Friday, November 14, 2008

21st Century Pastoral Ministry

by Thomas Johnston

As the culture in the West continues its dramatic shift away from any connection with a Christian world-view, we are challenged to continually readdress and redefine the role of the “pastor.” Historically, this has been a vocation in the sense of a compensated role, paid for by a self-supporting local church or a denominational group, and may have been either full time or part-time in those churches too small to support a pastor. While pastoral ministry continues to be a multifaceted reality in the sense of various aspects of the role, one thing has become clear: the 21st Century pastor in America must think and function like a missionary.

Gone are the days where the church was the center pole of community life and activity, where the pastor cared for and nurtured the flock which obediently attended the weekly services and activities that were normative of a neighborhood or town. We are the inheritors of a declining church, one with a lackluster witness to a powerful Christ. The generational decline in church participation will seemingly reach its lowest point in American history, beginning to parallel the decline a generation earlier in Europe. The Church in the West is in trouble. However, the church of Jesus Christ as portrayed in the Scripture is not.

So, we face a post-modern, post-Christian, pagan culture. Good, now that we’ve got that figured out, let’s get to work. We face nothing that has not been seen before by the Church throughout the ages. The shift we have to make in our thinking is that pastoral ministry is no longer providing chaplaincy services and care for a group who willing comes to our sacred edifices multiple times each week. Such a passive ministry died with Ozzie & Harriet and Lawrence Welk. (The times, they are ‘a changing.) No, now pastoral leadership must be what it has always been on the mission field – active and catalytic with a goal of making more and better disciples of Jesus Christ everywhere. It is a 24/7/365 activity engaged in by all Christians who have been prepared by their leaders (read: pastors) for such mission, one which is lived as a way of life. 21st Century pastors are missional leaders who train missionaries (Ephesians 4:11-12) – the people of the body, maturing them in Christ, equipping them for every good work (2 Timothy 3:17). These people become then The Ubiquitous Church – the church which is not a building, but a people who, as they engage in life, make disciples for Jesus Christ, everywhere they go, every minute of the day. Life becomes both the curriculum and means for discipleship, “as you go, make disciples” (Matthew 28:18-20).

Such missionary pastors should not see this as a financially lucrative career path. Ministry has never historically “paid well”, but it has likewise been understood that being a (foreign) missionary “paid” even less. But if we are to reach the West again for Christ we must adopt the mindset of a missionary and be willing to NOT be paid for the ministry we do! We can expect God to provide, but it may or may not come through the offering plate. Are you up to the task?

You're Not Pastoring Right

by Mike Chong Perkinson

As a young pastor, I was convinced that by being open, honest, and approachable, conflicts and difficulties could be resolved without the loss of relationship. In my youthful zeal was a quiet pride that believed I would be the first pastor to plant a church and not lose any of the initial people, while being able to manage the Board without major controversy. As I later learned, I was dead wrong. If the apostle Paul had problems with his churches, who am I kidding to think I won’t.

The events described below took place over about a year and a half in my first church plant. It was a quiet problem that festered and grew into full force after about six months. The major life of the conflict lasted about the same amount of time. The lessons I have acquired from the experience are enormous. I will discuss those at the end of the article.

The room was quiet and the faces somber. Once again, the Board of Directors found themselves smack dab in the middle of a rather heated discussion on my failure to pastor the church. We were a non-denominational church that had found itself growing and enjoying the blessings of our Lord’s favor. In the midst of our third year, the Board of Directors began to find itself divided over the issue of the church’s vision. One particular Board member, John (names have been changed), was deeply concerned that I was not carrying out the vision of the church. He was convinced this was the case because of personal issues I was not addressing. In his opinion, personal counseling was the only recourse for me, his senior pastor. What made the issue more painful for me was the friendship I had shared with John for the past eight years. He was not only an integral part of this particular church plant and a Board member, but was also with me in my previous ministry. For the past eight years, he was by my side as a support, prayer partner, and encourager. On top of this, he was a close friend.

Our Board of Directors was made up of myself - the senior pastor, the senior assistant pastor and Chairman of the Board, the head deacon, a congregational member (Steve), the head elder (John), another congregational member (who was our accountant), and sitting in without voting power was another assistant pastor. During this time of conflict, the Board was divided down the middle. The pastoral staff understood the problem to be personal. It was not so much that I was failing as a pastor, but John was hurt over the change in our relationship and was expressing it in the arena of theology, ecclesiologyand church philosophy.

John was able to convince Steve and our head deacon that something was wrong with my leadership and effectively spread the poison to some of our key leaders. Several people were commissioned by John to analyze my sermons and critique their content and spirituality. “Were they Biblical enough? Do the sermons feed you spiritually?” were the questions each person was asked to answer after every sermon. Quietly, but surely, a growing consensus developed that became concerned over my preaching and leadership. An unofficial task force to help me find my way back to personal wholeness and spirituality was created amongst this group of so-called concerned brothers and sisters. It was my worst nightmare in ministry. I already understood the issue of insecurity well enough without being scrutinized and challenged by my leadership.

The struggle lasted for over a year. At first, the Board meetings were only awkward. Over time, they became more discussion centered with little resolve. The meetings were like the cat who chases his tail. No matter how much we discussed something, we could never catch the tail. As the months passed, the meetings became more tense and confusing. Without question, it hurt the church’s direction for the year and realistically cost the church about two years of momentum. It is difficult to pastor a leadership when they are not sure they support you any more. No matter how hard I tried to mobilize our leadership during this period, a spirit of confusion and suspicion crippled my efforts. At this point, I began to doubt my ability as a pastor, often second guessing myself and hesitating on critical decisions.

“YOU ARE PREACHING MILK!”

In one heated meeting, John, with intense emotion, verbalized a pastor’s worse nightmare: “You are preaching milk to the congregation.” Although his words were not loud, the pain of the verbal blow was felt in the deepest fibers of my heart. I felt the emotion well up within me.

“Why was he was doing this?” was all I could think. I responded with a question, “Can you give me an example?” Before John could respond, Steve, one of our older Board members added another blow. He said, “Mike, it seems to me that your preaching is too deep and philosophical. Maybe you’re preaching too much meat; something seems to have changed in your preaching the past six months and I’m not sure what it is.”

If confusion was ever about us, it sure made itself present with his comment. “Which is it, am I preaching milk or meat that is too thick for our people to chew? I can’t be preaching milk and meat messages at the same time.”

John piped up and said, “You are no longer discipling people anymore. You have drifted away from the vision of the church.”

One of our staff pastors quickly interjected a question, “How do you define discipleship?”

“Well, it’s one-on-one mentoring, counseling, and teaching classes,” John replied.

I quickly, but gently asserted, “Isn’t that what we are doing now? After all, each of the pastors, including me, are discipling individuals, teaching classes, and counseling. Can you help me see where we are failing in the vision?”

John was speechless and slightly dumbfounded. He answered with slight resistance, “I guess you are doing it.”

Feeling relieved, but frustrated, I asked, “Then, what are you trying to say?” All he could do was answer with a generic criticism of something being wrong with the church.

“I QUIT”

Throughout this period of turmoil, I struggled deeply with my identity and ability. I was already quite familiar with an unwanted companion called insecurity before any of the conflict began. My greatest fear in life was that I would one day be exposed and found out to be far less than what people believed. All of the talent and giftedness people said I had would be discovered one day to be nothing more than a front for my weak and meager ability. The conflict began to awaken my fear in ways I had not known.

One day, I said to my staff, “I think I’m going to resign. It’s the only way I see to resolve the tension on the Board and keep the church from being hurt any more.”

My senior associate pastor quickly responded, “I don’t think you should resign. That would be a big mistake, Mike. You need to stand your ground and see this through. If any one resigns, John will need to.”

Those words stuck with me and gave me perspective during a time when I was having a hard time understanding why any of this was happening. We had been so effective in our communication with our leadership and Board members; so overly cautious in our relationships with our people; and quick to admit when we had made mistakes. “With all the honesty and transparency, why was any of this happening?”

A STRATEGY

This had gone on too long. I knew I was going to have to make a decision and act quickly. The only saving grace for me was my knowledge that John was hurt over the status of our relationship. I had taken this matter to him in private and even with some of my staff members. He admitted to some hurt, but would not agree that his hurt and personal counseling issues were clouding his perceptions.

He was a close friend who was in contact with me on a daily basis for some time. Unfortunately, due to the church’s quick growth, his recent marriage, and the birth of his daughter, our time together was drastically reduced to church functions and maybe a night out a month. It was clear not only to me, but the pastoral staff that this was the issue. Adding fuel to the fire was John’s recent struggle in his marriage that resulted in him going to counseling. Looking back, it would have been best to ask him to step down from the Board while he was in counseling. Mixing the pot with his personal issues and our relational change not only resulted in clouding his perceptions, but helped develop his conviction that I needed help too. He was convinced that I had personal issues that were affecting my ability to pastor. One of the issues was my inability to receive love or ask for help.

Understanding this to be the case, I decided to see how clear-headed John really was. I brought the pastoral staff together and told them of a plan to gauge his effectiveness on the Board. In our next Board meeting we were due to discuss salary increases for the pastors. John was well aware of how difficult it was for me to propose a raise for myself. I told the staff how I was going to propose everyone’s raise but mine to see if John would go for the bait. There was no question in my mind that I could manipulate him with this strategy to give me a raise. To keep myself accountable to my staff, I told them everything I was planning to do. I also made it clear to them that if John went for the bait I was going to have to remove him from the Board. The staff and I agreed that I can’t have someone on the Board who can be so easily manipulated.

A SAD SUCCESS


The Board meeting began with prayer. I reached for my notes and glanced quickly at my senior associate who nodded in support. I motioned that we proceed with staff salaries. Just as I had planned, I motioned for everyone’s increase, but mine. Much to my dismay, John took the bait hook, line, and sinker.

A gradual grin of pleasure was forming on his face as he said, “Wait a minute, I just happened to notice you did not motion for a raise for yourself.” He sat back in his chair with a look of satisfaction like a car thief who finds a car with the keys in the ignition.

“John, you know how hard it is for me to ask for a personal raise,” was my embarrassed reply.

“Then I motion to raise Mike in his salary,” John noted for the Board. Full of pleasure and self-satisfaction, he smiled and leaned back in his chair as if he had just proven his worth to me and the Board. He never wanted to be a “yes” man on the Board. With conviction and force he added, “You know, I’m not simply going to be a “yes” man to every thing. That was the original desire you had for the Board members and I’ll be sure to enforce it. And since, you have difficulty asking for a personal raise, I’m here to make sure we always do what is right and not always what you want.”

I sadly nodded my head in affirmation, conceding his apparent victory. The motion to raise the staff, including my raise was unanimously passed. I knew at that moment I had to carry out what was going to be a rather painful decision.

AFFECTS OF THE CONFLICT

Sadly enough, I had to ask John to resign from his position on the Board and as Head Elder. Of all the decisions I had made up to that point in my ministry career, it was the most painful for me personally.

The confusion caused by the past year had more impact on the people than I anticipated. For example, Steve came to my office one day ready to resign from his Board position. He was confused over how the Board was when it became evident to him and me how John had been influencing him. Over the course of the next few months, others in leadership came to realize on their own that the problem was John. However, we would lose our Head Deacon in the process. He turned in his resignation from the Board and as Head Deacon. With all that had happened, the damage to him was beyond repair at this point.

What made John’s position so ridiculous was his criticism of one particular woman in our leadership. She was someone who was being trained to be a counselor and working with our women. He felt she was spending too much time with me. He insinuated to many that I was playing favorites with her and that an affair was going on between us. She was one who demonstrated concern about me and was initially on John’s side. The affair accusation allowed her to see how convoluted John had become in his thinking. If the situation were different, I would have laughed over the false accusation. The only relief I could feel was knowing that people were beginning to see the truth for the first time in months.

I wish I could say the conflict came to a grinding halt when I served John the official papers from the Board that requested his resignation; such is sadly not the case. As anticipated, the request hurt him deeply. Reports of his dissatisfaction with the process and his attempts to rally dissenters and start a Bible study came across my desk. He was unsuccessful in gaining a following to support him in his position against me. Ironically, many in the church wanted to support him, but he would not receive it unless they saw things his way. My senior associate accompanied me in the meeting and comforted me after. It was the first time I broke down and cried at the end of a meeting.

It was difficult to continue pastoring after that ordeal. My passion for ministry diminished to some degree and my ability to lead was hesitant. Although, I did not harbor any bitterness or keep people at arm’s length; there was something in me that quietly removed itself from public access for the next few years. I could sense that something in me died. I had a two godly brothers and close friends that helped me process what had happened. They were a great support to me through wise counsel, friendship, and prayer. They helped me wrestle through the guilt of what felt like I had betrayed my friend and the frustration of failing as a pastor. The entire situation tapped my insecurity of not being good enough to handle the pastorate, or anything for that matter. Through constant dialogue with my friends and the Lord, I was able to release the hurt and allow the Lord to build me as a man of God. Ironically, as only the Lord can do, He took the situation and began to make life happen by working in the deeper recesses of my heart. From this, a new sense of confidence and passion began to spring up, coupled by a renewed vision to pastor.

To this day, contact between John and I is minimal. The rift has not been resolved to the degree I believe the Lord would desire. However, the wisdom I have gained from the experience is invaluable. The following is a summary of what the Lord taught me through this experience:

  1. Conflict is not always about theological or philosophical issues, but often can be centered on hurts or disillusionment people have with a person(s) or within themselves. I would not call this “personality-centered conflict” as Keith Huttenlocker does, but “person-centered conflict.” By this, I am suggesting people project their own hurts and issues on to people or situations to work out their hurt or frustrations.
  2. No matter how much you prepare your people to handle conflict, it is inevitable. Preparation helps a church work through conflict better and even overcome a great deal of it, but does not guarantee that all conflict will be resolved. Unfortunately, we live in a fallen world.
  3. As pastors, conflict taps deep personal issues in us which can be the basis for our actions if we are not prayerfully aware of them. For example, my fear was that, over time, people would come to realize I was not very godly or gifted. John and Steve’s criticism of my preaching confirmed my fear. I could have responded to this by exercising my authority and removing them from the Board or shrunk back in defeat. Either choice would have been a reaction to my fear and not a response to a problem the church was having.
  4. Facing a conflict is often about facing the issue or fear in our own souls as well as dealing with the present conflict.
  5. Conflict often causes us to choose sides and release our grip on the pursuit of truth and righteousness. We tend to forget, especially when hurt, that what really matters is the Kingdom of God and our obedience to our Lord. Instead, we opt to get our point across at the expense of the Kingdom of God and His people. I have learned, it’s less important to be right on an issue than it is to be right in my heart. By this, I am not implying that right and wrong does not matter, but that our pursuit of being right must be internal (within our hearts) before we try and resolve issues between people.
  6. Pastoring is not about how successful I am, but about pleasing our Lord Jesus. As a result, if I am not able to forgive people and release them unto the Lord, then I have radically missed the mark as a man of God.

The Pastor as Father

by Benjamin Israel Robinson

“Your sons will take the place of your fathers; you will make them princes throughout the land.” Psalm 45:16, NIV

I remember the thrill of being a senior in college. I felt as though things were coming together for me, I was beginning to see connections between theology and psychology and science and history and I began to develop a sense of learnedness and expertise. This led to conflict between my parents and me. I was a free thinker, no longer constrained by their limited and shallow view of the world, and I was unafraid to assert myself at their expense.

On New Years Eve night, 1997, I was about to take my brothers to a youth rally in San Jose when my younger brother began to argue with my father. They went back and forth and the discussion grew more and more heated. I was getting frustrated because we were running late. Finally, I looked at my brother and said, “you’re dead wrong,” and then proceeded to tell him why. Then, in a rare moment of bold indignation, I pointed my finger at my father and said, “and you’re wrong too,” and then proceeded to tell him why. When I finished I looked at my brothers and said, “Get in the car, let’s go,” and so we went.

For a moment I felt righteous, as though I had done a great thing by setting them both straight. But that sense of righteousness quickly morphed into a sense of remorse and godly sorrow as the conviction of the Holy Spirit infiltrated my heart. I felt terrible all the way to our destination. When we arrived, I took my brother aside and told him that we needed to call dad and make up with him before going into the service. We found a phone and I spoke first. “Dad, I was wrong to point my finger at you and tell you that you were wrong. That is not my place and I sincerely apologize.” Then my brother took the phone and apologized also. It was a deep moment of reconciliation between us and our father.

When we went into the service, the pastor recognized us and said, “The Robinson boys are here. Why don’t you guys come up here and lead us in some worship!” My brothers and I took the platform – Mark on the drums, Joshua on the bass, and I on the keyboard – and we led the gathered congregation into a powerful time of worship. But I asked myself after it was all over, “how could I have gone up to that platform and led God’s people in worship if I had not first been reconciled to my father?”

This is a good example of the way in which the church is supposed to function. The church is a household, not a corporation. Households are governed by parents; corporations are run by administrators. The pastor functions in the church the way a father functions in a household. Paul would insist on this in his letter to the Corinthians: “Even though you have ten thousand guardians in Christ, you do not have many fathers, for in Christ Jesus I became your father through the gospel.” (1 Corinthians 4:15, NIV)

Dallas Willard laments that the church of the West has omitted discipleship from the great commission and replaced it with conversion. He calls this The Great Omission, as his book is aptly titled. We don’t have to stretch our intellects to see his point; committed Christianity is at an all-time low in America. I read somewhere that the average ‘faithful’ American church attender goes to church twice a month. The epidemic of ‘church-hopping’ plagues American Christianity (can you imagine first century disciples Rabbi-hopping?) to the extent that true discipleship is practically non-existent in the church of America.

I see this in the congregation that I pastor and it makes my skin crawl. I had a guy come to me a few months ago and ask my permission to go through a particular process at another local church and I asked him why he felt he needed my permission. He responded, “because you’re my pastor.” I looked at him in disbelief and said, “I am? The only reason I ask that is because you’ve never allowed me to pastor you. You come to church once every three months, you have yet to submit yourself to any discipleship process here in the church, and now you’re asking my permission to submit yourself to a process at another church?” I didn’t say that to him to beat him up, but to encourage him to plug in at his new church and seriously commit to discipleship there.

But I must confess that there is a degree of anger and of indignation that I feel about the whole thing. What’s up with American, consumerist Christians? How many sermons do I have to preach on discipleship to convince people to do this thing right? At times I’ve found myself down-right pissed off at people who are content with a form of godliness, a shell of a Christian life devoid of any real substance. I call ‘em flash fried believers, they’ve been seared on the outside so they look cooked, but on the inside they’re as rare and uncooked as raw meat. They have experienced enough of the power of God to alter their outward appearance, but they haven’t allowed the heat of the gospel to cook them through and through.

One day I said, “God change these people’s hearts! Get a hold of these hard hearted, hecka fake, supposed Christians that don’t want anything deeper than their little pathetic wannabe Christian life.” God loves those complaining sessions, doesn’t he? When I look back on them, I picture him laughing. In my experience he never joins me in my criticism of others. He never jumps in and says, “Yeah, those people are fake, huh?” Instead, he always calls me to change. On this particular day he said to me, “Benjamin, your people will never submit to discipleship until you teach them that you are their father. You must teach them that you are their father!”

I was terrified by this prospect. Tell them that I am their father? How arrogant! How awkward! How presumptuous! I can’t do that. It’s not the way I roll. I would never take it upon myself to assume the role of fatherhood in someone’s life, even if I’ve been invited to do so. Matter of fact, there were already a few young men in the church who called me “Dad,” but I couldn’t bring myself to call them sons. I always responded with the egalitarian “brother.” It didn’t make any sense to me at all.

It doesn’t make sense unless you begin to see the church as a household. In a household it is imperative for the father to assert himself as such. If the father is unsure about his status in the house, the kids take over and order goes out the window. If the father doesn’t correct and instruct the children, the children begin to correct and instruct each other, and they even begin to correct and instruct the parents! At some point the father has to become secure enough in his identity to establish the order of the house. To do so is not controlling and tyrannical, but rather it creates a sense of safety and harmony in the household that everyone appreciates.

A few weeks after the Lord began to lay this on my heart, I got my first opportunity to test it. It was Sunday morning and at the close of the service one of the young women in the congregation came to the altar and began wailing and crying, as if in deep agony. I instantly received a strong impression that she was crying for her daddy and that I was to go over and put my arms around her and be that daddy. This was very awkward for me. I don’t put my hands on young ladies at the altar, and if I do lay hands, I do so very carefully and tactfully. I want to avoid the very appearance of evil. But I felt strongly that this was what the Lord wanted me to do. So I (fearfully and awkwardly) went over and wrapped my arms around her. “Father, allow her to feel that she is in your arms right now,” I prayed.

I thought that was good enough, but God wasn’t finished. “Tell her that you’re her father,” the Lord spoke to my heart. “And tell her that she’s your daughter.” I can’t tell you how much fear I felt at that moment. How can I just tell this woman that I’m her father? I’m barely old enough to be her older brother, much less her father! But God said to tell her that I’m her father! So I told her, “I know that you’ve never had a relationship with your father. But I want you to know that you’re not fatherless. I’m your father. I’ll be a covering for you.” With tears in her eyes she looked at me and said, “When I was at the altar I was crying out in my heart, ‘Lord, why won’t you hug me? I need you to hug me!’ Then you came over and prayed, ‘Lord let her feel that your love through my arms right now.’ For the first time in my life,” she continued, “I felt like I was being held by my heavenly father.”

That moment revolutionized my life. I always thought it was pride to assert my authority or position in the church. But in this situation I realized that had I not obeyed God and stepped forward to be the father that he’s called me to be, this young lady would have walked away from the altar as empty as she came. This situation confronted me with the fact that if I do not become secure in my identification with the fatherhood of God, a whole generation of sons and daughters will remain fatherless.

The calling of every pastor is to manifest the fatherhood of God in the lives of every member of the local household; the church. The one barrier that keeps us from doing so is insecurity. Insecurity is self-doubt that connects itself to my sense of identity. Insecurity means that I still need to be fathered – it means that I need a father to come alongside me and tell me who I am. Because I am still looking to be fathered, I can’t be the father that the members of my congregation need me to be. And so the fatherhood deficit in my own life gets transferred into the lives of every member of my congregation, and the sons and daughters never prophesy.

“Your sons will take the place of your fathers,” says God through the psalmist. To this point you have lived your life in search of a father. But now you will live your life in search of sons. Till now you have looked into the eyes of fathers and cried out, “Do you know who I am?” But from this day forward you will look into the eyes of sons and cry out, “Do you know who you are?” You have lived to be fathered, now you will live to be a father. You have longed to be made a prince, now you will long to make princes. There’s a whole generation of sons out there for whom the world is waiting. You will make them princes in all the earth! And it starts with the embrace of the calling; I am no longer a boy in need of a father. I will continue to be teachable and pursue instruction, but I will also recognize that God has done something in me that is reproducible now and he’s called me to reproduce. I am a pastor, and that means that I’m also a father.