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.

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?

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.

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.

"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."

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:

1. Don't let people push you into their mold.
2. Profit from criticism.
3. Don't be afraid to let your humanity show.
4. 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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:

"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

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.

"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.