Page 4861 – Christianity Today (2024)

Desperate, Pastor Gary Stiles slouched on the sofa in my office.

“Dr. Blackmon, our ship is sinking, and if we don’t get help fast, we’re going under!”

Gary’s wife, Sue, sat nearby, crying softly. As their story tumbled out, I felt the pressure of their sleepless nights and 80-hour work weeks.

“Our ministry no longer has any joy or meaning,” Gary sputtered.

In twenty years of ministry, they had toiled faithfully in three congregations. Their ministry was acclaimed widely as a success.

In the last year, however, their church had begun to criticize them. Feelings of inadequacy and fatigue began to fester. They buried their pain, keeping their confusion and struggles secret. With nowhere to turn, they desperately needed a confidant.

“I guess my fire has gone out,” explained Gary. “Now I’m either angry at every little thing or so tired I can’t stand the thought of helping one more person.

“At first I thought if I just worked harder I could turn things around. But that isn’t working. Now our marriage is showing the strain.”

“What can you do to help us?” Gary and Sue pleaded, almost simultaneously.

Rethinking basic assumptions

In ten years of counseling pastors and their families, I’ve discovered that the problems facing a couple like Gary and Sue can be traced to their assumptions about ministry.

In our initial conversation, they revealed their “it’s better to wear out than rust out” attitude, which suggests that if things aren’t going well in the ministry, then the pastor must not be working hard enough.

Sue reinforced this belief by quoting Bible passages that encouraged them to “take up their cross,” leaving the family for the sake of Christ.

To balance this exhausting model they had endorsed over the years, I, too, quoted Scripture passages. We looked at Christ’s pattern, which balanced time with his disciples and the crowds with the time he carved out for close relationships and solitude.

I offered them a different model of ministry, one I call sensible servanthood, which takes into account the calling pastors feel to serve the Lord with a theology and practice of self-care.

Being more than a pastor

Gary agreed that a clearer boundary between himself as a person and himself as a pastor was needed. He admitted his identity as “pastor” comprised the sum total of who he was.

“Gary is boring when he’s not in his pastoral role,” Sue chimed in during one session.

Her comment opened the door for a lengthy discussion about how all families struggle with the need to balance independence and intimacy, distance and closeness.

Reflecting on his Midwest upbringing, Gary discovered that the rules of his own family emphasized loyalty and closeness to a fault. Actions and opinions independent of the family were discouraged.

Gary’s father was also a pastor. As a child, Gary remembered thinking that his “family” was several hundred strong, that he had more sisters and brothers and aunts and uncles than anyone he knew. He also recalled longing for more time alone with just his own family, but he was gently chided when his parents felt he didn’t understand that the Lord’s work came first.

Gary discovered this pattern in his own ministry.

In his first pastorate, Gary landed in a small church in the Southwest accustomed to having the pastor do everything. During the board meetings his first year, he would bring up the need for the sanctuary to be repainted, both inside and out. Agreeing enthusiastically, the board members would then move on to the next item on the agenda.

You may have already guessed what happened. After a year, Gary got out his rollers and brushes and painted the entire church himself.

That memory prompted Gary to discover that he, like his father, had a tendency to overfunction. Sue observed that both of them had never met a congregational need they didn’t feel obligated personally to fulfill. Their successes reinforced their tendencies.

Success, though, also reinforced the underfunctioning of their congregations. When the church climate wasn’t peaceful or things weren’t working perfectly, Gary personally assumed the problem, thinking he wasn’t trying hard enough. The people around him, of course, were more than willing to support his work habits. And when his credibility began to deteriorate (an inevitability of pastoral overfunctioning), criticism mounted, both from inside himself and from the church. His bent to solve personally every problem in the church had created expectations he no longer could meet.

“For years I have felt my efforts weren’t appreciated,” he mused, “but now it looks like the problem started with me. I trained these people to expect much from me, and the moment I couldn’t deliver, they felt I was letting them down.”

Knowing that overfunctioning leaders almost universally feel underappreciated aided Gary’s recovery. He had secretly taken these feelings of not being appreciated to the Lord for many years, believing his motives for ministry lacked integrity. He had never confessed them to anyone, even Sue. Instead, he converted his feelings into irritability and angry outbursts that left his family bewildered.

“Now that I know all of this, how can I change?” he asked.

Redefining yourself

“By strengthening your level of self-definition,” I replied. “Pastors with high levels of self-definition are able to stand their ground, calmly sharing their ministry values and goals even in the heat of emotional demands by the congregation.

“A pastor with poor self-definition, however, is emotionally overwhelmed with other people’s expectations and demands. This pastor constantly defines himself based on unrealistic expectations.”

Gary chose first to work on the issue with his own family. If he could exercise more self-definition with his parents, then he might feel empowered to do this with his congregation.

During his next visit with his parents, he deliberately chose to speak out on a ministry issue with which he knew they would disagree. His pattern in the past, he told me, was either to avoid such issues or, occasionally, to get angry, cutting off his parents if they disagreed.

This time, however, he spoke calmly and firmly, staying connected emotionally to his parents as they worked to change his mind. In one of our sessions, we role-played this encounter, preparing Gary for their resistance and his calm response. The actual encounter, however, went off without a hitch.

“Dad, my ministry is taking a new direction, and I wanted you to know about it,” Gary began timidly. “To reach the community, we’ve brought in guitars and an electronic keyboard every Sunday morning.”

“Well, Gary, I would never give up playing hymns in any worship service I conducted!” his father retorted.

But Gary continued-without storming out of the room and with a steady calm in his voice-to explain his rationale for modernizing the worship service. His father, to Gary’s surprise, endured his lengthy explanation, listening patiently to his new ideas. Gary returned from the visit shocked that his parents were so “accepting,” feeling closer to them than ever before.

Gary was fortunate. Often, when the unspoken rules are broken, my clients encounter stiff resistance. The resistance is designed, of course, to realign the adult-child’s thinking with the old rules of the family.

Changing the rules in Gary’s own family set the stage for changing the boundaries in his church family. Through prayer, relaxation exercises, and practice, Gary learned anxiety control. He became a “nonanxious presence,” which allowed him to maintain objectively his own role under emotional pressure while staying engaged with the issue at hand.

Broadening your identity

The final phase of Gary’s therapy centered on Sue’s comment that Gary was boring outside his role as pastor. Gary’s whole identity was wrapped up in his work; his whole world was ministry.

For Gary, this meant reinvesting himself in family activities away from the church. He had talked about fishing with his sons but had never taken the time. Now was the time.

A year later, talking to me over the phone, Sue took back her description of Gary as a bore. She now saw him as multi-dimensional-“pastor” was only one aspect of his identity. Gary had even taken up cooking! One date-night a week, he would practice a new gourmet dish on Sue, and then they would spend the evening alone. She loved it!

Redrawing the lines

A few simple steps can help overfunctioning pastors regain control over their lives and redefine their boundaries:

Muster emotional support. Most of us can’t see the impact of our leadership style without objective counsel from a friend or colleague. And most likely, we’ll have to take the initiative to find this support.

One pastor I know, after an episode of burnout, negotiated with his board members a one-hour telephone call each week to a colleague from a previous pastorate. Both pastors used this weekly conversation to confess their struggles and solicit feedback.

Rebuild personal identity. Like Gary, many pastors are so tightly focused on their church that the rest of their personality is underdeveloped. Rediscovering hobby interests, developing new activities both as an individual and a family, and pursuing friendships outside the congregation are great places to recover a balanced identity, which also infuses new life into your ministry.

Some time ago, a woman disagreed sharply with my belief that people in Christian ministry should lead balanced lives. Real servants, she said, sell-out, giving all their time and energy to ministry.

Three years later, she called me to say that she was out of the ministry. She needed time to restore her spiritual and physical vitality. Only three years of her hectic pace was needed to burn out. Now she hoped for a second chance, with a new resolve to serve her Lord more wisely.

Clarify expectations. Educate your congregation about the hazards of ministry. The people in the pew are mostly naive about the unique pressures on the pastor’s family.

One pastor’s wife recently gave a Saturday morning workshop on the role of pastors and their families. To her surprise, almost the entire church showed up!

During the two-hour session, she asked the audience to generate solutions for handling the pressures on the pastor’s family. The congregation responded enthusiastically, participating in finding helpful solutions for family stress. In thirty-five years of ministry with her husband, she has never felt more supported by that congregation than she feels presently.

Reflect on the boundaries in your family of origin. Was there a balance between independence and closeness, or was one emphasized over the other? Recognizing destructive patterns is often the first step toward lasting change.

One pastor discovered that in his family the women did most of the talking and made all the decisions. That pattern of men deferring to women, he discovered, had impacted his ministry. He frequently looked to women to affirm his decision making, and he avoided displeasing women in his church. In our counseling, then, we worked on his assertiveness with females-both in his family and his church. A sensible servant is not a contradiction in terms. Like the apostle Paul, our aim is to meet our Lord, knowing that over a lifetime we have given our best.

-Richard Blackmon

Pacific Psychological Resources

Westlake Village, California

Copyright © 1993 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

You rarely hit creativity by aiming at it directly. You have to point at a larger, more substantial target.

Creativity is dangerous. When you ask for creative ideas, you never know what you’ll get. We asked some of our regular contributors to help us plan this issue, and one of them, John Ortberg, sent us his suggestions under the heading: ARTICLES YOU AREN’T LIKELY TO READ IN LEADERSHIP.

Here’s his lineup:

“Our New Format: If Fanny Crosby Didn’t Write It or Bing Crosby Didn’t Sing It, We Don’t Play It”

– Bill Hybels

“I’m Sick and Tired of Ministry, and I’m Not Too Crazy about People Either”

– Robert Schuller

“Lighten Up: A Case for More Good Jokes in Our Preaching”

– John MacArthur, Jr.

“Can’t We All Just Get Along?”

– Dave Hunt

“Too Much Reading: Why I Started Watching ‘Nick at Night’

– Eugene Peterson

“I Have No Idea What the Future Holds”

– George Barna

“Oops! Dr. Spock Was Right”

– James Dobson

“Predestination: People God Loves, People God Leaves”

– R.C. Sproul

“When Your Voice Is Deeper than Your Faith”

– Lloyd John Ogilvie

“Power and Healing-What’s the Big Deal?”

– John Wimber

“How I Got into Amway-and You Can, Too”

– Ron Sider

“Fasting, Schmasting, Let’s Have a Cheeseburger”

– Richard Foster

Ortberg is right. LEADERSHIP isn’t likely to publish such material. Ever. We wouldn’t even think of those things. We’re not that, uh, creative.

* * *

Not long ago, I was with a minister who had recently assumed a new pastorate, following a man who had been there several decades.

“My predecessor was a living legend,” he said. “Every sermon of his was profound. For the first eighteen months I was here, I tried to imitate him.

“Every week I sat in my study trying to come up with something profound. But all I got from the people were a lot of blank stares. Finally, I stopped trying to be profound.

“Now I’m just trying to communicate God’s Word clearly and passionately. And people are telling me my sermons are really making them think!”

He had stumbled onto a great truth: If you try to be profound, people will think you’re unclear; if you simply say something significant and say it clearly, they’ll think you’re profound.

Creativity, like profundity, is rarely reached by aiming at it directly. You usually hit creativity by pointing at a larger, more substantial target.

Those who want only to be creative often come across not as creative, but as ridiculous.

For the first four years of my journalism career, I wrote Sunday school curriculum and small group discussion materials. I felt continual pressure to be creative. But among my coworkers, we had standing jokes about the strained attempts to inject innovative methods into Christian education materials. (“Now take this paper cup and tear it into a shape that for you represents the concept of the substitutionary atonement. Explain your work to the group.”)

True creativity is more likely to be found not by focusing on being creative, but by focusing on your goal and how you can best accomplish it despite obstacles and limitations.

The best preaching emerges not from those trying to be different, but from those trying to be heard and understood-week after week.

The most creative programming comes not from those trying to be avant garde, but from those trying to impact individuals they know with the gospel, and finding ways to connect.

The “eureka” moments in administration usually don’t come from overseers seeking a cutting-edge reputation, but from individuals facing a dilemma and not giving up until they find a win-win situation.

And what feeds this kind of constructive creativity? The examples of others who are applying their inventive minds to the tasks of ministry.

As eighteenth-century portrait painter Joshua Reynolds said, “Invention, strictly speaking, is little more than a new combination of those images which have been previously gathered and deposited in the memory. Nothing can be made of nothing; he who has laid up no materials can produce no combinations.”

This issue of LEADERSHIP offers ingredients to feed your own creative applications-in preaching, programming, problem-solving, and the uttermost parts of pastoral ministry.

Even if we couldn’t recruit Richard Foster to reflect on fast food as a spiritual discipline.

Marshall Shelley is editor of LEADERSHIP.

Copyright © 1993 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

We serve a powerful, present God. We live in a world that does everything it can to keep us from staying fully connected. Jim Cymbala, who for twenty years has pastored the Brooklyn Tabernacle, an inner-city church on Flatbush Ave. in New York, knows what “brown outs” are all about. He, his family, and his church, have seen desperate adversity.

They have also felt the power. When Jim came to Brooklyn Tabernacle, the church had two people attending the midweek prayer meeting. Now, over one thousand people come out each Tuesday evening to pray and wait upon God. A team of members pray from 2:00 P.M. until 6:00 A.M. every day of the week. The Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir has its own significant ministry of gospel music under the direction of Jim’s wife, Carol. And the church is starting other churches and reaching out around the world.

How has it happened? According to Jim, it was anything but great planning.

How do you define spiritual power?

One Sunday in our church services, a woman who sings in our choir, a former drug addict with the HIV virus, told the story of how she came to Christ. She described in raw detail the horrors of her former life. A street person named David stood in the back listening closely.

The meeting ended, and I was exhausted. After giving and giving, I had just started to unwind when I saw David coming my way.

I’m so tired, I thought. Now this guy’s going to hit me up for money.

When David got close, the smell took my breath away-a mixture of urine, sweat, garbage, and alcohol. After a few words, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a couple of dollars for him. I’m sure my posture communicated, Here’s some money. Now get out of here.

David looked at me intently, put his finger in my face, and said, “Look, I don’t want your money. I’m going to die out there. I want the Jesus this girl talked about.”

I paused, then looked up, closed my eyes, and said, “God, forgive me.” For a few moments, I stood with my eyes closed, feeling soiled and cheap. Then a change came over me. I began to feel his pain, to see him as someone Christ had brought into the church for that moment.

I spread out my arms, and we embraced. Holding his head to my chest, I talked to him about his life and about Christ. But it wasn’t just words. I felt them. I loved him. That smell-I don’t know how to explain it-it had almost made me sick before, but it became beautiful to me. I reveled in what had been repulsive.

I felt for him what Paul felt for the Thessalonians: “We were gentle among you, like a mother caring for her little children. We loved you so much that we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well, because you had become so dear to us” (1 Thess. 2:7, 8). God put that kind of love in me.

The secret to Paul’s ministry was what I felt that night. That divine love became supernatural power.

The minute my attitude changed, David knew it. He responded to that love and allowed me to minister to him. The gospel got through to David that night. I was a detriment until God got me back in tune.

So spiritual power, in this case, is the ability to care?

When I think of spiritual power, I often think of a baptism of love. My wife and I have found that unless God gives us new baptisms of compassion and love, we would leave New York City and all its problems in a second.

Paul urged the Ephesians to be filled constantly with the Spirit. I have no desire to argue doctrinally about what that means; all I know is if God doesn’t do that for me, I stop caring. Often, when I hear about one more child molestation case, I want to say, “Why don’t you all get out of my face? I don’t want to deal with this anymore.”

Left to Jim Cymbala, I am not capable of continuing to care.

We deal with stuff that is so overwhelming. A guy said to me, “Pastor what do I do? I killed this guy five months ago, and I don’t know if the cops are looking for me or not.”

“Killed a guy! What do you mean you killed a guy?”

“I shot him. You know, I needed money-the crack thing.”

You hear enough of those stories, and you build a wall and stop reacting. That’s bad. You don’t want to take it home because it will affect your wife and your children, but if you don’t feel the pain your ministry becomes mechanical, just, “Here’s a verse.”

People in pain don’t need “Here’s a verse.” They need what I felt for David.

When I’m looking at people through God’s eyes and I’m feeling how Christ feels, then spiritual power can flow through me to them.

Is spiritual power something that comes and goes? Or is it only our ability to see or feel it that fluctuates?

We need fresh experiences of God’s presence. Revivalist Charles Finney said he would go into the woods and pray until God revealed himself in a fresh way.

You can’t keep a sense of God’s greatness without renewed experiences. Memory and intellect can’t preserve that sense of “God with us.” The Word alone won’t give us that. The Spirit has to give us fresh manifestations. We gain this awareness of God’s presence, not intellectually, but with the eyes of the heart, as Paul prayed for the Ephesians.

There is something about just being with God, waiting on him, and pouring your heart out to him, like Hannah did when she was praying for a son, that makes you effective. It gives you wisdom and new strength to go on. I made it my pilgrimage in life. I fail at it. I haven’t arrived at anything, but the spiritual life is a pilgrimage to seek the next oasis and a greater likeness to Christ.

How do you seek God’s presence and power?

When I came to Brooklyn Tabernacle at age 28, the church numbered under twenty people. The situation at first was so depressing, I didn’t want to come to services. And I was in charge, which was not a good sign. (Laughter)

We struggled to make ends meet. The first Sunday offering was $85. I made $3,800 my first year here and $5,200 the second. I had a second job, and my wife had to find work.

After two years I got a cough in my chest I couldn’t shake. For weeks I was spitting up phlegm, unable to go to a doctor because we didn’t have money or health insurance. Finally I went to my in-laws’ home in Florida to see if the sun and some rest would help me.

One day, sitting in a fishing boat, I prayed, “Lord, one book says buses are the key to building a church. Another book says cell groups meeting in homes is the key. Another, multiple eldership. Another, releasing people from demons.

“Lord, what do I do? I’m in New York City with people dying all around me. You couldn’t have put Carol and me here to do nothing. But God, how can we get their attention? How can we get conviction of sin?”

Then God spoke to me in the closest thing to an audible voice I’ve ever experienced. The Lord told me if my wife and I would lead the people to pray and to wait on him, he would take care of every sermon I needed to preach (which I was very insecure about), he would supply all the money we needed, both personally and as a church, and no building we used would be large enough to contain all the people he would send in.

How did that vision affect your ministry?

When I returned to New York, I told the congregation, “The barometer of our church is now going to be the prayer meeting. The key to our future as a church will be our calling on God to release his miraculous power among us.

“We need continual outpourings of the Spirit. Jesus promises, ‘How much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him.’

“When God does pour out his Spirit, expect for him to also save souls. Acts 11 says that when a group of Christians went to Antioch and preached the gospel, ‘The Lord’s hand was with them.’ What was the sign that the Lord’s hand was with them? It says, ‘a great number of people believed and turned to the Lord.’ That’s what we want to pray for.”

At that time our prayer meeting had maybe fifteen people attending. In that weekly meeting, we began to wait on the Lord, and God gave us the gift of prayer. Worship and praise took hold. We saw that in direct proportion to the liberty God gave us in prayer, things happened: Unsaved loved ones started coming, getting convicted, and getting converted. Other people came in, and we didn’t know where from.

Every Sunday since that day-eighteen years ago-we have made the announcement that on Tuesday evening the doors open for our most important service, the one we look forward to most, the prayer meeting.

What are today’s common misunderstandings about spiritual power?

One misunderstanding is that grace and power comes to people primarily through the sermon or through understanding sound doctrine.

I talk to pastor after pastor who is sound in doctrine and teaches it well but who admits something is missing. Their churches are plagued by rampant divorce, young people slipping off into a “worldly” lifestyle, no spiritual fervor, people watching the clock so they can get out of church and watch sports on TV.

The spiritual power the church needs is not released primarily through the sermon but by coming to “the throne of grace” in prayer. Hebrews 4:16 says, “Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.” The sermon is supposed to be an arrow that directs the heart to God so he can minister fresh strength at the throne of grace.

How can you have a New Testament meeting without a time for prayer after the sermon? Making the sermon the centerpiece of a service doesn’t seem to fit with Jesus’ words in Matthew 21:13, in which he says, “My house will be called a house of prayer.” R. A. Torrey, the former president of Moody Bible Institute, wrote that the Word of God alone will not break a self-righteous, proud person. You have to get him or her into the presence of God.

Too many church services have become a lecture series. The Christian church was born not in a clever sermon but in a prayer meeting.

Besides prayer, what other sources of spiritual power have you experienced?

I have received tremendous strength from our church.

Up until age 16, my oldest daughter was a model child. But then she got away from the Lord and involved with a godless young man. She eventually moved out of our house and later became pregnant.

We went through a dark tunnel for two and a half years. While wonderful things were happening at the church-we were renting Radio City Music Hall for large outreaches, starting other churches, my wife and our Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir were making albums, many were coming to Christ-no one knew I was hanging on by a thread. I often cried from the minute I left my house till I got to the church door, thinking, God, how can I get through three meetings today? My daughter …

But I didn’t want to make my need the focus. People are coming to the church because of their needs. Many live in ghettos, in violent, non-Christian homes.

After Chrissy had been away for two years, I again spent some time away in Florida. I said to God, “I’ve been battling, crying, screaming, arguing, and maneuvering with Chrissy. No more arguing, no more talking. It’s you and me. I’m just going to intercede for my daughter.”

I told Carol to stay in touch with our daughter, because I was no longer going to talk to Chrissy; I would only pray.

I stayed in Florida until I “prayed through.” God brought me to a new realm of faith so that when I returned to New York I stopped reacting as before to the discouraging things Chrissy did. I found a place in God where I could praise him even though the news from her was getting worse, which is a hard thing to describe. It wasn’t positive thinking; it was faith.

Four months later, in February, we were in our Tuesday night prayer meeting (the choir and the church leadership now knew about Chrissy, but we didn’t spread the news any further in the church). I had not talked to my daughter since November.

An usher passed a note to me from a young woman in the church whom I felt was a spiritual person. “Pastor Cymbala, I feel deeply impressed that we are to stop the meeting and pray for your daughter.”

Lord, is this really you? I prayed within myself. I don’t want to make myself the focus.

At that moment Chrissy was at a friend’s home somewhere in Brooklyn with her baby.

I interrupted the meeting and had everyone stand. “My daughter thinks up is down, white is black, and black is white,” I said. “Someone has sent me a note saying she feels impressed that we are to pray for her, and I take this as being from the Lord.”

Then some of the leaders of the church joined me, and the church began to pray. The room soon felt like the labor room in a hospital. The people called out to God with incredible intensity.

When I got home later that night, I said to my wife (who wasn’t at the prayer meeting), “It’s over.”

“What’s over?” Carol said.

“It’s over with Chrissy,” I replied. “You had to be there tonight. I just know that when we went to the throne of grace, something happened in the heavenly places.”

Thirty-six hours later, I was standing in the bathroom shaving. My wife burst into the room. “Chrissy’s here,” she said. “You better go downstairs.”

“I don’t know. . .” I said, having intentionally kept my distance from Chrissy for four months.

“Trust me. Go downstairs.”

I wiped off the shaving cream. I went to the kitchen, and there was my daughter, 19 years old, on her knees weeping. She grabbed my leg and said, “Daddy, I’ve sinned against God. I’ve sinned against you. I’ve sinned against myself. Daddy, who was praying on Tuesday night?”

“What do you mean? What happened?” I said.

“I was sleeping,” she said. “God woke me up in the middle of the night, and he showed me I was heading toward this pit, this chasm, and Daddy, I got so afraid. I saw myself for what I am. But then God showed me he hadn’t given up on me.”

I looked at my daughter and saw the face of the daughter we raised. Not the hardened face of the last few years. So Chrissy and our granddaughter moved back into our home.

That was three years ago. Today she’s directing the music program at a Bible school and was married this past year to a man from our church.

Most pastors we talk to experience spiritual power intermittently but not constantly. Almost everyone talks about times of “dryness” or “leanness of spirit” or “dark nights of the soul.” Did you experience this?

During those years when Chrissy was away, the verse “My grace is sufficient for you for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9) became so real to me, though I was weak emotionally.

My wife went through an especially dark time. The enemy attacked her with the thought, So you’re going to stay in New York City and influence a lot of people? Fine, but I’ll have all your children. I’ve got one, and now I’m coming for the other two.

Carol told me, “I can’t take this sitting down. You can leave the church with me or stay, but I’m taking my other two kids. I’ve got to get out of this environment. I’m going to save our children. You can’t do this to them.”

I half agreed with her. But then I thought, If I move unilaterally, not knowing for certain that it’s God’s will, what will my next move be? If you violate God’s will, where does that end? Is that something you can do in just one area without opening up your life to even worse problems?

Carol’s dad, a retired pastor, counseled her to stay put: “Carol, it doesn’t matter where you go. It won’t change Chrissy.” Somehow God held us there and overruled our weakness.

During those days, whenever the phone rang, my stomach tensed. I didn’t approach the situation right with Carol most of the time, which made it worse. Many Sunday mornings I woke up feeling I couldn’t go to church.

It’s scary when I think back, how many times driving up to the church I thought, I’m making a U-turn, and I’m not coming back. I can’t do this anymore.

But when I got into the church building, a peace would hold me, and I could get through the day. Carol and I felt we owed the people our best to minister to them and not get into a pity party. For three services I would pray for people and largely forget my problems.

During that time we saw people helped and converted. We had baptisms of up to 120 people in one night. After a three-week Christmas outreach, we baptized 260 people.

Then Carol had to have a hysterectomy. There in the hospital, at her lowest moment, God ministered to her, and she wrote a song called, “He’s Been Faithful,” which of all of her songs has had the greatest impact on people.

That was a turning point for her.

How do you continue to “be of good courage” when you (or your family members) are in painful or dangerous circ*mstances?

Paul described himself as “Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing” (2 Cor. 6:10).

“Which were you, Paul?” we might say. “You can’t be both.”

But he was. Paul said, “Who doesn’t fall into sin and I don’t inwardly burn? Who’s not weak and I don’t feel weak?” Paul had an umbilical cord of divine empathy. He felt all these things, and yet it didn’t disrupt the faith at the center of his soul.

When we walk in the Spirit, we have a peace from God. But that doesn’t take away our grieving in another part of our being.

What role does our attitude play in staying connected with Christ’s power?

I once preached a message on the mark of the beast. Many came thinking I knew what the number 666 was about, which I am not totally clear about myself. I took the approach that the true “mark of the beast” is the real sin of Satan: his heart was lifted up with pride.

Satan lived in the power and presence of God, but then pride cut him off, and it will do the same to us.

Pride comes before all falls. It’s not the girl in the motel room that brings down a man, but his pride that cuts him off from the grace of God. Scripture doesn’t say God resists an alcoholic; it does say God resists the proud. He gives grace to the humble.

Humility is the key to experiencing God’s power. Andrew Murray, whose book Humility I try to read once a year, said humility is the root through which all other graces flow. Only as we go low can love and peace and joy flow.

Such humility comes from being with God, from fresh revelations of God and his Word. We need constant revelations of who God is and who we really are. In God’s presence we see how helpless we really are. In Isaiah 6, Isaiah saw the Lord high and lifted up, and he said, “Woe is me.”

Fresh experiences of the presence of God give a true dependence on God that isn’t based on some mental game we are playing.

How do you help people sense the presence of God in your preaching?

I was at a meeting where the preacher gave an outstanding message. I could tell God had dealt with him through this passage. When he finished his sermon, the congregation applauded, and it was quickly announced that a special luncheon would immediately begin in another room.

What! I thought. We’re leaving? After that sermon we’re going to go out and have a meal?

I’m up in the balcony thinking, God, I would almost jump off this balcony in order to have somebody pray for me. Let me call out to God. Let me ask God to forgive me for what I’ve been convicted of. Let me get to the throne of grace.

We truly lift up Jesus when our preaching leads people to call out to Jesus, when we point them to prayer and his personal dealing with their soul.

How can pastors transfer their passion for prayer to their people?

After our Tuesday night prayer meeting became the focus of our ministry, and people around the country heard about its impact, many pastors have come to observe it. Then they’ve gone home to try to start a similar meeting in their churches.

These pastors know that prayer is important, that God will answer any church that prays. They may preach a sermon on prayer and challenge everyone to come out, but their new prayer meeting is dead, cold, hard, and mechanical. Fewer and fewer people come each week, and then it dies.

Now these pastors feel doubly defeated.

That’s why I often recommend to pastors that they shouldn’t start a prayer meeting. Instead, change your Sunday service. Don’t preach so long, and when the sermon is over, invite those who feel touched by the Word to come forward. Get your staff and your most spiritual people around you and pray. What is an “altar service”? It’s a mini prayer meeting.

After you condition people to those mini prayer meetings for a few weeks or months and the spirit of prayer begins to take hold, you might say, “You know what, folks, we have a lot of needs: unsaved family members or wayward sons and daughters, financial difficulties, sickness. On Wednesday nights we’re going to begin meeting so we can pray specifically for these needs.”

You bridge to a prayer meeting from a strong altar service.

Prayer is a gift from the Holy Spirit that you can’t work up. So give God time to work in people’s hearts, and then after they’ve experienced the joy and power of prayer, you can build on it.

What saps the spiritual power and prayer life of a church?

Two scriptural warnings are very important in our church: Don’t quench the Holy Spirit, and don’t grieve the Holy Spirit. Christians can do things that hold back the Spirit’s work.

Whenever we receive new members into the church, my final charge to them is “Never slander or gossip about another member. If you ever hear somebody talking about a person not present, if you ever hear a critical word about a pastor of the church or a choir member or an usher, we charge and authorize you to stop that person in their tracks.

“Say to them, ‘Excuse me, has Pastor Cymbala hurt you? An usher hurt you? They’ll apologize. Come with me right now to the pastor’s office, or I’ll make an appointment for you. The pastor will bring whoever hurt you, and if necessary they’ll kneel before you and apologize. But we won’t permit talking behind their backs, slander, or gossip.’ “

We can’t be going to the prayer meeting and calling on God, “Lord, come in power!” and then during the week be grieving the Holy Spirit by gossip and phone calls. Of all the things that kill the Spirit’s power in churches, it’s talking.

In the midst of so much pain and need, how are you seeing the power of Christ help you minister to others?

At the end of one church service, a 50-ear-old, three-decade alcoholic named Victor walked forward to the altar area. I knew him fairly well. He lived in the parks.

His hair was matted, he’d been drinking. He had been in a fight with a cop and gotten hurt. The gauze on his hand was so filthy he would have been better off with none.

It was the end of our third Sunday service, and I was seated on the platform. I didn’t have the energy to get up to go to him, so I waved for him to come and sit beside me. As we were talking, I noticed a bulge in his ankle. I said, “Victor, what in the world . . .”

He pulled his pant leg higher, and his calf was so hideous I couldn’t look at it. It was like elephantitis.

“You’re going to die,” I said. “You’re going to die, Victor. You’re going to die!”

Victor just nodded.

I didn’t know what to do. So I held his hand and silently prayed, God, what do I do? I don’t even know how to pray. As I waited on God, I began to experience what Paul described: “I am again in the pains of childbirth until Christ is formed in you” (Gal. 4:19).

I began to weep, and then so did Victor. After we had sat holding hands and weeping for several minutes, I referred him to one of my associates. I never said a word in prayer.

But minutes later Victor committed his life to Christ, and he has never been the same. Somehow the truth we had told him so many times before about who Jesus was and what God could do finally got through to Victor. For the past three years now, he has worked for the church in the maintenance department.

If a church sincerely calls out to God week after week, “God, come and help us,” is it possible, is it feasible, that God will ignore that plea? I don’t think so. He’s drawn by that. His ear is always open to our cry.

Our prayers are an irresistible force. I’m not what I ought to be, our church isn’t all it should be, but there’s something about calling on God that changes everything.

Copyright © 1993 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

I served my first Communion a few months ago.

I’ve been no great leader in the church-my husband and I simply teach Sunday school. I’m a 33-year-old white woman with three children who usually can be found in the nursery. But my congregation, LaSalle Street Church, gave me a wonderful gift, one more among many-the gift of being a servant at the Lord’s Supper. And what a wonderful supper it is.

My first Sunday I was doing fine. Basically my head was filled with whether to move to the left or the right, when to sit, and memorizing my line, “Christ’s body broken for you . . . Christ’s body broken for you . . . Christ’s body broken for you . . .” I didn’t want to mess up.

But as I stepped forward to offer the bread to the first believer, one of our pastors, I felt I could empathize with John the Baptist: I had no business being here. But for God’s grace, that’s right.

And that was only the beginning. Person after person, believer after believer, my sisters, my brothers, a man with several days’ growth of beard who had no doubt spent the previous night in a shelter (at least I hope he had a shelter) . . . “Christ’s body broken for you” . . . then a couple I think of as “beautiful” people who might brunch in a cafe after church . . . “Christ’s body broken for you.”

Then a shaking hand, wrinkled and black; a white man in a business suit; a boy in his jeans and sweatshirt; an Asian couple and their friends; a bi-racial couple; a single mom and her young son taking his very first Communion; a Latino family, the daughters dressed in Sunday ruffles; a woman in professional clothes; a student with a kind face; a recently unemployed woman; a mom and dad with two children. “Christ’s body broken for you . . .and for you . . . and for you.”

As I held the bread and walked down the line, some tore away a whole chunk, others just a pinch. Some took the soft, fresh middle and others the tough, dry crust.

Some looked me right in the eyes. “Christ’s body broken for you.” Sometimes tears pooled, sometimes they spilled down.

Some took the bread as something very intimate. A few smiled broadly and said, “Hallelujah” or “Amen.”

I was overwhelmed. I’d always focused on my own heart at the Lord’s Table. But this time I saw a little bit more of how big God’s grace is-so free, so unconditional, offered in so many different ways to so many different people. By the third or fourth group, I managed to control my tears but not the change in my heart.

What a great God!

-Barb Shackelford

LaSalle Street Church

Chicago, Illinois

Leadership Fall 1993 p. 71

Copyright © 1993 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

When my wife’s Grandpa McDowell died, we drove from Iowa to Michigan for his funeral. The family had asked if I wanted to preach the message, but deciding I was too close to the situation, I declined. After all, I needed comforting, too. The McDowells had no church affiliation, so the funeral director recommended a minister in the area to officiate.

At the funeral, the speaker eulogized my wife’s grandpa in four minutes. He mentioned grandpa’s name only once in passing and read a “canned” prayer from a booklet. He certainly didn’t know Grandpa McDowell; that much was obvious.

As the family, we felt hollow, empty, cheated. Following the service, we gravitated toward the casket. My wife’s eyes portrayed an agony I had never seen before. Her eyes begged me to do something, anything.

I breathed a silent prayer and asked the family to gather in a circle. As we stood, arms intertwined in front of the casket, I spoke of Grandpa and what he meant to me. I mentioned the whitetail deer he shot out his kitchen window while drinking his morning coffee. I mentioned that he lied about his age to enter the military in World War I. In China during the war, he fought “our guys” with boxing gloves in a ring. Grandpa also held dozens of patents for his inventions, and he had traveled all over America collecting stones for his Rock Shop. With misty eyes I recalled how he had given me some of his tools. “Every man should have tools,” he had said. I acknowledged that I had the tools but still could not use them.

I spoke of our pain and loss, then of Jesus, who could heal our grief and give hope. I closed with prayer, and we left for the funeral dinner.

That day I learned personally of the comforting power of stories and the impact of personalized funerals.

Stories begin the healing

When I began Judy Phillips’s funeral, the funeral director went to his office to wait for the closing prayer. But after he heard the audience laugh, he slipped into the back of the auditorium to listen. I had included stories about pancakes, shoes, and meals for grain threshers. On the way to the cemetery, the funeral director mentioned how he enjoyed the stories about Judy.

If people are interested in the lives of others they have never met, how much more are they interested in stories of loved ones? After all, what do people talk about at funeral dinners? Stories and memories of the deceased are what they enjoy and what begins the healing process.

In The Grief Connection, Marjorie Gordon wrote about the loss of her 25-year-old son. She suggested sending stories to the grieving family to comfort them: “Write about a special moment. Like medicine for our broken hearts were the letters from Dave’s friends. Many were from people we hadn’t seen in several years. Some we have never met. Each searched to get our new address. Word pictures beginning, ‘I remember when Dave and I . . .’ recounted special moments that brought laughter and tears as we read them.”

When I have written such letters, I have found that sharing stories comforts the heart of the storyteller as much as the receiver.

Why are stories of the deceased so important to us? Perhaps because they are all we have left. We may still have the fishing pole that Grandpa gave us. Or the photographs of our vacations. Or Grandma’s rocking chair.

But these items are only important because of the memories they hold. The fishing rod reminds us of the summer day he gave it to us and how he loved fishing with his grandkids. The squeaking chair reminds us of Grandma rocking and singing us to sleep.

Stories help us move ahead

Stories of the deceased also guide us through the stages of grief.

When my Grandfather Atkins died, I found that preparing for the funeral helped me stumble through the first steps of healing. Recounting stories of family reunions moved me past the paralysis of shock. Sharing memories with loved ones at the “viewing times” before the casket confronted my denial.

Memories of his teasing the grandkids guided me as I dealt with sadness and depression. All the funeral activities-the visiting, the stories, the recollections, and the funeral sermon itself-confirmed my loss.

Before the funeral I knew intellectually he was gone. After the funeral I felt emotionally he was gone. The memories were still fresh; there was much healing ahead; but the funeral signaled to me it was time to move on.

The compassion, empathy, and relevancy of the funeral message will determine greatly how well I minister to the loved ones and how people feel about our church and its relationship with the community. I have found that few things help me to do this more effectively than the stories I tell for those who mourn.

-Kenn Filkins

Gilmore Church of Christ

Farwell, Michigan

Adapted by permission from Comfort Those Who Mourn, by Kenn Filkins (College Press, 1992).

Copyright © 1993 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

We are highlighting Leadership Journal's Top 40, the best articles of the journal's 36-year history. We will be presenting them in chronological order. Today we present #24, from 1983 and 1993.

* * *

The thought of resigning passes through most every pastor's mind, especially in times of conflict. The greater the pain, the more the thought nags us.

Leadership Journal first published this article in 1983, and it struck a deep emotional chord among readers. One wrote us, "I was ready to quit my church until I read Don Bubna's ten reasons not to. I decided to stay, and now, past the crisis, I'm glad I did. The article's timing was perfect."

"I was feeling a lot of pressure when I wrote that article," says Don Bubna, then pastor of Salem (Oregon) Alliance Church. The ten reasons helped him continue to minister for four more years in that church. Eventually, however, after twenty-three years at Salem, he moved to another church.

"Now, ten years later, the pressure on me and other pastors is only increasing," he says. "People have higher and higher expectations of their pastor. Today, handling pressure is what ministry is all about." The ten reasons have helped him "stay by the stuff" for the last five years.

"Today I feel as though I'd like to quit, take a leave of absence, resign from the world, or something." So begins a line in my journal, penned about a year ago. I had never felt so much under attack.

We had just received another turndown from a potential youth pastor. The church seemed to be on a plateau, the elders stuck on dead center. In a matter of a few days, a young man from our congregation who had recently gone to Africa was killed in an automobile accident. A missionary pilot from our fellowship had been attacked by South Pacific islanders with machetes and almost died. A retired missionary, our esteemed pastor of visitation, passed into the presence of the Lord after a very brief illness.

During this same period, I received four letters in one day marked "Personal." This kind of envelope seldom bears good news. One was a complaint from a long-time attender who felt I had gotten soft on the gospel. The person was leaving the congregation in order "to be fed" elsewhere. Another was the resignation of a staff member with whom I had served for more than two decades.

Under such an avalanche, I could not help reviewing the many reasons why the North American pastorate is becoming impossible. People now watch tele-Christendom's finest as they munch their sweet roll on Sunday morning, then drive to see how the local reverend compares, sans makeup and retakes. And the generation raised on Sesame Street wants something more appealing than thirty minutes of straight talking.

The pastor must also be an extraordinary counselor these days to battle the disintegration of the home and the lack of moral standards in the community.

He must be a strong leader, so that people will follow; yet his authority is frequently suspect, like anyone else's in public service. Still he is expected to produce a diversified ministry for all tastes and age groups so folks won't leave to go to the superchurch across town. He must be a change agent-but the changes must never be thought to edge away from biblical standards.

All this ran through my mind as I tallied the reasons to quit. Then, one day, I had a change of heart and began rummaging for reasons to stay. Gradually I reconvinced myself that I loved my work. Here's what I came up with:

1. I need to grow in the new demands I'm facing rather than find an excuse to cop out.

In twenty-three years of leading multiple staffs, I had experienced only two resignations from associates. Suddenly within a one-year period, three had decided to leave. Needless to say, some of this related to differences with my leadership style.

The last year has been uncomfortable for me-but a time of growth. I believe I'm now a more sensitive servant to the congregation.

I also identify more with pastors in trial. I'm one of them. It would have been a shame to miss the growth God had planned for my life simply because pressures were greater than I had ever felt.

Too often we leave and start over, basically repeating the same experiences.

2. I refuse to be guided only by my emotions.

There is nothing wrong with "feeling like resigning." Wise counselors tell us to listen to our emotions but not believe them. Subjectivity must run the gauntlet of objectivity. A move could be a good thing, but it needs to be made on the basis of truth about my own gifts.

Any active pastor will pump enough adrenalin on Sunday to cause a natural letdown or depression on Monday. I recently noticed that Mondays, which I have always taken off, tended to be "bad days." I felt worn out. I was cross with my family. I dwelt on problem areas and felt very unproductive.

Then I heard a counselor of many pastors say that from an adrenalin management standpoint, we would be much better off to make Monday a light working day and have our day off later in the week. I decided to alter my tradition.

Now I try to spend the first couple of hours Monday alone in devotions, reading and thinking. I then refine my schedule for the week, do my dictation, and spend the last part of the morning working with my secretary. This is often the only major block of time we have all week. Most of the staff is gone for the day, and the interruptions seem fewer.

I've learned not to take Monday breakfast meetings. I refuse to begin early with people. I try to limit my appointments to two.

Now I take Fridays off. My attitudes are much better with my wife, I feel less pressure for the whole week, and the break late in the week helps me store up for the heavy weekend.

3. My family needs love and stability.

Many moves tend to hurt children rather than help them. My wife was the daughter of a man who pastored numerous small churches throughout the Southwest. The moves were so painful to her that she has actually blocked many of them out of her mind.

Since part of my calling to ministry is my family, they have become a balance to the tendencies to move. The one move we did make while our children were growing up was decided in conjunction with them. I asked to bring my whole family along on the candidating visit. Our family prayed about the decision together, and all had a voice in it, even though the children were elementary and preschool at the time.

Children need a support system. They need a church body that loves and cares for them as individuals. Our congregation has shown unusual love and acceptance. If our children exhibited nonconformity at times, that has never been a problem to our leadership. Even if our children were to fail utterly, I believe our people would still love them.

Our son is not a great letter writer. But when he was overseas for almost a year, we were both surprised and pleased by the people in the congregation who reported hearing from him. He wrote not only his peers but also an old gentleman who had deeply touched his life and a middle-aged couple from whom he had sensed special support.

On the night stand in our youngest daughter's bedroom is the picture of a married couple in their seventies. They are not people of material means, but they have radiated a quality of life over the years that has made this young lady feel they are special friends.

4. Building people takes time.

I had arrived early to speak at a pastor's conference, and a young pastor was helping me set up the overhead projector. Suddenly he asked, "What are you going to try to sell us?"

He was convinced I was coming in to pitch some new technique for building a church. I told him I had come to teach and share out of my life, and that I had no gimmick.

I'm not a medicine man who comes to town to go through his bag of tricks and leave. God has called me to be a people builder. He can grow a squash in three months, but it takes years to build an oak. I want to be part of developing people, particularly leaders. I don't want simply to attract existing people from other churches.

I want to counsel couples and conduct their weddings, to dedicate their children, to see their family taught and grow to maturity. I want someday to counsel and conduct their children's marriages. I want to be a part of their time of sorrow when they lose loved ones. I want to be part of the whole process of building what is needed into the lives of people.

5. I want our missionaries to have a sense of permanence in their home church.

Missionaries give up a lot to go overseas. To live in another culture and minister as a church planter makes one feel cut off from home base. Repeated changes of pastor in the home church only add to that.

To see missionaries we have commissioned go out for a second or third term is very fulfilling. Not long ago a returning missionary said to me, "The longer I'm there, the more important a sense of tie to my home church gets." Recently another missionary referred to himself as "part of your overseas staff." That kind of togetherness takes maturing over the years.

6. A longer ministry better serves the church and community.

"Don, what's your view on abortion?" asked the newspaper reporter on the telephone. He was writing a feature article and wanted some local input.

"I know you're Pastor Bubna," said the lady in the supermarket. "I've been to your church and appreciate what it stands for."

"Ten years ago you conducted my uncle's funeral. I need to talk to someone. Can you help me?" asked a spouse in a struggling marriage.

To be seen as one of the senior ministers in the community increases one's responsibilities and opportunities to serve. The johnny-come-latelys are not called by the newspaper editors for opinions nor asked to serve on significant community boards.

7. The support of elders comes gradually.

In several different ways, word had come to me about a brother who was considerably disturbed about changes in our church. A visit to his home was revealing. He was deeply exercised by what he termed a lack of content in my preaching, an unbiblical emphasis on psychology, and even the sparse mention of the name of God and the person of Christ. Pretty heavy charges for an evangelical pastor!

With his consent, I phoned some respected elders. The man agreed to meet formally with them and present his charges. The loving way in which these mature men listened to his concerns, yet affirmed their pastor, displayed not a blind loyalty but a deep, watchful support.

This grows out of praying together as leaders. Many of the key persons in our church meet weekly with me in one of three or four prayer groups. An openness develops before God and with one another. This allows a free interchange and mutual, loving confrontation on issues.

The support I sense is not one of cheap words or resolutions written on paper. Rather, it is that we "stand firm in one spirit" (Phil. 1:27).

Short of being a one-man tyrant, any visionary pastor must have the support of his church's leadership. This does not mean they agree on everything. Rather, they are striving side by side for the faith of the gospel, and are not frightened by opposition (Phil. 1:27-28). It is not the lack of conflict that makes a great church, but how conflict is handled.

8. Our people have been generous with me.

My salary may not be what it would have been if I had stayed a school administrator or entered business. I may not even make the salary of some of my peers. But I have always been given a livable wage.

Perhaps more important, our congregation has always been generous in giving vacation time. Our elder board has consistently urged that my wife and I take quarterly study breaks, extended times of preparation and togetherness. Their sensing these as urgent helps me.

Our leadership has also encouraged my extended ministry as a lecturer in colleges and seminaries, as a workshop leader for pastors and for missionary groups around the world. This generosity has inevitably enriched my own ministry. I never return without receiving more than I gave.

9. I must not avoid confession and forgiveness.

One day when I told the staff I had a special announcement to make, the coffee cups came down on the table. "You are all aware," I said, "that we've been under some special stresses lately. I've come to understand that I have not handled these as well as I should, and I want to ask your forgiveness."

A momentary silence followed. Then one associate said, "Don, we accept that. You are forgiven, and you are loved. Thank you for being vulnerable."

I have made my share of blunders over the years.

I've needed to ask forgiveness from fellow staff members, elders, and even the congregation at times. Some of the other leaders have themselves been guilty of a few blunders. I need to learn to extend forgiveness to them. To leave the church because sin has not been dealt with is to contribute to the immaturity of the body and deny the process of learning to be a confessing fellowship.

10. I can trust God and not panic.

God has this congregation's welfare in mind as well as mine and my family's.

I don't have to find an immediate solution to every problem or pressure. God wants me to develop a sense of trust, of perseverance, of waiting before him. Staying here facilitates this. Leaving too soon would only prevent me from learning some of the most precious lessons God wants to teach.

My feelings over the past year have risen and fallen with my circ*mstances, or what I perceived my circ*mstances to be. Many a time I've had to exercise my will, choosing to take my eyes off things and people and place them on the God who does not change.

Not very long ago, I experienced one of those unforgettable weekends. On Saturday I received a harsh letter from a family who was resigning from membership. They admitted being bitter. They saw their action as the only way to protest the lack of action by a leader in our denomination.

On Sunday, a special children's presentation to the senior citizens "bombed out." The lay leader was embarrassed. The children had tried hard, but some interpreted their presentation as a lack of the right kind of training.

On Monday, I received a critical letter from a colleague I greatly admire. The wounds of a friend sting.

I am glad weekends like that are not common, but they do happen to all of us. Nevertheless, because I believe I'm God's person and have the support of my family and our elders, I have chosen "to stay by the stuff." To contribute to the church, the people of God, is to be a part of the only thing that is going to last for eternity.

God is interested in what is happening to me as a person. He has my maturity in mind as well as that of his whole church. All of these pressures are part of the process. I need to expect them but not be overcome by them.

Someday the time may come for me to move. I only want to be patient enough for God to do his work in me and not spoil it by rushing too quickly elsewhere.

Copyright © 1993 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

TRUSTING THE SERMON TO CHILDREN

On a dark and stormy Sunday morning, Pastor Charles Smith looked out at his congregation and almost fainted. The children were actually paying attention. He knew it wasn’t just his eloquence. He suspected that Deborah Byrne’s plan to involve children in the worship service was working.

Deborah, a volunteer in the church, creates special worship bulletins for children ages 7 and up. Recently introduced at Maplegrove Alliance Church in Chesterton, Ohio, the bulletins grab the interest of children and help them better understand the sermon and worship service.

Each week Pastor Smith gives Deborah his plans for the next Sunday: sermon outline, notes, the order of worship, hymns, and Scripture references. Deborah tries to design a worship aid simple enough for 7-year-olds and yet challenging and/or funny enough for the older children.

Each bulletin is four pages with a cover sketch on the sermon’s theme. The children read the same order of worship as adults, but each section is enhanced with points of interest: word lists, fill-in-the-blanks, rhymes, multiple choice exercises, and questions about the sermon. Different levels of humor are included in the bulletin to appeal to all ages. (Many adults take one for themselves!) Here are a few examples.

Hymns

When Morning Gilds the Skies.

“Gild” means to cover with GOLD! Did you ever see an early morning sky that looked like gold? Sometimes the morning sun makes the sky and trees look golden. When the writer of this song woke up and looked outside, what words did his heart sing?

“_____Jesus Christ ________.”

When do you feel like praising God?

? Early in the morning

? When you are with your family

? When your homework is done

? When you see a sunset

Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise.

Match these words with their meanings about God.

Immortal Always awake and alert

Invisible Never will die

Unresting Never in a hurry

Unhasting We cannot see him

Circle the word you like best.

Offering

If you had $1,000 in your sock this morning, what would be the BEST thing to do with it?

? Spray the money with air freshener then put it in the offering.

? Give LOTS of money in the offering.

? Keep it all and spend it on things that make you happy – for a little while.

If you have a lot less cash stashed in your pocket, purse, or sock, what would be the BEST thing to do with it?

Sermon

Topic: Lost in God-Ezekiel 47:1-6. The Scripture in Ezekiel is about (water, wine, holy oil)

Have you ever walked in a little stream? Water around your ankles isn’t very frightening is it? Have you ever taken a stroll in a raging river? How would you feel about that water?

? I’d rather be cleaning the garage.

? I’d rather be in math class.

? Ai-e-e-e-e-e! Get me out of here!

God has created the river of life. Our life in God starts small.

Ankle deep: the water moves faster. You are still in control.

Knee deep: The current is strong, but you can go where you choose.

Waist deep: The water moves rapidly. Can you go where you like?

? Yes ? No

(If you said yes, you are all wet.)

The Mighty River

Who’s in charge here?

What direction do you go?

Can you chicken out and turn back?

? Yes ? No

(If you said yes, you’re in for a big surprise.)

The River of Life

God has created the river of life and he calls us to:

? Get our pink toes wet

? Get our skinny ankles splashed

? Get our knobby knees irrigated

? Get our waists watered

? Get our lives saturated, soaked, and sopping

God wants us to jump into life in the Spirit. That means out of your own control, and into God’s control! Are you ready?

FAMILY PRAYER GUIDE

The Christian Church of Clarendon Hills (Illinois) produces a daily devotional guide with material written/collected by members of the congregation.

The first issue was “potluck,” filled with a cross-section of favorite verses and homespun inspiration. Now, the editors, with the help of family-life minister Lauren Girdwood, choose themes and Scripture three months ahead to avoid duplication and redundancy. Sixty-nine people have contributed to the contents.

Authors from the congregation are given two to four weeks to prepare devotional material, and volunteers have a month to edit, type, and print the booklet that now has both regular and large-print editions.

For this congregation averaging 250 in worship, they print 90 copies and distribute them on the Sunday before the first of each month.

Informal surveys show that both users and preparers have a sense of ownership and pride in the guide. No other devotional effort has produced such a lasting impact in the lives of this congregation.

COLOR YOUR WORLD

To acquaint children and their parents with church life and to help newcomers feel at home, Federated Church of Ashland (Massachusetts) periodically distributes a 20-page coloring book for children. Developed by the Christian education staff and talented volunteer artists, each page contains a sketch of a church activity and a simple explanation. On the front cover is a sketch of the church building, and the inside back cover gives the child a pattern to follow in praying. In between are pages of pictures to be colored, including the dedication of an infant, a child’s celebration of the church year, preparation for formal membership, and participation in the senior high fellowship.

The text that accompanies the pictures provides space for children to write in details unique to themselves. It contains the names and sketches of real people within the church.

The church keeps cost down by copying pages in black and white and using an inexpensive spiral binder.

Initially the church presented coloring books to all children through grade four, but now they are given to each new child who begins attending the church. Both children and parents have received the coloring books with enthusiasm.

BEGIN AT THE BEGINNING

The two women who came to the pastor’s study were not aware that statistics show an increase in spiritual receptivity often accompanies the birth of a child. The two only knew that as new mothers they had found support in weekly get-togethers and felt they wanted to encourage other new mothers.

Their plan was to congratulate new parents in the community by sending a gift from the church and then inviting the mothers to be part of a Moms & Tots group. Pastor Gary Keisling of The Alliance Church in Bryan, Ohio, shared their enthusiasm for the idea.

Since most new parents are bombarded by salesmen as soon as the birth announcement appears, these women wanted a way to stand apart from the crowd. They chose the poem “Children Learn What They Live,” which describes the formative influence of parents while stressing the value of the child. Copies of the poem were printed on high quality paper and matted. They would slip easily into a frame, reminding parents of the trust committed to them by the Lord.

The women gathered a list of new parents from newspaper announcements and from members of the church. The gift went into the mail along with a personalized congratulatory letter from the church. Within a few days thank you notes began arriving at the church.

A week later, the women began brief telephone calls to gift recipients. They described the support group ministry the church was offering to new mothers. About 20 percent of the time, the family attended another church. Nearly 25 percent of the mothers expressed appreciation but said they were too busy to get involved. More than 50 percent expressed a desire to receive a brochure describing the support group.

The brochure posed the question, “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a meaningful conversation with other adults who understand the challenges you face?” Information about the church, a description of the informal program for mothers, and information about childcare for toddlers gave a complete picture of the monthly meetings.

A few days after the brochure was mailed, each mom received a phone call from one of the church women to answer questions and extend a personal invitation to participate in Moms & Tots. Fifty percent of those called indicated they would like to come to such a group.

Month after month the level of participation remained strong. Coffee, tea, juice, fruit, and rolls got the meetings off to an informal start. A display of books and magazines dealing with parenting and family concerns was available.

The focus each month was to identify needs and respond. Sessions were conversational with staff members answering questions from attenders.

Many of the participants were nonchurched, and about 25 percent of them became involved in other church ministries. Several families enrolled their older children in summer activities. A Sunday morning class designed to address the challenges of parenting had a good response from Moms & Tots participants.

Over the years, families have moved in and out of the ministry as they came and went in the community. Among those departing was one of the women who had begun the Moms & Tots program. She took with her the seeds of ministry and planted them again in her new location. The remaining families continued the ministry for those passing through and for those whose children eventually have grown up to be part of the church.

What’s Worked for You?

Can you tell us about a program or activity that worked well in your church?

LEADERSHIP pays $35 to $50 (depending upon length) for each published account of fresh and effective ministry. Send your description of a helpful ministry, method, or approach to

Ideas That Work

LEADERSHIP

465 Gundersen Drive

Carol Stream, IL 60188

118 SUMMER/93

Copyright © 1993 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Christian leaders throughout history have found their character tested. How do I respond to a divided community or to those who oppose me? How strict should I be with those under my care? When should I correct and when should I forebear?

In the year 1256, these questions faced the newly selected governor-general of the Franciscans, a 36-year-old named Bonaventure. At the time, the movement begun by St. Francis was torn by dissension between those insisting on the austere discipline of St. Francis’s original rule and those seeking innovations. Under Bonaventure’s leadership, the order not only survived, but harmony was restored, and Bonaventure became known as “the second founder of the Franciscans.”

Bonaventure identified six virtues essential for Christian leaders: zeal for righteousness, brotherly love, patience, good example, good judgment, and devotion to God. He called these The Six Wings of the Seraph, the treatise from which this article is condensed.

While Bonaventure (1221-1274) lived in medieval times and wrote to heads of monastic communities, his insights are remarkably apt for today’s pastors.

To keep the interior of the temple clean, there had to be a roof to bear dust, rain, and gusts of wind. In the same way, leaders faithfully defend those under their headship from the storms of sin.

To do so, they must often expose themselves to the force of various adversities, as a mother hen will battle a bird of prey to protect her children.

Patience in Stress and Disappointment

The head needs a great deal of patience. There are three principal reasons.

First, many responsibilities, time-consuming activities, and fatiguing tasks demand his attention. For he is responsible for both the spiritual and physical welfare of the members of the community. We see that Paul was anxious to meet not only the spiritual, but also the temporal needs of the faithful, especially of the poor: “James and Cephas and John … would have us remember the poor, which very thing I was eager to do” (Gal. 2:9-10). The Lord himself fed those who had received the word of salvation with ordinary bread that they needed but could not obtain (Mark 6:35-44; 8:1-10).

The many time-consuming activities of headship derive from both the community’s internal concerns and its dealings with the outside. To some extent, a head must take thought for these things even if it causes him anxiety, for he is the person responsible for them.

A head also needs patience when he sees how little he gets for all his labor. Even though he wears himself out, he will not see much spiritual growth in the community. He may try many things and finally, after much labor, find the people under him beginning to improve a little. But so many obstacles stand in the way of spiritual progress that they will easily be delayed again. A head may be tempted to despair of ever seeing a return for his labors; he is like a farmer who sows much but reaps a poor harvest (Hag. 1:6).

Evil Disguised as Good

Often he will find evil conduct stealing into the community under the appearance of good. Something will appear to be good, so that he dares not denounce it as evil, but in reality it destroys some greater good and opens the door for more obvious evils.

For example, a sincere desire to save many souls may lead a monastic community to accept more members than it can properly manage. That very multiplication of its numbers then hinders the community’s observance of poverty. More of the members will want to enjoy more good things rather than live simply. From that follow more frequent business dealings to acquire the necessities of life. Soon the community is trying unusual methods for raising money and accepting gifts that the rule [policies for the Franciscan order] prohibits.

Thus, the peace of a devout life disappears, while the community’s religious standards lie neglected. The members begin aimlessly traveling around, hunting out various provisions for the flesh. They enter relationships prohibited by the rule; they look for gifts from those who seek their advice; they curry favor with the rich. They give up tasks that would strengthen other Christians in return for opportunities to beg. They expand their properties, build sumptuous residences, but do not cure scandals. Such activities crush the honor of God underfoot-that honor which a community ought to advance by its holy conduct and the inspiration it gives to its neighbors.

A similar abuse occurs when young men, and men whose virtue has not been seriously tested, are prematurely ordained or given responsibility for community leadership, preaching, and counseling.

In short, many things can be done that look good to human opinion, but actually stain our once pure interior devotion to God. Some people in the community, being dull and imperceptive about the interior life, may even suppose that all the power of a spiritual way of life lies in the external appearance of greatness. Accordingly, they defend such practices with great zeal, while neglecting true virtues and genuinely spiritual matters.

These and similar abuses will cause a spirit-filled head profound disappointment and pain. Since he is unable to correct all these problems even though he longs to do so, he has great need of patience. “My zeal consumes me. … Zeal for thy house has consumed me” (Ps. 119:139; Ps. 69:9).

Bearing the Ungrateful

A third reason why a head needs patience is the ungratefulness of those he works and cares for. His charges are scarcely ever satisfied with him; rather, they always feel put upon, because they are sure that he could do things differently, and better, if he wished. Often one is perplexed, not knowing whether to yield to their constant demands and allow everything they want, or to hold firmly to the course of action that one believes will do more good.

Many things that a head does are twisted by his people and given a bad interpretation. They murmur at his decisions, make accusations against him, reveal his faults, and derive matter for scandal from things that he did out of a sense of duty to God and to them.

It is almost impossible to escape the fact that whatever one determines or does, it will upset some of the brethren. Some will go so far as to resist their head to his face or argue with him in writing. They scorn him and rouse others to oppose him, or else find clever ways to keep him from fulfilling his duties.

Persistent Peacemaking

To stand up against these conflicts, and others which will confront him, a head needs a shield of patience. First, he must know how to answer everyone modestly, maturely, and kindly, so that he can stop overheated attacks without showing impatience in his speech or expression-without, in fact, even developing an impatient outlook. His patience will gain him more ground, and finally win over those who would only be further provoked by impetuous action.

Second, a head of a community should try to be a peacemaker. He should not avenge injuries done to him, nor hate those who inflict the injuries, nor hesitate to work for their cure. He should be glad to keep ungrateful persons in the community, for he will strengthen both these and other members by so doing good to them. He himself will grow in virtue through such persons, as our supreme Shepherd says: “You will be sons of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the selfish” (Luke 6:35).

Leaders should not try to separate such people from themselves. It is, after all, the shepherd’s chief duty to teach virtuous living. What good will it do to remove from his care the very people who most need his help? If the doctor runs away from the sick, who will heal them? If a soldier shuns the attack, how will he taste victory? If a businessman neglects the deals which offer most profit, how will he get rich? This is the reason why many bishops, pastors, and religious superiors become saints: the nature of their duties gives them opportunity to do much good, to suffer many adversities, and to lead others to the heights of perfection. “If any one aspires to the office of bishop, he desires a noble task” (1 Tim. 3: 1).

Advantages of Adversity

Adversity protects one from the swelling of pride, which is more insidious for those in authority. The high position, the extent of one’s freedom and the gratification of doing good work might easily make one proud. But the yoke of adversity bows down the neck of presumption, and thus defends the head from the yawning gulf of pride.

A good head’s own salvation and spiritual progress are protected by humbling adversity; without it, success would lift him up on the wind of presumption. David, a man after God’s own heart, was humble and very fervent as long as he was hard pressed by trouble: “It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn thy statutes” (Ps. 119:71). But when prosperity raised him up, he fell into sin.

A head’s holiness, therefore, increases through both the good he does and the evil he suffers. It is glorious to do good and to inspire others to do good. To suffer adversities leads to a magnificent crown, as gold that is tried in the fire becomes more beautiful and more precious.

In fact, spiritual progress is often made when one does not feel the increase, and one is strengthened while seeming to grow more infirm. “The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed upon the ground, and should sleep and rise night and day, and the seed should sprout and grow, he knows not how” (Mark 4:26-27).

It is little wonder that not all the head’s efforts lead to profit for everyone; even God, who works in all men, does not succeed in bringing about the salvation of every human being. “Many are called, but few are chosen” (Matt. 22:14). Not every seed that is sown comes to fruition, and those who dig for treasure willingly tear up large tracts of land to find a little gold and silver. The true effect of a good head can be measured by the amount of harm that would befall the community without him. Headship is like light, so good to have that its mere absence is an evil.

This truth should encourage the one over a community to bear up under his work load, for he serves God just as faithfully in giving headship to those who make little or no progress as in giving it to those who do the best. “Each shall receive his wages according to his labour. … [It is] only God who gives the growth” (1 Cor. 3:8; 3:7). Just as goods that are much harder to make sell for more, so too a teacher works harder with a pupil who will not learn than with one who will, and to a just judge, his labor is more meritorious.

Copyright © 1993 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Community Research You Can Use-Free

Successful church planning responds to the needs and opportunities in a local community. The Census Bureau offers statistics that reveal what some of those needs might be, and the information is free.

During 1993, the U.S. Census Bureau is releasing data gathered during the 1990 census. More than ninety characteristics of residents’ income, age, race, sex, homes, and mobility are grouped by census tracts (neighborhood-size urban areas or subdivisions of rural counties).

At least one library in each congressional district, usually a university or large public library, is a “federal repository library,” which will provide this information to anyone who requests it.

Most libraries have the census data in printed form. Federal repository libraries also have tract data on computer disks called CD-ROM. With this technology, the data is more accessible and can easily be printed out.

Family composition information, for example, can provide clues to which ministries should be launched. Questions like Is the community getting older or younger? Who in the family works-one adult or two? and Do most households have two parents or one? can be quickly answered.

A sample tract from Baltimore, Maryland, is shown in Tables 1 through 3.

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Table 1 shows this area has many preschool and elementary school children but few teenagers. A church daycare or preschool might be a ministry that would attract families in this community. The low number of teenagers suggests that an extensive youth program might not be productive. Another interesting observation in this table is the many children living in single-parent homes headed by a female.

One church in Bethesda, Maryland, used demographic information to call another staff person. At first, the parish thought they needed a minister to serve senior citizens. But the demographics of their neighborhood revealed a large number of adults in the 30- to 40-year range and a declining number of 60- to 70-year-olds. Without the census information, the parish would have missed serving a large slice of its community.

Income data provides clues to the giving potential of the parish and can be used to price church-sponsored events so desirable activities won’t be too expensive for area households.

Table 2 shows over 500 households in the area earning less than $12,500. Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in Olney, Maryland, discovered that in spite of its location in one of the most affluent counties in the country, a surprising number of low-income families lived in the community. Pastor Donald Schaefer believes his congregation’s awareness of this information increased their commitment to social ministries.

Information such as average travel time to work might appear to be unrelated to church activities. But in areas with long commutes, church activities must start later on work nights for maximum attendance. Long commutes also limit volunteer time. This lack of volunteer time could translate into hiring lawn services and other maintenance rather than using volunteers.

The census also provides information on mobility. Table 3 shows how many households in the tract moved there since 1985. This suggests the importance of outreach to new residents. Many of the moves were nearby, within the same county or within the state. But over 400 people moved into the tract from another state, probably having few ties to the community. These families represent a significant block of potential members with specific needs for relationships.

Census information does not make future projections. Projections of population, land use, and zoning as indicators of future trends can usually be acquired from local government planning boards or school districts. This, along with the census data, can only improve the effectiveness of local church ministry.

-Ted Kruse

Baltimore, Maryland

Invasion of Kindness

On a Friday evening, the staff of Vineyard Christian Fellowship of Cincinnati noticed that holiday traffic was backed up for almost a mile at the corner by their church. Pastor Steve Sjogren and his Kindness Squad swung into action. They iced down 400 cans of soft drink, and as cars stopped at the stop sign, the drivers were offered free drinks.

“Why are you doing this?” drivers asked.

“Because God loves you,” the squad members responded.

This was not the squad’s first act of kindness. Earlier a free car wash allowed them to wash forty cars and pray with almost every driver. Most drivers wouldn’t believe it was free and offered to pay.

The squads have used more than forty creative outreaches in the last six years-free lawn care, offering batteries for smoke detectors and returning a year later to replace them, free Christmas gift wrapping at a local mall, giving out free coffee at grocery stores, taking pictures of families in the park, cleaning restrooms in restaurants and filling stations, and washing windshields on parked cars.

The smiling do-gooders are always asked, “Why?”

Sjogren got the idea for the kindness squad while people-watching in a shopping mall. Most people seemed to be experiencing a significant level of pain. But he had found them skeptical of an aggressive approach to Christian witnessing.

Many Christians, believes Sjogren, are guilt-ridden when pressured to do evangelism. The kindness squad’s activities are less threatening to both the squad members and to the individuals receiving the kindness.

Organized through the church’s small group ministry, the acts of kindness raised the church’s level of visibility in the community. The soft drink give-away was reported on a local radio station’s evening traffic report. When a squad hands out coffee, they may hand out brochures about their church. A note is left under the windshield wiper by the washers. The photos of families in the park have a sticker on the back with the church’s address and phone number.

Sjogren says, “Last year alone we touched over 60,000 people in our community and gave opportunity for low-risk outreach training to many in our fellowship.”

What’s Worked for You?

Can you tell us about a program or activity that worked well in your church?

Leadership pays $35 to $50 (depending upon length) for each published account of fresh and effective ministry.

Send your description of a helpful ministry, method, or approach to

Ideas That Work

LEADERSHIP

465 Gundersen Drive

Carol Stream, IL 60188

Copyright © 1993 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.

Ten years ago, I stood at my ordination reception, shaking hands with the well-wishers. Near the end of the long line, a church elder congratulated me. Then, he stooped to greet my 4-year-old daughter, whose hand I held.

“Do you know what we’re celebrating, today, Kelly?” he asked.

“Today is the day they make my daddy king,” she replied.

We laughed. However, I glowed inwardly. She voiced what may have been close to my ministry expectations.

I’ll be liked by people, I thought during my years of ministry preparation. They’ll be grateful for my help; they’ll rise up and call me blessed.

My upbringing reinforced my beliefs: my father was a Christian college professor, my brother a youth pastor, and my brother-in-law a pastor. Ministry was elevated above all other careers. Certainly God would be pleased that I had not chosen another calling.

In the midst of my euphoria, though, I heard the whisper of a subtle fear: What if they rise up, not to bless me, but to leave me? What if I fail? What if my performance doesn’t please God?

I ignored my whispered fear. It was drowned out in the clamor of pursuing the dream.

Knocking Off My Battery

Eight years after my ordination, I sat in the office of a good friend who had gone into counseling. Recalling his seminary training, I asked, “Have you ever thought seriously about becoming a pastor, Dan?”

“I would rather be stripped naked, tied down in a field, covered with honey, and devoured by red ants,” he shot back.

We laughed. Inside, however, I wasn’t laughing. The dreams about being king had long ago evaporated. I wondered if Dan’s red-ant option wasn’t more attractive than what I had experienced.

The gauge on my emotional tank showed empty. I was running on fumes. I couldn’t service the endless line of people in my congregation needing my expertise. I was like Robert Conrad in the old Eveready(r) commercial, daring the church members to knock my battery off my shoulder.

They did.

But I kept putting the battery back on. When someone said this or that had to get done, I volunteered, “Fine, I’ll do it.” I seldom completed the jobs I started, however, because I’d be busy taking on new assignments. People-pleasing became my calling.

And now I was angry. It was a sophisticated anger, of course. Few suspected it. The ones who felt it the most-my wife and three daughters-deserved it the least. I could walk out of a board meeting unruffled, even though I had just been ordered to tackle another impossible task or had been criticized for not meeting someone’s expectation. I’d smile and shove my emotions just beneath the surface.

Until I got home. Then I’d blow my stack over my daughters’ ordinary requests. I lumped their normal daddy-needs together with the extraordinary church-needs I couldn’t fulfill. The only difference was that at home I could get away with expressing my anger-at least that’s what I believed.

Toward my wife, however, my anger took another form: Passivity.

On one occasion, Suzi and I mistakenly asked a counselor friend what he thought of us as a couple.

“Really?” Larry asked.

“Yep.”

“Well, okay. Jim, you’re a passive wimp. And Suzi, you’re a piranha.”

I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Maybe you’re right.”

Suzi snapped, “I hate your guts.”

With an impish grin, Larry said, “Am I right?”

Suzi and I laughed about it later.

Larry was right, at least on one account. I was passionless. At church I could initiate, react, and pour my energies into the ministry. I’d spend hour after hour laboring over the church budget but leave our personal finances looking like a five-car pile-up. I would take my day off to paint a room at the church but never finish any project at home.

When Suzi confronted me, I replied, “Fine, I’ll do it.” I would never say no, but my standard line became sort of a twisted joke. My passivity was a quiet refusal to meet her needs, a refusal to get emotionally involved in her life. Home was a place where I didn’t have to play a role. And it almost cost me my marriage.

The leak was slow. Suzi and I had enough good moments together that we never got to the point of desperation. As a result, we never worked on the problem. But still I was afraid Suzi would eventually see me as I really was, and then she would want out. Our marriage slowly sagged.

Questions Nobody Asked

I was tired, weary of people running my life. Little things bothered me. One parishioner told me I offended him because I crossed my legs too informally on the platform. Even the familiar joke took its toll: “Hey, Jimbo, how does it fee to work one day a week?”

And when things got tough at church, I heard, “You deal with it, Jim. That’s why we pay you the big bucks.”

Right, I thought angrily, if the bucks are so big, then why does my wife have to work? And why is there never enough money to go around?

When the church grew, I moped. It just meant more people to service. In my eight years as pastor, the congregation had doubled. We added staff. Our giving to missions tripled. But it didn’t move me.

I was prepared, though, to answer all the right questions. If you had asked me how my ministry was going, I would have replied, “Great. God is blessing in tremendous ways.” And if you asked me about last Sunday, I could say, “Our giving is up, and the attendance just keeps climbing.”

What more was there?

But there were other questions I was terrified someone would ask: How are you doing? Are you loving God more this week? How are you loving your wife? Your daughters?

A Temporary Escape

In just a few years, I had switched from feeling like a king to preferring the honey and red ants. I yearned for a way out. Then three years ago, adrift in ministry, I found one; I finagled a two-month sabbatical. After thirteen years at the church-five as youth pastor and eight as senior pastor-I decided I had to get away. I was exhausted. The pressure was destroying my family.

I told the board about my two month get-away (not asking for their permission) and handed them a plan to tide them over until I returned. I was prepared for every possible “What about . . .” To me, the thought of time away from the church was like someone telling a delinquent taxpayer he no longer owed the IRS.

When the board rubber-stamped my proposal, I headed for a January in Colorado.

I chose Colorado because I knew of a Christian counselor who specialized in ministering to church burnouts like myself. Blowing off steam to a counselor will be good for me, I thought. He’ll be sympathetic to the pressures and frustrations of local church ministry.

I wanted my giftedness to be affirmed. I wanted ten easy steps to master my ministry, a formula that would allow me to perform, both at church and home.

Colorado didn’t turn out to be a hiding place, however. My counselor confronted me with my belief system-what originally propelled me into the ministry and what had kept me afloat for so many years?

“We need to focus on you, first,” he said. “We’ll talk about the ministry later.”

The Subtle Self-Protection

That began a painful journey into the dark recesses of my soul, a probing beneath my smooth exterior. In the following days, anger and hurt spewed forth. Emotions I wanted to keep buried suddenly erupted.

I was forced to face myself and admit that I had developed sinful patterns of defensive behavior. I was consumed with trying to protect my image and taking care of myself. I thought if I could please my congregation, they, in turn, would meet my needs for approval. What I wanted most was acceptance. If I performed well at church, I thought, then I would be liked. Ultimately I secretly hoped that would translate into God’s acceptance.

I refused to allow God to be responsible for my life and to meet my needs. Frankly, I had no need of him-mostly, I suspect, because I didn’t trust him.

As my counselor confronted me in love, God began a new work in me. Later Suzi flew out to be with me, and our marriage turned a corner. We returned home several weeks later, spending the rest of my sabbatical coming to grips with the fine print of my new lease on ministry and family life.

But the healing process proved to be painful. When I returned to Charlotte, I was anxious to share with friends what God had shown me. Over lunch one afternoon, I met with three close friends and relayed my new discoveries. I confessed that I had been preoccupied with how the ministry appeared and apologized for manipulating them to make me feel good. I asked for the chance to change.

“Now that you mention it,” one of them replied, “I always felt you were more interested in how I performed in ministry than about me personally.”

The other two nodded.

With two of them, I didn’t get a second chance. One whom I considered a close friend distanced himself from me. When I’d ask if something was wrong, he’d reply, “Nope, everything’s fine on this end.” But every gentle probe produced a polite but walled response. I tried calling him to set up another breakfast or lunch, but he didn’t return my phone calls. He vanished from my circle of friends.

I told myself, I don’t care about this relationship. I don’t need you. But it wasn’t true. I was more angry than ever.

After my time in Colorado, I hoped others would appreciate my newfound revelations and be quick to help me work on them. I couldn’t understand his brick-wall response.

Losing that friendship drove home to me the shallowness of my church relationships. I had let people get only so close to me. I drew them in when I serviced their needs. When I stopped trying to please, many of these relationships ended.

Slowly and painfully, God opened my eyes to these new signs of my sin of self-protection. I had to relearn a basic principle of ministry: give without thought of receiving. That’s ministry. I’d have to trust God for my own security.

God’s Search and Rescue

Part of my metamorphosis allowed me to let God examine my motives for ministry. Jeremiah 31:3-6 took on new meaning for me: “The Lord appeared to us in the past, saying: ‘I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with lovingkindness.’ “

For so many years, I viewed God as a strict and critical father who didn’t like the way his son cleaned the family car, wore his hair or lived his life. Nothing I did was good enough. As a result, I served my church people in an attempt to receive the affirmation and strokes my twisted relationship with God could never supply.

Part of my healing helped me come to grips with God’s perfect and permanent relationship with me. I’m still in process. Looking back, I can now admit I entered the ministry for wrong reasons.

Two years ago, Suzi and I rented the movie, “Field of Dreams.” After viewing it, I began sobbing uncontrollably. My outburst of tears bothered me. Why am I crying? I thought, annoyed. It wasn’t that great a movie.

Then it hit me: I was wishing I had pursued my love for baseball. Years earlier, I quit hurling fastballs and sliders so I could attend a Christian college and pursue a vocation in ministry. I realized my original call to ministry wasn’t a burning passion to advance God’s kingdom, but instead was an attempt to please God by giving up something I enjoyed for what I believed was a higher calling. I hoped my sacrifice would finally give me the “Great job, Jim” I’d always longed for.

That revelation gave me the liberty to reexamine my motives to minister. In doing so, I had to say, “I am free to leave the ministry. God is okay with that, and so am I.”

But I didn’t handle that revelation wisely. In an unguarded moment, I shared my new freedom with my church board. Their return stares communicated clearly what they were thinking: We spent all that money on your sabbatical so you could discover you don’t have to be our pastor?

I quickly reassured them of my commitment to them and the church.

Rebuilding the Engine

Instead of weakening my resolve to minister, allowing God to search my motives has made what I do all the more satisfying. Jeremiah says, “I will build you up again and you will be rebuilt, O Virgin Israel. Again you will take up your tambourines and go out to dance with the joyful.”

I see a parallel to my own calling. And though ministry hasn’t changed-I still struggle to set limits and trust God to meet my needs-God is rebuilding my call to ministry for the second half of my life. I now see my call in four ways.

It includes God’s love for me. I have a clearer understanding of God’s committed love for me. Consequently, I have a clearer sense of my call, which helps me to sort out my tasks from the tasks of others. Recently in a board meeting, when tempted to accept another responsibility I knew I couldn’t fulfill, I replied, “Let’s find someone who is gifted to organize that event. My plate is full.” I’m making strides to do what fulfills God’s calling rather than reacting to each brush fire in the church. This often means saying no to others’ requests and yes to what I perceive to be the most important.

It provides new energy. A serendipity of my journey has been a fresh passion to serve. Determined not to dodge my fears by filling my life with busyness, I’ve curtailed some areas of my ministry while plunging myself into others. For the first time in fifteen years of ministry, I’m actually focusing on my areas of giftedness.

Shortly after my sabbatical, I began meeting with ten men on Saturday mornings. Initially, I desired to communicate to them what God was doing in my heart. Out of my willingness to bare my soul has grown a ministry to men who are learning to confess their secrets to each other. God has given me the passion and giftedness to relate to these men. Without a doubt it is the most satisfying part of what I do.

It provides contentment. My friend who once described me as a wimp visited last October. “Jim,” he said, “you look more settled than I’ve ever seen you before.”

And I am. My days are not cloudless, but God has granted me his peace. My inner turmoil is losing its power. I don’t need to know whether or not I could have stepped to the pitcher’s mound at Yankee Stadium. I am content with my life’s work as a pastor.

It encourages a more committed life. For years, Suzi complained about our personal finances. I was consistently late paying our bills and never worked from a budget. My neglect put us into a deep hole. I finally decided that if I ever wanted the problem solved, I would have to take responsibility for my own actions. Recently I enrolled for financial counseling.

My new understanding of my calling means renewing my commitment to all aspects of my home life, including the women in my life-Suzi and our three girls. Now when my daughters participate in a school event, for example, I’ve determined to be there. Often that means saying no to someone else. But servicing my daughters’ needs is also my business.

Throughout my difficult journey, I have tasted of God’s goodness. In my moments of greatest doubt, God has created a new passion to preach his Word. And unless God uses honey and red ants to persuade me otherwise, I’ll be promoting my Father’s kingdom through my vocation as pastor.

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