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It’s not about you: Ministerial meekness and a sense of proportion

During my student days, an elderly Pentecostal pastor came to address us one day in Chapel. He told the story of an occasion in his ministry when, after he preached a sermon challenging all present to dedicate their lives to Christian service, people streamed forward to offer themselves to serve the Lord. As they prayed, the "glory fell" on them, and the whole throng was "lost in wonder, love and praise," to borrow a phrase from Charles Wesley.

The preacher was quite pleased to see this obvious evidence of God's blessing on his ministry, when abruptly, he said, the Holy Spirit caught him short: "I'm blessing these people not because of what you said, but in order to help them forget what you said."

Some years later I was pastor of a congregation that included an elder who had a stock line for me most Sundays as I greeted the people departing the sanctuary: "That was a great sermon this morning! I don't remember a thing you said, but it made me feel good." It was good medicine for me to be reminded that in the grand scheme of things, who I am and what I have to say aren't all that important after all. I was discovering the truth of Eugene Peterson's and Marva Dawn's marvelous book title, The Unnecessary Pastor.

It is vital that we, as God's servants, neither take our vocation too lightly, nor our ministry too seriously. God will get done what God purposes to get done -- whether we are part of the program or not. God calls pastors to play an active, particular role in the grand drama of the Kingdom of Heaven breaking into this world. Ultimately, however, our ministry and the Gospel cause we serve do not rise or fall on whether we get it exactly right -- on whether we work long hours, on the level of our pastoral and management skills, or for sure on how "spiritual" we are.

Asking a blessing for my father

My father died November 7. He was 90 years old, almost 91, and had served as an ordained minister for 64 years, all in Texas. After graduating from seminary, he was called to a congregation in Eliasville, a windblown West Texas town barely on the map these days. Most of his ministry, however, took place in the growing suburbs of Ft. Worth, Dallas, and Houston. In the 1950's he wrote a book entitled Our Cities for Christ, which was a call to the Southern Presbyterian Church to pay attention to the rapidly urbanizing South and to be about the work of organizing new congregations for a post-war America. 

This impulse toward evangelism was deeply rooted in my father's theological make-up and represented his most consistent response to the gospel's claim. Stephen Webb, in his book, The Divine Voice, has argued that we show we understand the gospel's claims most truly when we preach its good news, an insight my father would have understood instinctively and with which he would have agreed.

The formative influence upon my father's theology was the Student Volunteer Movement (which he encountered through the YMCA) and its aim "to evangelize the world in this generation." The theological problems with that motto, and indeed, with that movement are almost self-evident to us today even though our achievements seem paltry when compared to those of the generations inspired by such a slogan. My father's heroes were people like John R. Mott and later, Robert E. Speer and before them, Sheldon Jackson.

Fathers’ Day

To this point in history insufficient attention has been devoted to masculinist, or more precisely – fatherist, biblical exegesis.  When this important field is better recognized, I will offer the following father's perspective on Luke 1:41:  "When Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the babe leaped in her womb."  Obviously, as is the way with women, Elizabeth related this information to Mary who passed it on to Dr. Luke, who wrote it down.

An independent church press is necessary

The Presbyterian Outlook has concluded its search for a new editor. Now it is time to affirm the value of an independent church press. It seems a small thing to wish for, in these days of denominational strife, theological conflict, and liturgical chaos. It only seems a small thing. A flourishing independent church press is essential, particularly in a time of strife and indecision.

Why is it so valuable?

The independent church press is not beholden to any particular part of the denomination's official establishment. Worthy PC(USA) magazines are valuable sources of church news and many good insights. Various editorial columns reflect independent views, but surely their mission is to promote the life and views of the national church. I am old enough to remember the Presbyterian Survey printed a picture of the procession for the funeral of Dr. Martin Luther King, showing the humble farm wagon used to carry his body to the church. I valued that cover, but many did not. It is my opinion that the Survey had to bend to the realities of reduced circulation for some time after that.

The independent church press offers alternatives to ordinary ways of thinking. In the days of Dr. Ernest Thompson's tenure as editor of the Outlook, such aspects of southern life as segregation were addressed, and alternatives suggested in his mild mannered style. Some of his theological views, however gently expressed, landed him in a heresy trial. Dr. Aubrey Brown and his brother worked hard for the reunification of Presbyterians who had split apart during the Civil War era. It took some courage to do that in the fifties and sixties. Dr. George Hunt continued the search for Presbyterian unity, and broadened the views of the Outlook. Dr. Robert Bullock, an irenic evangelical, encouraged the church, in a series of editorials, to reclaim its doctrinal center. On his watch, the controversial advertisement from the Friends of Sophia occupied a full page. Dr. Ben Sparks, as interim editor, in my view wished to modernize the magazine, to make it more attractive to readers, and to increase its subscription base.

It is also important to realize that the independent church press is not about money, wealth, power, or advantage. Jack Haberer, who has been tapped by The Presbyterian Outlook to don the ceremonial green eyeshade, sleeve bands and stiff cuff protectors will surely not be ordering the latest BMW on the prospect of great financial rewards.

Is there an answer?

Surely, our Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) needs an answer. The net losses of 1,887,629 members and 1,985 churches, from the total of our two previous denominations in 1966, cry out for an answer. Lest you conclude that the answer would be to mount a major membership and church building drive, let me suggest that these dismal statistics, in reality, are the symptoms of a deeper malaise, the score card for a team in serious need of coming together for a common purpose.

The church universal, including our PC(USA) denomination, needs an answer. In this country, the church has lost its role of arbitrator/advocate for a moral and ethical society. The church is under attack by new age philosophies that challenge the church's basic doctrines of sin, repentance, forgiveness and submission to the will of God. Respect for and confidence in the church is daily challenged by widely repeated voices of atheism and agnosticism. In Europe, the church is a remnant of echo-filled cathedrals and dwindling faithful. The church needs an answer.

At present, in the PC(USA), there are deeply-concerned groups who feel the answer to the difficult issues before the church is to divide the church. Others have invested decades of time and effort seeking more ecclesiastical openness and understanding toward sexual orientation, while even more are convinced that without biblical parameters, this can cause great damage to our church.

We need an answer--an honest answer to the genuine fears and concerns of those who see no other course but to leave the church, an answer that will move us beyond investing our time and resources in peripheral issues, beyond majoring in minors. An answer that will temper those actions and statements of General Assembly meetings that often result in unrest and distrust in our local congregations and leave our local pastors as the focus of angry reactions. We need an answer that will allow the church to speak prophetically and with authority to the plagues of our time; war across this earth, murder in our streets and the hatred underlying terrorism. We need an answer that will encourage and be supportive of our fellow Presbyterians whose primary focus is personal piety, and equally for those who know the need for corporate acts of compassion.

All these things and more need a reliable answer.  

Experiencing God’s unifying power

It had been a hard year--members left, a building project stalled, gossip and rancor seemed to raise their heads at every corner. There was a strong sense though that our struggles weren't against "flesh and blood," so neither was the solution. 

For 90 days this past summer, our congregation tried to carve out ten minutes a day to pray about their church. Using the acronym CAST, we sought to understand what the spiritual barriers were to our moving forward in Christ. "C" stood for Come, as every part of our family was encouraged to come to the Lord in prayer and invite God to come and meet us in our prayer time. "A" stood for Asking, we needed to be bold enough to ask God to reveal those things that where holding us back from being the congregation we were called to be. "S" was for the Holy Spirit, we would be relying on the Spirit of God to guide us, waiting for his leading and prompting. Finally, "T" meant that we would Trust that the One who loves us so much would in fact meet us, guide us and direct our ways.

For 90 days we encouraged and challenged each other to follow through, join in and become part of the discerning process regardless of our varying positions on issues. We all wanted to follow God's leading. At the end of those three months, people reported on what the Lord had put on their hearts. Together my Worship Director and I planned out a service that would focus on the major themes the congregation had discovered. It proved to be one of the most powerful, unifying, Spirit- filled services we've ever had. God was honored and the Body was blessed to now be able to confidently go forward in Christ -- together.

What has happened to my country?

   Lately I feel like a stranger in the United States.

I am a remnant of what has been called "the greatest generation," but it's not the thinning ranks of my generation that has me feeling lost and confused. It's the debate about torture that has been swirling around me for months. I never imagined such a debate in my country.

A single statement from the executive branch that torture is forbidden everyplace, all the time, by every agency and under all circumstances, would stop all such talk immediately. There might be an element of danger in that stance, but virtue knows any sacrifice is worth a better future. We need to end the torture debate so the world will know that my country would never become as the enemy.

My father fought in World War I in Europe. He was a quiet man who never talked about his service in France, but my mother's photo of him in his uniform is etched in the minds of his children.

When World War II broke out, we were five boys and a little sister. The three oldest enlisted within days of the declaration of war. As number four, I enlisted as soon as my 18th birthday rolled around. Three of us went into the Army Air Force for pilot training; one joined the 5th Armored Division.

My youngest brother, Dudley, graduated from high school a couple of years later. Dad and Mom did not stand in the way of his enlisting, although they could have gotten a deferment for him to help on the farm. Dud didn't want cold, mud and tents, so he joined the Navy.          

When his orders came to report for duty, what was left of the family climbed into the car and took him to the train station -- his grandfather, a great aunt, his little sister and parents. They all returned to our home to stay overnight. Dad went immediately to the end of the backyard and dug up the basketball standard that had stood for many years over a dusty plot where running feet had trampled out every living thing. It was too painful to see it standing there, silent and unused. After supper and evening visiting, Mom and Dad turned their bed over to company. They took the boys' room; Mom crawled into Dud's lower bunk, and Dad climbed into the top one. Finally, in the dark, alone, Mom was able to shed the tears that she had held back all day. Dad heard her crying and climbed down. They slept wrapped in each other's arms in Dud's empty, single bed. Mom wrote later, "When the morning came, our courage returned."