In my first year of ordained ministry, a long-time member I served didn’t like me. I never figured out exactly what the specific issue was, despite attempts to address it. But, he really didn’t like me.
I was an Associate Pastor and preached once a month. Each time, he displayed his disdain. He rolled his head back and forth, avoiding eye contact. He pointed his eyes up to the ceiling and sighed loudly. He turned to the side, facing away from me. Sometimes, he pulled a Bible out and begin reading, holding the bible up high, blocking his face from me. I wish I could say my sermon spurred him to read scripture, but that’s not what was going on. When I preach, I make as much eye contact as possible. I couldn’t help but notice his movements. He wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t pleasant.
Sadly, some will get into ministry out of a desire to be praised. People-pleasing is far too common in the ministry and can lead to disastrous outcomes. During seminary, I reached out to mentors to ask them how they had avoided the trap of using the pastoral vocation to bolster their egos. I listened to their advice and put all sorts of habits in place, so that I would be prepared to not let the adoration I was sure would come my way ruin my ministry.
I was naive. And, frankly, arrogant. I can’t help but laugh at myself, thinking that too much praise would be my trial in ministry. I’ve also learned that my female colleagues deal with this type of disrespect regularly. This congregant made all the planning unnecessary. Instead of worrying about too much praise, I was trying to survive each sermon, wondering if I had mistaken God’s call.
My preaching suffered. I was newly ordained. I had no idea how to respond appropriately. After a couple sermons, he became the only person I could see while preaching. And during my preparation, I found myself writing sermons with him in mind, wanting to prove him wrong.
Reflecting now, I can see just how immature I was, both as a preacher and a person. Despite my efforts, I allowed someone else’s view of me to define my sense of call. Letting animosity get to your head is just as much of a trap as letting praise get to your head. And, I misunderstood the relationship between a preacher and a congregation.
Preaching flows out of a series of relationships within an entire congregation. Some will be deep and meaningful. Some will be shallow and fickle. Some will be warm and loving. And some, sadly, will be antagonistic. Not all involve the preacher, but they still bear on the reception of a sermon. It can be easy to focus on one bad relationship, or one good relationship. But each relationship is critical. Each relationship makes up an important part of the sermon. And each of those relationships needs to be remembered and, as best as possible, held in balance.
At first, the disgruntled member threw me off. It was hard to focus on my sermon, both before preaching and during. But I kept on preaching. It wasn’t like I had an epiphany, or one “aha!” moment. Instead, I engaged in the grind of sermon preparation. As the weeks went by, the Holy Spirit nudged me through conversations with mentors, my wife and friends. I became more mindful of the variety of relationships in the congregation. After each sermon, I interacted with different people and heard stories about what God was doing in their lives.
After a few months, the disgruntled member took up less of my attention. I was never able to ignore him entirely. How could I? Again, he wasn’t subtle. Nor did I want to ignore him entirely. Our relationship was still an important part of the preaching event, even if it wasn’t healthy. It just needed to be balanced with the other relationships. I learned to put that relationship in its appropriate place and preach a word that spoke to all of us.
I wish I could say that he and I figured out what the issue was and patched things up. Sadly, that isn’t what happened. After five years of ministry, and numerous life-giving relationships, I was called to a new role in a different state. He had moved on from the congregation before then.
But sometimes, as I’m preaching, I remember him, shifting in his seat, avoiding eye contact, holding the Bible up, blocking my view. And I’m reminded that I’m not preaching to one or two people in the congregation, or to one or two groups. I’m preaching to each person present, regardless of what they may think of me, positive or negative. Regardless of how meaningful or shallow our relationship is. Because a sermon is never about the preacher, but always about God’s word blessing an entire congregation.
