Book Review: The Pastor

Ever pick up a book and realize it's written directly to, and about, you? Ever have a book that comes along at just the right moment, perfectly matching your situation, essentially changing your life?

I'd been meaning to get to Eugene Peterson's memoir The Pastor ever since it came out, but had a large pile of unread books I was working through. Then Ron came in and dropped a copy on my desk. He had no idea I was about to enter into a long summer of introspection and assessment. He had no idea I was going to need a friendly voice to sit with me as I sat and pondered my ministry and my life this summer. He just knew I probably needed to get to this book sooner rather than later.

And so Peterson has been a voice speaking into my life all summer, whether sitting in the quiet of my living room, or flying with me on the way into Chicago, or sitting beside the Skykomish River waiting to catch a fish. And his truly has been a helpful, and necessary, voice.

Peterson has written a lot of books during his storied career as pastor, writer, and professor; now that he has laid most of those titles aside, he has chosen to look back over the last decades and find the places God was working, using them as signposts to the rest of us, clues to the ways God might be working still. He points out quickly that Pastor has never been an easy title, and is probably more confusing now than ever. "North American culture does not offer congenial conditions in which to live vocationally as a pastor. Men and women who are pastors in America today find that they have entered into a way of life that is in ruins."

Thankfully, Peterson chose another way, a non-comformist way; or, as Peterson would probably say, God led him through this vocation to another way, a way of life in which he learned to live as Pastor to a specific people in a specific place over a long period of time.

I liken it to a long walk through a dark wood. There is beauty and terror along the way, with no clear path, no obvious trail. But God has left markers along the way to keep us on the path. Peterson has gone ahead of us, sometimes failing and sometimes succeeding, but he's now teaching us how to live in this forest. No quick plans to bring the forest to submission, no designs on fame or fortune; instead, an attentiveness to God's provision in the moment, and his people traveling with us.

One of the most helpful pieces throughout this book is Peterson's attempt at reclaiming the role of Pastor, a role this world can't seem to figure out. Whereas often the role of pastor is co-opted into CEO, therapist (my personal temptation), or simply village dimwit (Rev. Lovejoy, anyone?), Peterson works hard at drawing healthier, more vibrant pictures of what it means to represent Christ, to serve a people, to become part of a place and witness to what God is doing there. It certainly challenged me to consider why I'm in Lakebay, and what, in the end, God is calling me to do here.

So I need to thank Ron for dropping it on my desk, I need to thank Peterson for writing it. . .and now that I'm finished, I think I need to read it again. And again. And again.

Quote: Thom Rainer

". . .in our research of over four thousand churches across America, we have seen clearly that many congregations are abandoning the biblical model of pastoral ministry. Instead of allowing pastors the necessary time and encouragement to spend time in prayer and the ministry of the Word (Acts 6:4), congregations are demanding time and energy from pastors for tasks that have no biblical foundation.

Like the leaders of the Jerusalem church in Acts 6:1-7, if pastors have to meet all the perceived needs and demands of church members, they will have little time to give to their primary call of preaching and the ministry of the Word."

- In Surprising Insights

On the Other Side

I spend a fair amount of time visiting with people. And, as a pastor, I've done my share of hospital visitations. I've been with young parents shortly after they delivered their babies, I've sat with men and women who have come out of surgery, I've prayed at the bedside of people who just received devastating medical news. I've often walked into hospitals as a "man on a mission," the pastor on his way to sit and pray with his parishioners who are experiencing medical trauma of one sort or another.

Which is why the whole surgery experience was just plain odd. For the first time, I was the guy in the bed, the guy being wheeled down the hallway, the guy getting poked and prodded and stuck with needles and asked a hundred questions ("Is anybody abusing you?"). I kept thinking "wait - I'm supposed to be on the other side of this bed, the guy in control of the situation, the guy doing the ministering, not the helpless one having everything done to him."

Even as I was being wheeled down the hallway into the surgical suite, it became almost surreal, like "this isn't how this is supposed to work." And a couple days later, when Doug came by the house on a pastoral visitation call, in which he was the pastor and I was the "recovering guy," it was just too weird.

Sunday was the same. I attended church on Sunday. That's all I did. Other people called the people to worship, other people prayed, other people made the announcements, somebody else preached. I didn't do anything accept sit and stand and sit and stand (and start to fidget when the tylenol began to wear off. . .). Again, it was all backward. I was "the guy in the pew" rather than the one leading it all. It was pretty surreal (of course, that may have been the drugs, too).

Which, in the end, was probably all a good thing. To have to give up control, to put myself at the mercy of so many others, to experience the helplessness and lack of power. . .those are not things I'm so good at. It feels good to sweep into the hospital, knowing I'm doing what's expected and I'm fulfilling a calling and playing an important role. But we know that the call of the Christian is a call to relinquish control, to give up power and prestige. I don't know how often I get the chance to be completely dependent upon everybody else. So it's probably a good experience to be "on the other side." I would hope it all makes me that much more sensitive and empathetic to those I visit from here on out, as I've now truly been one of them. I've lain in that bed and felt helpless. I've sat in the pew and had to trust others to lead me through worship.

The other thing I've figured out is this: it's okay to be vulnerable in front of the congregation. In fact, I think there are times when the church needs the opportunity to turn things around, to show their love and appreciation and care toward their pastor. They don't need Superman, they need somebody who is human, who has hopes and dreams and fears and hurts, just like they do.

I'm reminded of a conversation I had way back in the first church I served. It was late in the evening, following a youth group meeting, and three girls in the group were sharing their frustration with me. And the core of it was this: "Dan, we tell you all about our problems, all about the things that bother us, we tell you everything in our lives, and you never tell us anything about what's going on in your life!" They were actually mad at me because I was holding some emotional distance from them. I was the leader, the youth pastor, and I thought I needed to show strength, to be impervious, to stand strong in the face of life. What they told me that day was that they needed me to be human. They wanted to share in my life as people, not as pastor-parishioner. They wanted true human relationship, not a static leader/student relationship.

And I'm still learning that lesson. I'm still learning that not only is it okay, it's truly necessary to let this relationship be reciprocal. As I minister to the people of this church, they need to minister back to me. As I love these people, I need to let them love me as well. And sometimes that means getting into the hospital bed and becoming the patient, of sitting down and letting them lead. Of letting them become Minister to me, in every meaning of that word.

So maybe my little jaunt to the other side made me just a little more human once again. At least when I say "I feel your pain," I really mean it, because my eye really hurts right now. Anybody want to bring me some tylenol?

Sometimes Visitation Comes to You

Yesterday I got into the office and did about an hour's worth of work, before I walked out and bumped into a new friend. He and I had a long, deep talk about spirituality and community and seeking our way in life. After he left I had a chat with a woman about a mutual friend who is deeply hurting at the moment. Then our mission chair asked to meet with me about something, so we talked for 30 minutes or so. After she left I walked over to the front office, and saw one of our older ladies sitting there, waiting for Bible Study to start, so I chatted with her for 15 minutes or so. Then another woman from the church walked in - one I'd been hoping to talk with for a little while, so she came into my office and we talked about life and leadership for 3o minutes. In between all that I received a phone call from a woman who is deeply struggling with financial and marriage issues, and we talked through some options together. In the midst of all that another woman from the church came in with some concerns about some possible "inappropriate political advertising" taking place on church property. And then, just about the time I was heading home for lunch, in walked our janitor, who had been in the hospital over the weekend, so he and I spent some time catching up on all that was going on in his life.

I had one thing to accomplish yesterday: sending out the email newsletter. Short, simple task, right? I began it at 10:00, and didn't get it our for 5 or 6 more hours, simply because the day was spent visiting with people. Some people would like to see me get out of the office to do more visitation; lately I'm finding I can't get out of the office because all the visitation is coming to me.

And so goes the life of a community pastor.

More on Mars Hill

I'm no fan of The Stranger, but they ran an article on the firing of two pastors that I mentioned a couple days ago (which, by the way, brought more people to this blog than any other post I've ever written. Maybe there is a marketing strategy there. . .)

What caught my interest was this:

Things got even uglier in a September 30 sermon, when Driscoll—who’s been the face of the church since it was first established in 1996—stated, sternly referencing the two dissidents, that “There are a few guys right now, if I wasn’t going to end up on CNN, I would go Old Testament on ’em. There’s no, like, attorneys and blogging, just like I punched you in the mouth, now shut up. That’s clean; it’s simple.”

The article doesn't footnote the quote, so there's no way of knowing if it's legit or not. But Driscoll is known for his provocative, shoot-from-the-hip, confrontational style, so it very well could be true.

It's not my place to stand here and cast stones across the pond. . .but having been a victim of another charismatic, power-hungry pastor attempting to bend the church's will to his every whim, I've got to say it's all sounding too familiar. Setting off warning bells on my radar, if you will.

Way back when, after I got away from that particular pastor, I found this verse and decided that either it would define my ministry, or I'd get out of ministry:

Be shepherds of God’s flock that is under your care, serving as overseers—not because you must, but because you are willing, as God wants you to be; not greedy for money, but eager to serve; not lording it over those entrusted to you, but being examples to the flock. (1 Peter 5:2-3)

It's that "eager to serve; not lording it over them" that pulls me up short and causes me to constantly question my motives. And it's a standard I often apply when attempting to discern the ministries of other pastors (well, that and the "not greedy for money," which would be totally different post than this one. . .). So tell me, accepting for the moment that the sermon quote is from Driscoll, how does it line up with Peter's admonition?