Now that I have been in pastoral ministry for twenty years (+ 7 days), it gives me some perspective on seminal moments in my development as a pastor that have shaped my personal philosophy towards pastoral ministry. By no means do I consider myself an expert. Hardly. (Besides, I'd have to leave home and go somewhere where no one knows me in order to be considered somewhat smart about these kinds of things.) No, I'm just a guy twenty years into his chosen profession and still trying to figure it out. But looking back over two decades of pastoral work I can say with some degree of authority that there have been definite turning points where I began to look at ministry differently than I had before I became a pastor. Because I can't think of any hipper name or descriptive phrase than this I'll leave at that – turning points in my philosophical development. For ease of reading – and interest – I think I'll attempt to offer them installment-wise not necessarily in the order that they occurred but in the manner that they come to mind.
Turning Point: Months 1 & 2 (October-November 1991) – The Numbers Game
Because I never throw any records away, I can still recite here how many people were in attendance October 6, 1991 – my first Sunday as pastor of Chetek Full Gospel Tabernacle: 73. In our sanctuary, which probably holds at comfortable capacity 125 people (providing they are not Norwegians in need of a lot of personal space bubbles), that's a good showing. One week later there were 79 in the house. By my third Sunday, we dropped down to 70 but the Sunday of my installation service – October 27 – we hit 85. Since I didn't start journaling regularly until November 1, I have no record of what I felt the next day but it's a sure thing I felt better than that Sunday that we only had 70 present. (Keep in mind that we had several out-of-towners on hand for that special day among them my folks, my brother and my grandmother.) Looking over my hand-made spread sheets that I made for the benefit of our board members at the time, they show that for that first six months or so attendance at CFGT spiked and for a few months we were averaging 80s, 90s and – once in a while – a 100+ Sunday or two. That's strong medicine for a young pastor who hopes that every increase is directly related to his performance and worth. I was doing some things right – or so I concluded (and hoped my congregation agreed).
But eventually the bubble popped and our averages began to descend and come back down to earth. Strictly speaking averages, in fact, our attendance ran higher during the final year of my predecessor's term here in Chetek than at any time in my first year as pastor of CFGT – or, really – since. At the same time I was in my rookie season, a good friend of mine was in his albeit in Oakland, California. We would call each other once a week or so to talk shop and share progress reports. At the time, our congregations were approximately the same size but in a few months his church began to grow steadily and break the 100-barrier (which is something like breaking the sound-barrier in aerodynamics) and stay there. Admittedly, after awhile those weekly phone calls became personally inwardly tenuous for me as I learned of one more new breakthrough after another for my California brother. He wasn't bragging. There was no bravado in his voice. I, however, was feeling insecure about the fact that while he was regularly having over a hundred people in his sanctuary we were bouncing between 50 and 70 per Sunday as we have for twenty years now.
In that first month as pastor, I began reading Gordon MacDonald's book Ordering Your Private World. It was something of a must-read back in the 80s and now that I had the time for such reading, it was my turn to work through it. It was in Chapter 5 (“Living as a Called Person”) that a seminal thought was slipped into my heart that began to take root. In that section of his book, he spends a lot of time speaking about the life of John the Baptizer specifically as someone who knew his place and his role. As he elaborates in the pages of this chapter, when John shows up on the scene he is all the rage. People come from all over to hear this compelling prophetic voice in the desert and be baptized by him. You can almost feel the energy in those crowds that came from all points of the compass straining to get a look at this one who perhaps is the one they have been waiting for. He's like a rock star complete with security personnel (like Andrew) and a mesmerized audience. And then Jesus shows up and the crowds begin to thin and his star, as quickly as it rose, begins to fade. But do we find a man jaded by the fickleness of the masses? Not at all. When questioned by his followers if he isn't a little put out by the crowd beginning to flock to Jesus, he replies
 |
| John the Baptist preaching by Breugel |
“A man can receive nothing unless it has been given him from heaven. You yourselves are my witnesses that I said, ‘I am not the Christ,’ but, ‘I have been sent ahead of Him.’ He who has the bride is the bridegroom; but the friend of the bridegroom, who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly because of the bridegroom’s voice. So this joy of mine has been made full. He must increase, but I must decrease.” (John 3:27-30, NASB)
In other words, increasing or decreasing are not my department, says John. Being faithful to what I am called to do is. Of course, MacDonald's words are far more fluent than my own but that was the gist of it. In my rookie season, that ten page reflection on the life of John the Baptizer had a profound influence on my perception of my own experience as a pastor of a small church in a small town. As MacDonald put it:
Whether I increase or decrease is His concern, not mine. To order my life according to the expectations of myself and others; and to value myself according to the opinions of others; these can play havoc with my inner world. But to operate on the basis of God's call is to enjoy a great deal of order within.
(Ordering Your Private World, p. 61)
I typed that very quote up on a piece of paper and taped it to my bookshelf and for years it was a regular reminder to me that there were certain things that were under my control and certain things that were not. I don't say that I embraced this truth immediately. Any day there was a snow storm or just a low Sunday, inwardly I fretted about the attendance. When my fellow rookie pastor and neighbor began to experience significant growth at his church as much as I slapped him on the back and gave him an “attaboy” , inwardly it distressed me a bit that his church was growing and mine was not. But gradually over time, I experienced more and more peace and internal freedom as the truth of this statement came to roost in my psyche. Whether there were 51 or 101 in the house didn't in itself mean anything about my value as a person or as a pastor. There was no need to hang my head in shame when around colleagues with far larger congregations. That day sitting my office reading chapter 5 of MacDonald's book was a foretaste of the greater feast of inner peace to come.
No comments:
Post a Comment