Romance, Disillusionment, Joy

Last year I read an article in Time magazine on the results of a study of different professions in the USA. Surprisingly, the profession of "pastor" turns out to be one of the most stressful. Caring for people can be emotionally draining, especially with all the other hats we must wear (landlord, accountant, public relations, etc.). We want to nurture spiritual growth, but cannot help getting caught up in the drama of peoples' lives.

Pastoring is a difficult business. John Wimber used to say to pastor wanna-be's, "If you can do anything else, do it." Of course, the romantic view of pastoral ministry is hard to erase with a few simple words. A starry eyed romantic hears those words, but then thinks inside, "Yes, but I'm different."

Eugene Peterson, in his wonderful book, Under the Unpredictable Plant, says that so many of us in the pastoral ministry hear the call of God, like Jonah. The call sounds good as long as we are going to exotic Tarshish. Then we find out that ministry actually happens in messy, undesirable Ninevah.

Romance gives way to disillusionment. Or put another way, "reality bites."

The transition from journeying to Tarshish to actually doing ministry in Ninevah is hazardous to a pastor's own spiritual life. We must be wary of becoming cynical. Like Moses when he has gotten fed-up with Israel's complaining. Instead of simply speaking to the rock, he shows his frustration with Israel, "Listen, you rebels! Must we bring you water out of this rock?" (Num. 20: 10). Moses then, in complete disobedience to God's instructions, strikes the rock two times. The miracle happens and Israel's needs are met. But Moses never gets to enter the promised land.

The really difficult step we must make is to embrace ministry where it really is--in Ninevah. When we can actually accept that pastoral ministry is difficult and stressful, but IT IS WORTH IT--then we will begin to experience joy. The joy that comes, not because we have built a big cathedral, or have a big budget, or our attendance numbers are huge. The joy comes from being in the center of God's will.

Romance becomes disillusionment and finally turns to joy.

What's interesting is that, in that same Time article, pastoral ministry was rated highest in job satisfaction. Stressful--yes--but oh, so very worth it.

Christ as the Head of the Church

Several years ago, the senior pastor of the church at which I worked had to step down from his position. The resulting leadership vacuum was not instantly filled. The staff met almost daily, sometimes for half the day, to discuss decisions and what we needed to do to help the church function and go through the process of recovery. It became very clear to me how debilitating it was not to have a clear leader at the helm to steer the ship.

I must confess that during this interim period, I made some decisions and signed some approvals that no one had given me permission to do, but I knew that everything would grind to a halt if someone didn't keep the machinery greased. When the new senior pastor arrived, I gently let go of the power that I had temporarily (and benignly) assumed.

An old Latin proverb has often been quoted through the ages: "Power abhors a vacuum."

And yet, I am aware of several churches that have not only survived, but thrived under a kind of shared leadership. One person is the administrative elder, another the teaching elder, and another the pastoral care elder. By conventional wisdom, they should have crumbled or succumbed to a power-grab by someone. What makes them different?

I believe that, in their case, Jesus is the head of the church and they are all subject to his leadership. They are serving a greater vision that was planted in them when the church was founded and they are simply seeking to implement that vision under Christ's direction.

In Ephesians, Paul says that part of the maturing of the church is to begin to operate with Jesus as the Head. "From him, the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work" (Eph. 4: 16).

A way I have often thought about this is that the church is the perpetual motion machine, defying the second law of thermodynamics (that all things tend towards disorder or decay). It works when two things are in place: 1) Christ is the head, and 2) love is the lubrication.

John Wimber, the founder of the Vineyard, used to share his conviction that Jesus wants to be the head of the Church.

To use the picture of vine and branches that Jesus gives us in John 15, "Apart from me, you can do nothing" (John 15: 5). Each of us, when we are vitally connected to the life-giving vine, will not only receive life from him but produce fruit.

Are we willing to get out of the way and let him lead us? Are we willing to let his leadership fill the power vacuum?

Hanging In There

I've gone through a lot of shaking this year. Five of our members have passed away, plus my own father and two former co-workers at the Anaheim Vineyard. Quite a few people have left our fellowship for various reasons. A few of them were understandably frustrated with me during this time of shaking. But more of them simply moved out of the area.

In Hebrews 12, the writer comments on Haggai's prophecy about God shaking Israel. He says that God shakes everything so that the things that need to be removed are removed and so that the things that are supposed to remain permanently, remain.

Despite all the loss, I am greatly encouraged. I sense that God is indeed on the move. That the losses are a kind of pruning that will result in growth. I have even found myself feeling an unexplainable joy as I pray about all these things.

My wife loves roses. When it comes time to prune her rose bushes, she seemingly hacks them back to nothing. If I didn't know better, I would think they were dead. Just a gnarled stump with a couple of thorny sticks. Yet, when spring comes, the bushes come to life and the resultant display of blooms is spectacular every time.

I think of 1 Cor. 15: 58:

"Therefore, my dear brothers [and sisters], stand firm. Let nothing move you. [Hang in there--sit tight.] Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain."

Here, Paul is saying, with all the deaths of believers, don't get discouraged. The resurrection is a real hope that means your work for the Kingdom is not a waste of time.

I began blogging a year ago and have kept it up with some consistency. Perhaps the rhythm of putting my thoughts down in pixels has helped me through the shaky times. I hope you have been blessed, challenged or comforted by something I've written. And I am going to continue to write. If you are touched, please share your thoughts with me or forward the link to someone else who might be blessed as well.

And remember--hang in there, because your work in the Kingdom is not a waste of time.

The Lord Is My Shepherd

Perhaps one of the most beloved Psalms is the 23rd. I was reminded of that this morning as I was officiating at a graveside service. And there is probably a good reason that it is so popular.

"The Lord is my Shepherd..." This metaphor captures so succinctly the nature of our relationship with our precious Lord.

Psalm 100 also mentions this idea: "We are His people; the sheep of His pasture."

Probably with this in mind, Jesus says of Himself in John's Gospel: "I am the Good Shepherd...and my sheep hear my voice."

I remember reading a story in a book about pastoral ministry, They Smell Like Sheep, by Lynn Anderson. In the Middle East, unlike cattle in the Old West, sheep are not driven in front of the shepherd. Instead, they follow the shepherd. And, in fact, many herds may graze together, watched over by their shepherds. But when the time comes to leave, each shepherd calls them in a unique voice. The sheep know the voice of their shepherd and follow him out of the other herds.

"...the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice" (John 10: 3-5).

Walking with Jesus is listening to the voice of the Shepherd and Overseer of our souls. He calls us by name and, because we belong to Him, we respond and follow--to green pastures, beside quiet waters, and even through the valley of the shadow of death.

As we listen to his comforting voice, we do not fear evil. His guiding and correcting rod and staff are comforting because we learn to trust His lovingkindness.

Perhaps my greatest challenge is to simply follow Him like a sheep, letting go of my incessant need to be in control, and trusting in His love for me.

Simple Instructions

What is the most complicated set of instructions you've ever had to follow in your home? For me it was the assembly instructions for my gas barbecue. Not only were the instructions complex, but it seems that they were written by non-native English speakers. "Take up through slotted down-piece." What?!?! I had several pieces left when I had finished assembly. Oh well, it seems to work.

What is the least complicated set of instructions you've had to follow in your home? For me it is written on the side of my shampoo bottle: "Lather. Rinse. Repeat."

It doesn't get any easier than that.

Growing up in the church, I often felt that Christianity was mysterious and complicated, like my gas barbecue assembly. With all the trappings of religion, how can anyone understand whether God is pleased and you are in the center of His will?

But Jesus, when confronted by the scribes and Pharisees in the Temple courts was given a nagging question that was probably commonly discussed by the scholars, "Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?" (Matt. 22: 36).

The question was meant to trap him by getting him mired in the complex theological debates of the religious leaders. They read the Torah and got caught up in all of the minutiae. To them, religion was like my gas barbecue, a myriad of instructions. The successful holy person could bring all the pieces together into a harmonious whole. The answer is a 5-volume Systematic Theology.

But Jesus' answer was simple. "Jesus replied, 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments" (Matt. 22: 37-40).

Jesus is essentially saying that God's Torah can be boiled down to two simple instructions: Love God and Love People.

When I started to realize that this was indeed the heart of Christianity, I thought the church's mission statement should really be more like my shampoo bottle: "Love God. Love People. Repeat."

It doesn't get much simpler than that. What would happen if we all read these simple set of instructions every morning and then just tried to follow them?

Swept Away

I often think of God's Kingdom as a kind of powerful river. When we place our faith in the King, He invites us to get swept away by the current. And one of the ways we often experience that current is when He calls us to send out workers into the harvest.

Jesus sent the 12 out two-by-two (Matt. 10 and Luke 9) to extend His own ministry. And in Luke 10, he sent out "72 others" to do the same. At the end of Matthew's Gospel, Jesus delivers the "Great Commission," essentially commanding the church to "go and make disciples of all nations" (Matt. 28: 18-20). And at the beginning of Acts, Jesus tells His disciples to "be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth" (Acts 1: 8).

The book of Acts is the story of the Gospel being brought "to the ends of the earth" by the Holy Spirit-empowered disciples. A good example is in Acts 13, 1-3:

"In the church at Antioch there were prophets and teachers: Barnabas, Simeon called Niger, Lucius of Cyrene, Manaen (who had been brought up with Herod the tetrarch) and Saul. While they were worshiping the Lord and fasting, the Holy Spirit said, 'Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them.' So after they had fasted and prayed, they placed their hands on them and sent them off."

In two Sundays my church will be laying hands on someone who has been my Youth Pastor for the last four years. He is leaving us to serve a sister congregation as Assistant Pastor. I feel proud and happy for him as he goes, but I am also feeling the pang of loss.

In my years as a member and then a pastor at the Anaheim Vineyard, I got used to building relationships with pastors and leaders, often to see God "send" them somewhere else to serve the Kingdom of God. John Wimber, the founding pastor, often said that God called us to send our best. And when we did, that spirit of generosity would result in increased blessing.

The answer is not to protect myself from the pain of losing relationship, but to embrace it as a part of Kingdom life. Each one of us is called to jump into the stream called the Kingdom. It has a force all its own. And when we jump in, we will be swept away in it's powerful current.

This weekend, a friend of mine who planted a church 16 years ago surprised me when he showed up unannounced at our Sunday service. At lunch, we were able to reminisce about the adventures of Kingdom ministry that have made our lives so exciting. On two sides of the continent, we have impacted the lives of many others.

And we agreed that, as pastors, we can't cling to people as if we own them. They belong to God. He will lead and carry them to their own destinations.

Instead, let us rejoice that the Gospel is being carried "to the ends of the earth." And let us look forward to swapping "Holy Ghost stories" when we meet again.

Step of Faith

I love the scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade when Indy must take a step of faith over a chasm. His foot lands on a stone bridge that was there the whole time but, due to an optical illusion, was imperceptible. It could only be discovered by that step of faith.

The eleventh chapter of Hebrews is often called the "faith" chapter. In it, the writer gives a string of Old Testament examples of people of faith. He tells us that faith is important because "without faith it is impossible to please God" (Heb. 11: 6).

I am often bothered by a popular model that presents faith as a magical narcissistic state of mind that we must conjure up, like putting on a Superman suit in the phone booth, that makes us invincible. "If I just believe good enough, I will feel powerful and God will act through me."

But when I study each of the examples in chapter 11, I realize that these believers did not really exhibit that kind of state. For example, in verse 8, Abraham had to leave the security of home for an unknown destination. No auto club trip-tik to guide him on the way. No convenient rest areas with well-marked signage. No highway patrol to make the roads safe from marauders.

“By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise” (Heb. 11: 8-9).

Even when Abraham arrived, he lived in tents, like a “stranger in a strange land.” He must have wondered how God was going to fulfill His promises. “Here I am, God. Now what?”

Faith is not the absence of worry, fear, anxiety, difficulty, pain, turmoil—and even doubt. Faith is the element that causes us to obey the God we cannot see when what we can see obscures the way. It is the tiny particle of faith that Peter demonstrated when he stepped out on the water and began to walk to Jesus.

Doubt does not mean we do not have faith. It is simply the human part of us looking for security in the material world around us. Faith is the spiritual dynamic that grasps the unseen reality of God and so, moves forward anyway.

What step of faith is God calling you to take today?