gifted and called to the work, but they aren't super-Christians.
The same can be said of us pastors. Pastors may be gifted from the Lord for their work in the ministry but they are still ordinary men. We have the same temptations to sin as others do. We suffer the same trials others do. We are subject to the same feelings as others are. Pastors who pretend otherwise are, well, pretending.
I don't mean that pastors ought to be like everyone else. We ought to be examples to the flock. We ought to be leaders in service and worship and mission. But we should readily admit we are nothing except by grace. Behind any achievement in sanctification or sacrificial service or Spirit-filled sermon is an ordinary man.
"The best of men are only men at their best. Patriarchs, prophets, and apostles, - martyrs, fathers, reformers, puritans, - all, all are sinners, who need a Saviour: holy, useful, honourable in their place, - but sinners after all." J.C. Ryle
God is most pleased to use ordinary men; just as He is most pleased to call ordinary people to salvation (See I Corinthians 1). He does not wish to share His glory. What is unordinary about pastors is they have a desire to serve the church in a capacity others do not and they have an empowering for this work others do not. But this comes from the Lord, not the pastor.
God is the extraordinary Pastor.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Timothy, fan the flame
So far at the Gospel Coalition, taking place in Chicago, Tim Keller preached on discerning, exposing, and destroying idols by the ministry of the gospel and John Piper preached on Paul's exhortation to Timothy, "Fan the flame of the gift of God" from II Timothy 1:1-12.
If I could I would sit at my computer for the rest of the evening and watch these key-note messages live on-line. I felt they were very good for me to hear, particularly Piper's, which seemed especially targeted to young, timid pastors who are discouraged by the difficulty and hardship of gospel ministry.
If I could I would sit at my computer for the rest of the evening and watch these key-note messages live on-line. I felt they were very good for me to hear, particularly Piper's, which seemed especially targeted to young, timid pastors who are discouraged by the difficulty and hardship of gospel ministry.
"If you are in the ministry for an easy, secure, comfortable...life, get out of the ministry! Its a hard road to follow Jesus."I must do what it takes to keep faning the white-hot flame of the gift of God, which is the unashamed courage to speak openly of Christ and willingly suffer for the gospel. Doing what it takes means keep listening to and receiving the Word of God which is God's means of grace to me as a pastor.
"I commend you to God and to the Word of His grace which is able to build you up..." (Acts 20:32)
Sunday, April 19, 2009
How was church Sunday?
It is common for a friend to ask, "How was church on Sunday?" That's a loaded question for a pastor, but no one is expecting a full report. Something like, "It was a good morning," or "It was an encouraging service," usually does just fine.
Here is a snap-shot of church this past Sunday morning followed by my evaluation.
It was raining and windy when I arrived at church at 9:00am. My first thoughts were, "I hope the weather doesn't keep anyone from coming today, especially the Sunday after Easter." I unlocked the doors, turned on all the lights, checked the thermostats, and sprayed some air freshner in the foyer which always seems necessary on Sunday mornings for some reason. I pray for the morning as I do these things.
On this particular day a band of local college students lead the music. The stage with their instruments and mics was prepared the night before. I made sure Media Shout with lyrics and sermon slides was ready on the sanctuary computer. They arrived at 9:30 to rehearse before the service. As usual they were in jeans, their shirts were untucked, and they were just happy to be serving the Lord.
Our members began arriving at that time and making their way to Sunday School. They were smiling even though the wind pushed them rudely through the doors. I learned our Sunday School Director wouldn't be there due to sickness, again. Minutes later I saw that there wouldn't be anyone in the college and career class which my wife and I started a couple of months ago. Everything was quiet for the next hour except for the band. I sat at my desk and went over my sermon without much concentration.
At 10:30am I began greeting people for the morning service which begins at 10:45. I could tell right away the service would be low. Our part-time student pastor, another local college student in jeans and an untucked shirt, opened the service with announcements about youth camp and the youth mission trip. I really appreciate this guy. I slipped into KIDS Church to tell the children how good they were in the service on Easter and that I was proud of them. I came back to the service in time for the "Welcome" and met our one guest, an older woman, who had just arrived with a member.
The band played four worship songs: Blessed Is the Name of the Lord, Jesus Paid it All, and two songs no one had ever heard before. If I could have my choice of worship style, this would be it: guitars, a drum-box, and a mandilin. However, since we didn't know two of the songs it felt like they sang two specials in addition to the planned special, "Glorious Day." The leader had an incredible voice but he appeared to be singing for us instead of with us. I still felt like I could worship but I was also concerned what the congregation was thinking. I remembered that I forgot to pray with the band before the service.
I began preaching ten minutes after the hour. On a typical Sunday a man in the congregation will read the Scriptures before I pray but not on this Sunday. I prayed when I came to the podium (a music stand) and started into the message with these words: "Today's passage in Philippians brings us face to face with a problem. It is one of the most disheartening problems pastor's face. It is one of the most damaging problems to our relationships. And it is one of the most common problems in churches. It sours fellowship, spoils unity, stunts growth, undermines worship, and poisons witness."
The message was on unresolved personal conflict and how to conquer it before it conquers us. The passage was Philippians 4:2-3. I felt comfortable as I preached. I didn't feel too dependent on my notes which amounted to five 8x5 inch typed pages. I felt that I preached with passion, directness, and love. I kept moving so as not to spend too much time on one point. I think I kept from overly repeating myself like I tend to do. I believe the Holy Spirit helped me speak clearly and appropriately for the subject. I finished later than I wanted to, ten to noon, but I was confident that the Lord was leading.
I am still not comfortable with the "invitation time." Honestly, I don't know how to end a sermon after I've prayed. I know the expectations are to have a traditional altar call and invite people down front to make a decision. But I expect everyone to respond in their hearts right where they are. Typically I call this "the time of response". I offer to pray with anyone down front and sing the "response song" with the congregation. I did this on Sunday and then came the traditional offering with the passing of the plates and I dismissed the service while the band played a tune.
The people left the sanctuary out of four doors; some to the nursery, some to the foyer, and some to the parking lot. There was some fellowship but nothing extraordinary. One person told me the sermon was convicting for him. I wished as many as I could a restful afternoon and helped close up the building while the band gathered their equipment. My wife and I invited our student pastor and his fiance over for lunch after the service: waffles.
So, how was church?
It was all together ordinary. My mind was simultaneously on the sufficiency of God's Word, the power of the Holy Spirit, the privilege of pastoring AND the fact that attendance was down, we are in need of a treasurer and a part-time worship pastor, and a host of minor things of little consequence to the Kingdom.
My mind could have been more focused and free of details. My heart could have been more expectant and faith-filled. My soul could have been more heavenward and caught-up in the glory of the Lord and His work. My knees could have been more worn from prayer.
At the same time, though, God was with us. His Word never returns to Him void. Everyone was there who God providentially intended to be there. It was a good morning.
Here is a snap-shot of church this past Sunday morning followed by my evaluation.
It was raining and windy when I arrived at church at 9:00am. My first thoughts were, "I hope the weather doesn't keep anyone from coming today, especially the Sunday after Easter." I unlocked the doors, turned on all the lights, checked the thermostats, and sprayed some air freshner in the foyer which always seems necessary on Sunday mornings for some reason. I pray for the morning as I do these things.
On this particular day a band of local college students lead the music. The stage with their instruments and mics was prepared the night before. I made sure Media Shout with lyrics and sermon slides was ready on the sanctuary computer. They arrived at 9:30 to rehearse before the service. As usual they were in jeans, their shirts were untucked, and they were just happy to be serving the Lord.
Our members began arriving at that time and making their way to Sunday School. They were smiling even though the wind pushed them rudely through the doors. I learned our Sunday School Director wouldn't be there due to sickness, again. Minutes later I saw that there wouldn't be anyone in the college and career class which my wife and I started a couple of months ago. Everything was quiet for the next hour except for the band. I sat at my desk and went over my sermon without much concentration.
At 10:30am I began greeting people for the morning service which begins at 10:45. I could tell right away the service would be low. Our part-time student pastor, another local college student in jeans and an untucked shirt, opened the service with announcements about youth camp and the youth mission trip. I really appreciate this guy. I slipped into KIDS Church to tell the children how good they were in the service on Easter and that I was proud of them. I came back to the service in time for the "Welcome" and met our one guest, an older woman, who had just arrived with a member.
The band played four worship songs: Blessed Is the Name of the Lord, Jesus Paid it All, and two songs no one had ever heard before. If I could have my choice of worship style, this would be it: guitars, a drum-box, and a mandilin. However, since we didn't know two of the songs it felt like they sang two specials in addition to the planned special, "Glorious Day." The leader had an incredible voice but he appeared to be singing for us instead of with us. I still felt like I could worship but I was also concerned what the congregation was thinking. I remembered that I forgot to pray with the band before the service.
I began preaching ten minutes after the hour. On a typical Sunday a man in the congregation will read the Scriptures before I pray but not on this Sunday. I prayed when I came to the podium (a music stand) and started into the message with these words: "Today's passage in Philippians brings us face to face with a problem. It is one of the most disheartening problems pastor's face. It is one of the most damaging problems to our relationships. And it is one of the most common problems in churches. It sours fellowship, spoils unity, stunts growth, undermines worship, and poisons witness."
The message was on unresolved personal conflict and how to conquer it before it conquers us. The passage was Philippians 4:2-3. I felt comfortable as I preached. I didn't feel too dependent on my notes which amounted to five 8x5 inch typed pages. I felt that I preached with passion, directness, and love. I kept moving so as not to spend too much time on one point. I think I kept from overly repeating myself like I tend to do. I believe the Holy Spirit helped me speak clearly and appropriately for the subject. I finished later than I wanted to, ten to noon, but I was confident that the Lord was leading.
I am still not comfortable with the "invitation time." Honestly, I don't know how to end a sermon after I've prayed. I know the expectations are to have a traditional altar call and invite people down front to make a decision. But I expect everyone to respond in their hearts right where they are. Typically I call this "the time of response". I offer to pray with anyone down front and sing the "response song" with the congregation. I did this on Sunday and then came the traditional offering with the passing of the plates and I dismissed the service while the band played a tune.
The people left the sanctuary out of four doors; some to the nursery, some to the foyer, and some to the parking lot. There was some fellowship but nothing extraordinary. One person told me the sermon was convicting for him. I wished as many as I could a restful afternoon and helped close up the building while the band gathered their equipment. My wife and I invited our student pastor and his fiance over for lunch after the service: waffles.
So, how was church?
It was all together ordinary. My mind was simultaneously on the sufficiency of God's Word, the power of the Holy Spirit, the privilege of pastoring AND the fact that attendance was down, we are in need of a treasurer and a part-time worship pastor, and a host of minor things of little consequence to the Kingdom.
My mind could have been more focused and free of details. My heart could have been more expectant and faith-filled. My soul could have been more heavenward and caught-up in the glory of the Lord and His work. My knees could have been more worn from prayer.
At the same time, though, God was with us. His Word never returns to Him void. Everyone was there who God providentially intended to be there. It was a good morning.
Friday, April 17, 2009
The ugly dinner plate
Everyone needs a "Wayne" in their life. He is an elder in my former church and he isn't a peer. He is almost 80 and has been in and out of the heart hospital more times than I can remember. He is also a straight shooter. He can cut to the chase, kindly, better than anyone I know. He is also a good story teller when he wants to make a point.
I met with Wayne several weeks ago after a particularly discouraging episode with a church member. The only thing "getting it done" according to this member was my character, everything else was a disappointment. I received it as best I could and felt like a pretty good failure when it was all said and done. Is that ordinary?
Wayne listened to me say, "I feel like a failure," and recounted the following story:
I met with Wayne several weeks ago after a particularly discouraging episode with a church member. The only thing "getting it done" according to this member was my character, everything else was a disappointment. I received it as best I could and felt like a pretty good failure when it was all said and done. Is that ordinary?
Wayne listened to me say, "I feel like a failure," and recounted the following story:
As part of our move from one home to another about thirty years ago, I was helping Carol to unpack and put things away in the kitchen of our new home. As I opened a box containing every day dishes, I saw a dinner plate that was quite unlike most of the other plates. It was ugly!
It was a cheap dime store melamine plastic plate that had been finger painted by our son, Ken, then glazed, and given to his mother for Mother's Day. Ken was eight or nine years old at that time. He had printed his date of birth of birth as being in September when it actually occurred in July. He had started to draw what was now an indistinguishable picture, apparently made a mistake, and scratched back and forth through the image over and over until it was obliterated. It was definitely the work of a young child with very little artistic talent.I said, "Carol, why on earth do you keep moving this ugly plate?" Her reply was, "Because Ken gave it to me." I said, "So? Not only is it ugly, he has completely forgotten about it by now. He sure wouldn't miss it if you threw it away. Why is it so important to you, especially considering the way it looks?"
I will never forget her response. She said, "I don't keep it for the plate. I keep it to remind me of the love he had for me and his desire to please me. His wanting to please me was what pleased me, not the plate itself. Every time I notice that plate I don't see the plate, I see the look on Ken's face when he handed it to me, eager to see my response for all the love and effort he put into it."
God got my attention that day. I had spent much of my life wanting to please my Heavenly Father but always ending up frustrated, knowing that most of my efforts seemed to produce nothing more than another 'ugly dinner plate.' The more I worked at becoming a pleasing child to my Father, the bigger and uglier those plates seemed to become.
I had never once realized that He, like my wife with her beloved son, is pleased beyond understanding with my desire to please Him. He knows that the desire in my heart to plese Him is genuine, and therefore the product of my activity is totally inconsequential unless it ends up bringing sin into either my life or someone else's life.
The one thing that pleases God is our desire to please Him! He has stacks and stacks of ugly dinner plates on display, not for what they are worth and not because of their beauty, but because they remind Him of our love and desire to please Him!
That's how Wayne encouraged me that day. "Is your greatest desire to please God?" He asked. "Yes," I said. "Then give God your ugly dinner plates and know that He is pleased with you."
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Your sermons aren't relevant
The youth minister was just being honest. He was explaining why the teenagers haven't been in the service regularly. "They don't think your sermons are relevant," he said.
What's new. I felt the same way when I was a teenager, only the words "relevant" and "irrelevant" weren't in my vocabularly. But my parents didn't give me the choice of skipping the service. They didn't side with me like so many parents do today.
I can't stand the whole "relevancy" criticism. It is the easiest, laziest complaint there is. Every pastor I know wants to be relevant! The trouble is discerning what's relevant to everybody. Besides, the Word of God IS relevant no matter what we think about the sermon. While we could always apply the Word better than we do, sometimes I think the problem isn't relevancy but expectations.
Anyway, the criticism stuck. No one wants to be told their sermons are irrelevant. It's a little deflating because you have worked hard preparing those sermons. It's a little hurtful because you love those students. Its a little exacerbating because here is yet another group in the church you cannot please.
What good things can I take away from this revelation?
1. It is good to know what the students are thinking and feeling even if I don't like it. Maybe I can address this with them sometime, ask them what "relevant' means to them, show them I'm willing to listen and learn from what they have to say. Maybe they will learn from something I have to say.
2. It is good to cause me to evaluate my preaching. Do I preach with life-change in mind? Do I preach for transformation and not just information? Do I work as hard at applying the text as I do at explaining the text? Am I keeping my flock in mind, not in order to please them, but in order to reach their hearts? Have I forgotten certain segments of the congregation? Have I fallen into a rut? Etc.
3. It is good for me spiritually to hear criticism instead of avoiding it or hiding my head in the sand. God means to use the criticism we receive as pastors for our sanctification. All kinds of sinful emotions and attitudes lie dormant until we are criticized. Some of the complaints are true and reveal how willing I am to listen and change. Some of the complaints are wrong and reveal how willing we are to forgive and and show grace. My response could manifest pride and we know God resists the proud.
As with everything else, humility is the way to move forward. Receiving criticism as from the Lord rather than from teenagers. Lord, help me to do this.
What's new. I felt the same way when I was a teenager, only the words "relevant" and "irrelevant" weren't in my vocabularly. But my parents didn't give me the choice of skipping the service. They didn't side with me like so many parents do today.
I can't stand the whole "relevancy" criticism. It is the easiest, laziest complaint there is. Every pastor I know wants to be relevant! The trouble is discerning what's relevant to everybody. Besides, the Word of God IS relevant no matter what we think about the sermon. While we could always apply the Word better than we do, sometimes I think the problem isn't relevancy but expectations.
Anyway, the criticism stuck. No one wants to be told their sermons are irrelevant. It's a little deflating because you have worked hard preparing those sermons. It's a little hurtful because you love those students. Its a little exacerbating because here is yet another group in the church you cannot please.
What good things can I take away from this revelation?
1. It is good to know what the students are thinking and feeling even if I don't like it. Maybe I can address this with them sometime, ask them what "relevant' means to them, show them I'm willing to listen and learn from what they have to say. Maybe they will learn from something I have to say.
2. It is good to cause me to evaluate my preaching. Do I preach with life-change in mind? Do I preach for transformation and not just information? Do I work as hard at applying the text as I do at explaining the text? Am I keeping my flock in mind, not in order to please them, but in order to reach their hearts? Have I forgotten certain segments of the congregation? Have I fallen into a rut? Etc.
3. It is good for me spiritually to hear criticism instead of avoiding it or hiding my head in the sand. God means to use the criticism we receive as pastors for our sanctification. All kinds of sinful emotions and attitudes lie dormant until we are criticized. Some of the complaints are true and reveal how willing I am to listen and change. Some of the complaints are wrong and reveal how willing we are to forgive and and show grace. My response could manifest pride and we know God resists the proud.
As with everything else, humility is the way to move forward. Receiving criticism as from the Lord rather than from teenagers. Lord, help me to do this.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Please arrive 30 minutes early
I visited a church website the other day and found this helpful advice under the list of service times: Please arrive 30 minutes early to ensure yourself a seat. I wasn't surprised by it. After all, even I was lining up to download a sermon.
But it did make me pause. "What would it be like," I found myself thinking, "to pastor a church where five weekend services aren't even enough to ensure everyone a seat?" Congregants saving seats half an hour early? Standing room only? I can imagine the buzz in the air and the sense of expectation.
I've experienced it. I attended the Shepherd's Conference at Grace Communinity Church where John MacArthur pastors. The evening sessions were open to the public. I was anxious to arrive early so I wouldn't have to watch from the gymnasium. People were always lined up at every door to ensure themselves a seat in the enormous sanctuary.
In the late 90's, the church where I eventually served as an associate pastor, had standing room only. Three morning services still couldn't accomodate the number of people who wanted to attend. The sanctuary wasn't comfortable, but it was exciting. I dreamed of getting on the staff of this church and it happened.
Fast forward. I'm pastoring a church now and this past Easter Sunday we could have easily seated 3x as many people. On some Sundays the empty seats seem to shout, "Where is everybody?" It's the anti-buzz affect.
It is your ordinary church. It had standing-room-only services in the past. It was once the buzz of the town. That's why it built this new sanctuary that today we don't even begin to fill. There is a church down the road that moved into a brand new facility last year ("phase one") and they are already contemplating a third service. My church has been there, but not now.
What is it that makes me pause and wonder what it would be like to have a church where you have to come 30 minutes early to get a seat? Envy. Discontentment. Self-pity. Pride. All the evil vices that you think you've conquered but you really haven't.
What do you do about it?
For one, love where God has placed you. If you believe He is sovereign in all things then remember that God has sovereignly placed you where you are. He wants you there or you you wouldn't be there. Don't just accept it, love it. God placed you right where He wanted you, no mistake. Choose to be content and to happily serve, trusting to God's sovereign purposes. Repent of being discontent and unbelieving. That's the main thing, I think.
For another thing, think through it rationally. Some pastors really do have incredible giftedness and you enjoy their sermons, too. Some churches, like the one that started this whole thought-process, are located in the middle of metro-plexes of millions. Some churches go through seasons like this and they are truly a blessing but that doesn't mean it will always be like that. Besides, crowds are not necessarily a sign of fruitfulness or blessing. Faithfulness isn't measured by numbers in the pew.
Finally, get some perspective. While describing my church to an old friend on Facebook I was suddenly struck by what a blessing my congregation is. He is a missionary in France. Any ordinary pastor in France would love to have what most ordinary pastors in America have. Then I remember my friends in Bosnia and their little church of fifteen to twenty in a city of over a 100,000. There are churches today in New York City praying for just as many to show up at their Easter services. Biographies help me get perspective.
Okay, so now I'm looking ahead to this coming Sunday. What am I praying for? God, bless your church in every city around the world. Transform your church that gathers here. Bring here those you are sovereignly drawing to yourself. Cause your Name to be proclaimed and praised here; from the heart and not just the lips. Fill us with your Spirit. Fill us with faith. Work in us to work and to will for Your good pleasure. Keep me faithful. Keep me joyful.
Come early, Lord. Stay late.
But it did make me pause. "What would it be like," I found myself thinking, "to pastor a church where five weekend services aren't even enough to ensure everyone a seat?" Congregants saving seats half an hour early? Standing room only? I can imagine the buzz in the air and the sense of expectation.
I've experienced it. I attended the Shepherd's Conference at Grace Communinity Church where John MacArthur pastors. The evening sessions were open to the public. I was anxious to arrive early so I wouldn't have to watch from the gymnasium. People were always lined up at every door to ensure themselves a seat in the enormous sanctuary.
In the late 90's, the church where I eventually served as an associate pastor, had standing room only. Three morning services still couldn't accomodate the number of people who wanted to attend. The sanctuary wasn't comfortable, but it was exciting. I dreamed of getting on the staff of this church and it happened.
Fast forward. I'm pastoring a church now and this past Easter Sunday we could have easily seated 3x as many people. On some Sundays the empty seats seem to shout, "Where is everybody?" It's the anti-buzz affect.
It is your ordinary church. It had standing-room-only services in the past. It was once the buzz of the town. That's why it built this new sanctuary that today we don't even begin to fill. There is a church down the road that moved into a brand new facility last year ("phase one") and they are already contemplating a third service. My church has been there, but not now.
What is it that makes me pause and wonder what it would be like to have a church where you have to come 30 minutes early to get a seat? Envy. Discontentment. Self-pity. Pride. All the evil vices that you think you've conquered but you really haven't.
What do you do about it?
For one, love where God has placed you. If you believe He is sovereign in all things then remember that God has sovereignly placed you where you are. He wants you there or you you wouldn't be there. Don't just accept it, love it. God placed you right where He wanted you, no mistake. Choose to be content and to happily serve, trusting to God's sovereign purposes. Repent of being discontent and unbelieving. That's the main thing, I think.
For another thing, think through it rationally. Some pastors really do have incredible giftedness and you enjoy their sermons, too. Some churches, like the one that started this whole thought-process, are located in the middle of metro-plexes of millions. Some churches go through seasons like this and they are truly a blessing but that doesn't mean it will always be like that. Besides, crowds are not necessarily a sign of fruitfulness or blessing. Faithfulness isn't measured by numbers in the pew.
Finally, get some perspective. While describing my church to an old friend on Facebook I was suddenly struck by what a blessing my congregation is. He is a missionary in France. Any ordinary pastor in France would love to have what most ordinary pastors in America have. Then I remember my friends in Bosnia and their little church of fifteen to twenty in a city of over a 100,000. There are churches today in New York City praying for just as many to show up at their Easter services. Biographies help me get perspective.
Okay, so now I'm looking ahead to this coming Sunday. What am I praying for? God, bless your church in every city around the world. Transform your church that gathers here. Bring here those you are sovereignly drawing to yourself. Cause your Name to be proclaimed and praised here; from the heart and not just the lips. Fill us with your Spirit. Fill us with faith. Work in us to work and to will for Your good pleasure. Keep me faithful. Keep me joyful.
Come early, Lord. Stay late.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Before the sun comes up
God does not sleep. I sleep. I wake up in the morning. The sun is just coming up behind the trees on the other side of my street. Another day has begun. Nothing has happened in my life, for better or for worse, for seven or eight hours.
Then, from that point on, the main things on my mind are the things that directly concern me. From the time I wake up to the time I fall asleep again, I am absorbed with my world. And I feel that God must be absorbed with my world, too. He must be.
Somewhere along the way I've begun to think that because I wake up every day to the things that concern me, God must wake up every day to the things that concern me; as if He has just been waiting for my day to begin or has come out of a night's slumber to tend just to me.
But I've remembered something recently that rebukes me.
Before the sun comes up on me it has been shining over half the world. Before the sun comes up on me God has been attentive to the needs and prayers of tens of millions of Christians and their ordinary pastors. Before the sun comes up on me He's been gazing on the plight of 4 million orphans in Ethiopia and the famine, poverty and disease that rocks the African continent. Before the sun comes up on me He has heard the prayers offered to millions of false gods in India. Before the sun comes up on me, a hundred nations and thousands of people groups have been on God's radar as He unfolds His eternal purpose for them all.
Then, my alarm clock rings.
God is not absorbed with the things that concern me. He cares about my cares. He is with me. But I am not the sole focus of God's attention, neither is my church or my community or my nation. It ought to be the other way around. I should be absorbed in the things that concern Him.
Then, from that point on, the main things on my mind are the things that directly concern me. From the time I wake up to the time I fall asleep again, I am absorbed with my world. And I feel that God must be absorbed with my world, too. He must be.
Somewhere along the way I've begun to think that because I wake up every day to the things that concern me, God must wake up every day to the things that concern me; as if He has just been waiting for my day to begin or has come out of a night's slumber to tend just to me.
But I've remembered something recently that rebukes me.
Before the sun comes up on me it has been shining over half the world. Before the sun comes up on me God has been attentive to the needs and prayers of tens of millions of Christians and their ordinary pastors. Before the sun comes up on me He's been gazing on the plight of 4 million orphans in Ethiopia and the famine, poverty and disease that rocks the African continent. Before the sun comes up on me He has heard the prayers offered to millions of false gods in India. Before the sun comes up on me, a hundred nations and thousands of people groups have been on God's radar as He unfolds His eternal purpose for them all.
Then, my alarm clock rings.
God is not absorbed with the things that concern me. He cares about my cares. He is with me. But I am not the sole focus of God's attention, neither is my church or my community or my nation. It ought to be the other way around. I should be absorbed in the things that concern Him.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Now what can I paint?
Our church facility consists of a metal building, built in 2000, connected to an old cinderblock building, the original "church." The old building, which contains our fellowship hall, nursery, sunday school rooms, and former-sanctuary-now-turned-kids-church, was in need of some paint.
Good-bye white. Hello ash grey. Only after we bought the paint did someone explain that any color with the word "ash" in it will have a tint of green. Oh well. It's still an improvement.
After over 100 hours of painting efforts and holding on to our ladders in the Oklahoma wind there is still some finishing up to do. I don't mind. It already feels like an enormous accomplishment. It feels like the most productive thing I've had my hand in as a pastor. I can see before my very eyes progress, change, and newness.
I've heard it said that pastors don't often get the feeling of accomplishment. Our job is never done. Change is slow and often invisible. As a sheet metal apprentice during college I could produce things with machinery and clever tools. Now, producing anything other than a sermon feels elusive.
And what have those weekly sermons accomplished?
This is where faith comes in, again. By faith, though I cannot see the good I'm doing, I know God is doing good through me. By faith, though painting the old church is a good thing, I know preaching is more vital than painting. By faith, though I wish I could grow my church with clever tools, I know God is the one who makes things grow. By faith I know that my labor in the Lord is not in vain (I Cor. 15:58).
In the meantime, what can I paint next?
Good-bye white. Hello ash grey. Only after we bought the paint did someone explain that any color with the word "ash" in it will have a tint of green. Oh well. It's still an improvement.
After over 100 hours of painting efforts and holding on to our ladders in the Oklahoma wind there is still some finishing up to do. I don't mind. It already feels like an enormous accomplishment. It feels like the most productive thing I've had my hand in as a pastor. I can see before my very eyes progress, change, and newness.
I've heard it said that pastors don't often get the feeling of accomplishment. Our job is never done. Change is slow and often invisible. As a sheet metal apprentice during college I could produce things with machinery and clever tools. Now, producing anything other than a sermon feels elusive.
And what have those weekly sermons accomplished?
This is where faith comes in, again. By faith, though I cannot see the good I'm doing, I know God is doing good through me. By faith, though painting the old church is a good thing, I know preaching is more vital than painting. By faith, though I wish I could grow my church with clever tools, I know God is the one who makes things grow. By faith I know that my labor in the Lord is not in vain (I Cor. 15:58).
In the meantime, what can I paint next?
Most of us are
"Most of us - let us be frank - are ordinary pastors." D.A. Carson
Two thoughts come to my mind when I think of being an ordinary pastor. The first thought tends to be negative: I'm just ordinary. When you think of someone's attractive qualities, "ordinary" is not high on the list. Ordinary is plain, boring, and unimpressive. Ordinary is bad. Who wants to be an ordinary pastor?
No one, if they're honest.
Unless, and here's the second thought that comes to my mind, ordinary is good.
What if ordinary means faithfully being who you are and what God appointed you to be? What if ordinary means not drawing attention to yourself so it can be directed where it ought to be, say on God's glory and grace? What if ordinary means the struggles you are facing are not unique and so you're not alone? What if ordinary means being humble and meek?
Then, who wants to be an ordinary pastor?
I do.
I am an ordinary pastor, wrestling daily to love it.
Two thoughts come to my mind when I think of being an ordinary pastor. The first thought tends to be negative: I'm just ordinary. When you think of someone's attractive qualities, "ordinary" is not high on the list. Ordinary is plain, boring, and unimpressive. Ordinary is bad. Who wants to be an ordinary pastor?
No one, if they're honest.
Unless, and here's the second thought that comes to my mind, ordinary is good.
What if ordinary means faithfully being who you are and what God appointed you to be? What if ordinary means not drawing attention to yourself so it can be directed where it ought to be, say on God's glory and grace? What if ordinary means the struggles you are facing are not unique and so you're not alone? What if ordinary means being humble and meek?
Then, who wants to be an ordinary pastor?
I do.
I am an ordinary pastor, wrestling daily to love it.
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