What Would I Want From My Pastor?

I have written several posts about pastor expectations - what people expect from (me) as their pastor - sometimes positive, often unrealistic expectations.  As I was thinking about this, it got me to thinking, "what would I want from my pastor?"

To be fair, I haven't "had" a pastor since 2001, when I left Kentucky.  I worked for two pastors, but they did not pastor me (and there is a big difference). I was in several churches before I was a full-time pastor, some with fantastic pastors, and all with positive aspects I'd like to emulate.

I grew up at Macedonia Christian Church, and I don't really remember much about anything that went on from the pulpit - most likely reflecting more on me than on our pastor.  I do remember that he had a good sense of humor, though.  And that's important.  It's important to me that my pastor not take himself too seriously.  True, the pastor's work is serious work, not merely life and death work, but eternity work.  But when a pastor takes himself too seriously, well, it's tough to relate to him.

Which brings me to the next church I was in: Chapel Hill Christian Church.  I wasn't there long (and was usually gone off to college), but I witnessed a change in John, the pastor who was there then.  His wife went through an illness and death, and John transformed. Some people get bitter and angry; John became much more focused.  I remember (as a high schooler) when he would rant at/about those of us who were sitting in the back.  But I also remember (as a college student) when he led our college group on Wednesday evening.  Part of what happened was he became someone who we could relate to.  But more than that, he could relate to God, and the way he related to us was God relating to us through him.

In college, one church I attended was my friend David's home church, and the pastor there (also named John) had passion for the lost.  Real passion to see people saved.  Passion to worship God in spirit and Truth. I want my pastor to have this passion.  It's not about doing a job, it's not even about growing the church, but about seeing lives/eternities changed.

Post-college, I joined First Presbyterian Church in Evanston, where I was impressed by Rev. Dave Handley's commitment to cross-cultural mission and ministry and his care for the marginalized and oppressed. 

While in seminary, I found Southland Christian Church, where Mike Breaux was the Senior Minister. I loved how I saw him treating his family and that he had boundaries and included self-care and regular play and exercise in his routine, all the while working really hard. He was a fantastic teacher and preacher who brought a relevant word, no matter how far along on your spiritual journey you were. He also shared glory - if something went well, he was the first to give praise to someone else, including his fellow ministry staffers as well as lay people.  I attribute this all to the power of the Holy Spirit - he was allowing the Spirit to inform him and to shape his messages.  This is the most important thing I want from my pastor: to be Holy Spirit led.  All of the other stuff isn't important if this isn't true. 

So, what would you want from your pastor?

Alone

Isn't this one of our biggest fears?  To be alone?  It's one of the things I have heard people talk about as they prepare for the inevitable; I just don't want to be alone. Maybe you know someone whose one wish is to not get "stuck" in a nursing home - alone.  I know that our church has several elderly people who are shut-in, and one of their sorrows is that they often feel like the church has forgotten them.  We are working to reverse this trend, but it's a real issue. This is a struggle for me as the pastor as well.  Pastors are already stretched to wear many hats; we wear some of them well and struggle with others. I received word (second-hand) that I didn't care about someone in a congregation I've served (because I didn't visit them enough).  The truth is that due to the size of the congregation, I myself cannot personally care for everyone like God does (and to be fair, I had visited them multiple times).  I've chewed on that word for a while, however, and this is one of the reasons why I am hoping our visitation team succeeds; that they remake (or build new) connections with those who are shut-in.

I wrote an article for our newsletter about loneliness and focused on these elderly (and mentioned our visitation team) and I got an e-mail from someone who isn't elderly but who is still lonely.  She is an active participant in our church, but she's had a hard time - in spite of being active, she is still all alone.

We did implement (bring back?) a "meet and greet" time in our morning worship services, and one complaint I heard was "we already greet each other; why do we have to have this greeting time?" But the unfortunate thing is that lonely people often aren't greeted in "informal" before-and-after service greeting times.  And then they are the worst kind of lonely: lonely in a crowd.

Being alone isn't by itself a bad thing - we should always take the time to be alone.  Even Jesus did this regularly. But all of us (even introverts) were made for relationship (as an aside, this is partially why Trinitarian theology is important - God is always a relational God, Father, Son, and Spirit, sacrificially loving one another).

There is a balance, because each of us can only be fully engaged in relationship with so many people.  I read a blog post last week and an article today that say that we can only be friends with 150 people (Dunbar's Number - popularized by Malcolm Gladwell, who we saw at Catalyst, in his book, The Tipping Point).  When we try to stretch this, it just doesn't work.

This has a big effect on church - there will be people who are on the fringes (for various reasons) - and part of the challenge is to integrate them into the regular life of the church.  So they won't stay alone.  Certainly there are some who come in and want to remain on the fringes; they want to come in  and check things out with no commitment (you see this a lot in large churches - you can't "hide" in a small church), but for most, it's difficult to be noticed and accepted.

And then, in the community in which they should be most loved and accepted, they end up alone.


My sister once lamented the reality of having to "break into" a church.  No, she's not a criminal (though her brother's nom de plume is "the Thief). Her point was that it's often difficult for someone who is new to a church to establish themselves as gifted and available.  Her experience came in the drama group in a church she joined shortly after college; though she's always been an excellent thespian (I was going to say "drama queen" but I didn't want her to take it the wrong way), but she couldn't get a part in their church plays. 

Involvement is one of the cures for being alone in a church setting, but what happens when involvement is eschewed?

And what happens when groups reach their threshold?  Though Dunbar's Number is 150, there are groups in which the maximum is 10 or 12.  We believe that cell groups are this kind of group, and when they grow beyond the threshold, they need to birth a new group.  But other groups can reach their threshold: I was in a praise band and when we got new members, we had a hard time accommodating them.  You can only have so many guitars playing on stage at once.  The church where I was accommodated the larger numbers (a couple years later) by forming multiple bands, each of which would play perhaps every third week.  I don't know how this works for practice - would all groups practice together?  Would they practice separately?  What about space and time issues? Etc.  There are definite growing pains.

And churches, by our nature, are supposed to grow. And when we grow, we reach thresholds.  Some have addressed this issue by coming up with satellite, video, and internet campuses.  Others have added services to their existing locations.  Others have planted new congregations. But all of these require sacrifice and change, which are difficult, especially because we often develop close bonds with people with whom we have been praying and praising, whom we have been supporting and encouraging.

The truth is that Jesus promised that he would never leave us alone; the Holy Spirit is always with us.  But sometimes this world can seem empty and lonely.

Overheard

This past Sunday afternoon I needed to bring some information to some church members who were having a planning meeting at a cafe down the street from the house.  I walked over and joked with them a little and then told them what I'd come to tell them.

The cafe isn't all that large, and there were only two parties present.  One was the planning meeting, and the other was a couple I'd never seen before.  No, wait, I'd seen them as they were parking their car in front of the cafe. Anyway, I couldn't help but overhear part of the conversation they were having with the waitress.  By "they" I mean the husband.  The wife didn't offer anything.  The waitress must have been talking about churches, because this is what I heard from him:

Well, the Methodist Church preaches a watered-down the message...

My first reaction was to defend us and to invite him to our church, which doesn't seem to preach a watered-down message (at least not to my knowledge - you can read my sermons and make your own judgment).  Then I thought, "And then we'll have this guy who'll just as soon attack us..."  And furthermore, I needed to get home to take care of the kids.

This got me to thinking, however.  What is a watered-down message? 

I was going to define watered-down message, but I found a good definition out there.Dan defines watered-down gospel this way:

"Watered-down gospel" is often an accusation that is more feeling than logic. In other words, it sounds powerful and inflammatory, but the people using it really don't have any true definition of the phrase. For one, what do they mean by "gospel"? Do they mean doctrine? Do they mean "message of salvation?" Do they mean practice? In my experience, it usually means "your doctrine doesn't line up with ours, or doesn't go as deep as ours, so you are lesser Christians than we are." It tends to be tossed from those who love doctrine at those who love people. In the end, I think it's a meaningless phrase, so I try not to use it or answer to it.

 I'm glad I didn't try to get into it with the guy.  I know what the outcome would have been: I would have gotten frustrated in trying to demonstrate to him that our message isn't watered-down. And I wouldn't have made any difference in his life.

Besides, it wasn't my conversation!

If you were his waitress, how might you have responded to this gentleman?

Truth-telling

Yesterday I read this blog entry about lying pastors and I have been chewing on it overnight.  To sum up the article, the author was in a conversation with other United Methodist pastors and the question was posed, "When is it necessary for pastors to lie to people?" He answered that it was never necessary, at which point the entire table disagreed with him with comments like this:

• You can’t tell people in the church the truth.  They can’t handle it.  We are there to protect them.
• Yeah, the church I serve has some really dark skeletons in its closet.  There is nothing good that would come of letting people know what really happened.
• And you know for a fact that we can’t tell people in our churches a lot of what we learn at seminary.  They don’t want to hear it, so we tell the same old stories the same old ways to keep everyone happy.
• Mostly it isn’t lying; it’s just not telling the truth.
  

Really, to get the whole picture, you should go and read his post. And while you're at it, read his follow up posts here and here.

I was frankly shocked that the pastors would suggest that lying is not only somehow "OK" but even necessary or required for ministry.

Two of the reasons they posed that lying was necessary were to protect the congregation and to keep the peace.  I remember an incident in college when my fraternity brother David Schaff came to me and said, "You first introduced me to Jesus, but I don't see you living that kind of lifestyle right now."

He didn't protect my feelings. He risked our friendship and his standing in the fraternity.  But it was absolutely worth it, for him as well as for me.

They posed that lying is necessary to maintain confidentiality; that if you tell someone that this isn't their business, that they will assume the worst.  Which is worse, breaking confidence, lying about the confidential material, or having someone assume the worst?  I pose that "this is none of your business" or "this is confidential" is a whole lot better than giving false information, no matter what sinful gossips are going to make of it.  Just because someone is going to react sinfully does not justify us sinning in the first place.  Jesus told his followers that if someone strikes you on the cheek [sinful behavior], turn to him the other also.  And if someone wants to sue you [sinful behavior] and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well.    What he is saying is that our behavior should not be contingent upon the behavior of those around us.

The real danger here is this: the very notion that pastors must lie, even if there are gray areas where truth-telling seems dangerous - this belief forces the creation of two classes, one that is somehow "above the rules" (those would be the lying clergy people) while the others (laity) must obey God's rules.  There are already enough divisions between clergy and laity, and we members of the clergy are too often put on pedestals (and we often contribute to that) and/or held at arms length (as "acceptable outsiders").  These only lead to a lack of trust, a distrust that our profession has earned over many years of lying to our parishioners.

I have been told that the reason so many people appreciate a pastor's visit so much (especially in the hospital or in times of deep distress) is that for those moments, we represent God to them.  I personally believe that this isn't just the job of the "pastor" but is also the job of anyone who carries the Holy Spirit within him or her.  God blesses us to be a blessing; to represent Him in the world.  What kind of representation do we offer when we feel like we need to break one of His Commandments?  And how can we expect people to trust fully in God if we're representing Him through deceit?

Here's Hoping

I updated the publishing portion of my blog today.  This shouldn't have any impact on you, but I was hoping it would have some impact for me; I was hoping that it would allow me to title my blog posts.

My sermon blog has a little blank above where I type my posts.  I have it on my (limited) igoogle homepage.  But not on my blogger page.

It didn't work. 
Drat.

Priscilla Shirer: Catalyst Speaker recap

Honestly I don't remember all of what Priscilla Shirer said - my notes were few. I do remember that she was awesome in saying it. She is an extremely gifted speaker. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree (her father is a gifted speaker as well).

Her theme was from Joshua 3, where Joshua acted immediately in response to God, crossing the Jordan at flood stage. She focused on "God is the leader; follow Him."

She told some stores about her family - one was about Christmas morning when she and her husband attempted to remind their 5 and 3 year old children about the real reason for Christmas:

Dad: "Whose birthday are we celebrating?"
5 year old: "Jesus"
3 year old (looking at his pile of presents): "am I Jesus?"

She didn't just leave a funny story to stand on its own, however; she immediately showed its relevance: Don't we often act like that? Like we think we're Jesus?

As I write about this, I can't help but think about Christmas - how we say we're celebrating Jesus' birthday, but we do all but that. Our parties and our gift-giving center around us - ourselves, our families, and our friends. We must be Jesus then. Can you sitting on the floor on Christmas morning, surrounded by piles of gifts, then looking over and seeing Jesus alone on the other side of the room...

As a church leader, I am convinced that our church can change this trend. Or at least we can start to do a better job of celebrating Jesus' birthday.

Catalyst Conference Recap: The Compassion Moment

If you were at Catalyst, you witnessed a powerful moment. If not, you can watch it below. (If you don't have enough time to watch the whole video, start at 3:45 for Jimmy Wambua's interview).

Catalyst 2009 Compassion Moment from Catalyst on Vimeo.

Here's the summary: through Compassion International Mark (a Canadian) sponsored Jimmy in Africa. To Jimmy, this meant life. Now Jimmy himself sponsors a child in Haiti - what an awesome example of compassion at work.

There wasn't a dry eye in the stadium when Jimmy was asked if he'd ever met his sponsor and Mark walked on stage.

Catalyst Speaker: Rob Bell

I've seen Rob Bell speak several times before, I've read his books, and I've seen several of his videos, and I've always been challenged and encouraged by what he has to say. Last Winter at the NPC he rocked the house with an amazing message: he started out talking about the wrongs that "church people" have done to us (as pastors), but he moved on to talk about forgiveness - giving us a concrete way to forgive.

At Catalyst, he told us he was going to go in a different direction, that the Holy Spirit was leading him to go in another direction than the one he had planned ("the importance of beginning with the beginning"). Instead, he talked about "Is Bigger Better?"

In John 6, the evangelist talks about many in the crowd turned back and no longer followed Jesus. Sometimes the crowd thins.

In Luke 21, the widow's mite was somehow more than the gifts of the rich.

From this platform, he talked about how sometimes we pastors and church leaders chase after the next great thing, sometimes at the risk of ourselves and/or our families. We ask "what if the next thing we do isn't popular?" when this isn't Jesus' question at all.

He brought up one Jewish view of the Ten Words (Commandments) that says that the first 9 are eternally visible, but the last (envy) isn't, perhaps because if one keeps the first 9, the final is given as a reward. We won't want anyone else's life; ours is just fine.

He then shifted to talk about loving neighbor as self - and if we don't care for ourselves, we aren't loving self. (Example: Are we taking a REAL Sabbath?) Until we take care of ourselves, we can't take care of others.

Then he asked about our spouses & kids: are they getting our very best or what's left over?

Rob Bell's message was a timely message for many there; it's a message we all need to hear and hear and hear again. We cannot sacrifice our families at the altar of the church, and we cannot be constantly committing adultery with Christ's Bride. We are called to have the following priorities (in this order):

1. God
2. Our families
3. Our church/job
   

It can be easy to "accidentally" exchange #3 for #1 - thinking we're focusing on God, but really we're focusing on the church. Then our families suffer. Then we suffer. I'm not sure why Rob Bell said that what he was going to say was controversial; he seemed genuinely scared/nervous when he told us that he was going to switch streams and all. It didn't seem controversial whatsoever. Maybe he is really hard-charging and he was preaching primarily to himself. With as high-profile he is as a pastor, author, and public speaker, I can imagine this being the case. I know from a conversation I had at the NPC with an employee of his that he expects hard work and long hours from his employees, but that he expects the BEST from himself.

It's a good reminder, no matter if he was simply preaching to himself.

What do you do to ensure that God gets your best and that your family doesn't end up getting left-overs?

Catalyst Speaker: Shane Hipps

Shane Hipps had a career in advertising as a strategic planner in communications for Porsche, where, as he tells it in his book Flickering Pixels, his task was:

to hijack your imagination, brand your brain with our logo, and then feed you opinions you thought were your own.

With this background, he became extremely media-savvy, and in this he figured out that the medium is the message. This is why someone might say something to you like, "It wasn't what you said; it was the way you said it." Because you might have said something nice or kind, but your body language and your tone of voice communicated something else.

How you say something is as important as what you say.

This is true with regard to the medium through which you choose to communicate as well. The medium, remember, is the message. And according to Hipps, Christianity is fundamentally a communication event.

I love the fact that guys like Shane Hipps are critically engaging communication culture, and it was quite ironic to be watching him on the 8 giant screens at Catalyst. But I was agreeing with him as we sang worship songs and not only were the lyrics on those screens, but they also included extreme close-ups of the worship leaders, and this was distracting (and a little bit embarrassing) to me. It elevated them from worship leaders (or lead worshipers) to big screen icons. I know that wasn't their intention, but it affirms Hipps' message.

I believe Shane Hipps is spot-on, and we need to evaluate our every use of technology as we communicate (irony #2 - that I write this on a blog, which I will share on Facebook and I really haven't evaluated how the message might change from me thinking it to typing it to it being read...)

The only thing that I think needs re-evaluated from the Hippsian point-of-view is the assertion that Christianity is fundamentally a communication event. I believe that Christianity is fundamentally a relationship; it's not just about communication, it's about a Person. To be fair, media (GREATLY) affects our communication about the Person (whether that communication be about God the Father, God the Son, or God the Spirit), but the heart of Christianity is not simply communication, it is a Person.

And that somehow changes the entire equation.

Catalyst Speaker: Malcolm Gladwell

First of all, let me just go ahead and say it. Malcolm Gladwell is a genius. You should immediately go out and buy all his books and start reading them now.

Or you could just read his blog.

At Catalyst, he talked about leadership, mostly from the standpoint of the Civil War, and the main point he brought out was this:

What we need from our leaders in times of crises is not bold and daring leadership. It is humility.

Overconfidence is marked by not listening to others, while humility does.

The rub here is who the "others" are to whom a good leader should listen. Discernment certainly has a top priority in this; spiritual discernment of who those "others" are can make or break a leader.

Who do you listen to?