Stories worth telling

“What's the thing you like most about being a pastor?”

Last night while I was doing a study in the Gospel of Mark, Linda randomly asked me this question. We hadn't been talking shop and I hadn't come home with any complaints. She was just laying on the couch attending to her Kindle and I was sitting at our dining room table attending to my lap top. Being in mid-flow of a thought I asked if I could get back to her on that. She said okay and went back to what she was doing and I went back to what I was doing. When I had a place where I could pause, I sat down in the recliner next to the couch and quipped, “I guess its something to do.” That got a little chuckle out of her. But fortified with a mug of hot chocolate in hand I began to itemize and arrange my thoughts.

Every pastor I know never got into the ministry because they thought the pay would be good (it's an old line in pastoral circles to say, “The pay's not great but the benefits are out of this world.”) In the twenty-three years I have served as pastor in Chetek, only once have I ever been asked to present at the high school's job fair – and then I think out of the curiosity-value alone. No, the people who end up behind the pulpits of churches across America certainly have different stories how they got there but their initial motivation, as far as I know, is the same: they want to make a difference. Yes, they are complying with what they feel is God's call on their life but they see the need and they discern by all kinds of means that they may be part of the solution to that need.

The way we were 1991

When I was a young man and starting out in the ministry, I thought I was what Chetek needed and I was in a hurry to prove my point. I did all kinds of things in the name of ministry – preach, teach, lead a small group, lead a weekly Bible study at a low income housing complex, begin and lead a community youth ministry to name a few things - and the thing is had a lot of fun doing them. But experience and age has taught me that young pastors tend to do such things because they have the zeal and the energy to do them and they sincerely believe that their efforts will lead to something good, something of substance and of eternal value.

Now that I've been swinging away at it for over two decades, I can't say with any real conviction if I'm making a difference except that I still hope to. I don't believe I've been wasting my time. I think I've made a contribution to the public welfare. I think I've done some good work. I still find energy and joy in working out my salvation in this small town in northwestern Wisconsin. But as to “making a difference” well, I guess in the end, that's for others to say. And really, as Paul once said of his own ministry, “eventually there is going to be an inspection...[and it] will be thorough and rigorous.” (1 Corinthians 3) so it behooves me to build well and obey what the Father leads me to do. Or else...yeah, there'll be some 'splaining to do.

Of course, that doesn't answer the question - “What's the thing I like most about being a pastor?” (Linda was too kind to say it last night but I think it would be fair to say she would tell anyone who would ask her that it's hard for me to give a short answer to any question when a longer answer is available.) So, here it is in a single sentence: I like stories.

I love a good story. I read stories to my children as they were growing up. I still read stories to the children of Roselawn Elementary long since our own children walked its halls. Linda loves it when I read a story to her. The truth is each of our lives is a story in the process of being written in our own hand and yet also influenced and shaped by God's Spirit. My calling as pastor of Refuge allows me to be a part of several faith-stories in the making. I'm certainly not the central character. Really, I'm more of a bit player who's been given a front-row seat of watching God form salvation in the lives of those in my spiritual care.

"Bubba" today

I think of a 12-year-old kid named “Bubba” who showed up at a scavenger hunt at youth group one fall night “back-in-the-day.” Since the mid-90s I have watched this boy grow up to be a man and become a disciple of Christ, a worship leader, and a husband to a wonderful woman who has graced him with two beautiful daughters. Given where he's from now that's a story.

Troy, Marie & grandson Izzk

I think of last Christmas Eve when Troy and I walked into Chetek's cop shop. For years, Troy had frequented that place twice daily to blow into a certain machine that would gauge how well he was maintaining his sobriety. But on that day he and I came bearing gifts of home-made Christmas cookies to the chief and those who work for him as a way of saying thank you for serving. The look on Chief Peterson's face said it all. Now that's a story considering it was Troy's idea in the first place.

Awesome stories told here

Or what about the (now) one-armed farmer who lost an arm but gained a Kingdom perspective that has since taken him to Asia, Africa and, in time, will take him most certainly to other places as well? Or his wife who has recently decided to turn her back on twenty or more years at the bank just so she could work alongside her husband at their thriving farm? You'll have to take my word that that is definitely a remarkable story.

There are so many others. I have sometimes planted, more often than not watered and cultivated and every once in a while been there for harvest – great stories of God's amazing grace and I get to see it all unfold in real time while I play my bit-part the best I can.

Certainly one of the blessings of being in a single place for a long time is to be able to see God's hand at work in shaping lives through the thick and the thin and all the seasons in between. I get to see young kids that I baptize grow up to become adults, marry and become parents themselves. Of course, when you are here a long time there is also opportunity to see young kids who once were in Sunday School or youth group grow up only to slide away from their Christian mooring and sail out onto seas that take them far from the place they once seemed firmly rooted in both spiritually and culturally. At times like that I have to console myself that I am not the main player in their story and neither has it concluded yet. I don't start anything nor will I end it. I'm just their pastor for a certain time in their life until they move on to other places, other pastors, other churches or, in some cases, no church or pastor whatsoever.

I'm just grateful to be a part of it and that's what I like best about pastoring. Just this morning I got a call from a guy who had gone through an Alpha course I led two years ago. The course had been good for him but after it was over he gradually faded out of the life of our fellowship. He was offended but not at any of us. His beef was with God and why certain prayers of his had gone unanswered. This past Sunday out of the blue he showed up at worship. He called this morning to tell me how sorry he felt for being so consumed with his own problems and allowing his anger to get the better of him. It was just great to hear his voice and hear the sound of the fresh wind of the Spirit of God blowing in his heart. That's the stuff I love about being pastor.

Our daughter, Emma, was the salutatorian of her graduating class in the Spring of 2013. She closed her commencement speech this way: “As we leave this place, in the story of our life that we each are writing let's make sure its a story worth telling.” When she read it to me the first time she was laying on the same couch that Linda was laying on last night and I was sitting in the same recliner. That moment took my breath away and made me weep tears of gratitude for being blessed with such a child. To have been given three others just as wonderful is a story that lacks my ability to tell it with the appropriate wonder that it deserves. But it's true – each of our lives is a story being written to a good end we hope and pray. And for reasons that make sense to the Father alone, I get to be here to read a number of them.