U.S. Army Capt. Vasquez, a chaplain, during a Christmas Eve Mass at Camp Lemonier, Djibouti, Dec. 24, 2008. (U.S. Air Force photo by Sgt. Joe Zuccaro/Released/Courtesy PhotoPin via Creative Commons)
As a pastor under 35, I often encounter disinformation about myself and my fellow young clergy. Congregations, older clergy, pulpit search committees, and denominational leadership often fall victim to mythology about young pastors. There are many myths out there, but here are three I find most significant:
Myth #1: Young Clergy = Young Families
One of the most persistent myths about young clergy is that if a church hires (or a Bishop sends) a young pastor, young people and their families will instantly flock to the church. This is a serious fallacy. While a young pastor *could* be especially insightful in reaching young adults for Christ, discipling them, and building relationships with them, it won’t matter a hill of beans if the church itself is not invested in doing the same. If you have never asked a Christian young adult what they think about the world or what they are looking for (if at all!) in a faith community, you need to rethink if you really want young adults in your church.
Reality: A young pastor can help, but it takes a congregation dedicated to knowing, investing in, and serving with young adults to reach young adults. If you are praying for a young pastor to come so that she or he can do all the work of reaching young people, you are setting up that pastor to fail. You want a magic wand, not a pastor.
Myth #2: Young Clergy Don’t Like Older Adults
We live in a society where different generations don’t interact with regularity. The breakdown of the family means that we might not know the generations before or after us. Where ancient cultures valued the wisdom of age, our marketing-driven economy only wants the self-indulgent wallets of the 20-40 crowd. Many churches are convinced that young clergy don’t care about or aren’t interested in ministry with older adults.
Reality: This is a deep lie. Most of my young clergy colleagues value not only older clergy, from whom we have much to learn, but also the older adults we are blessed and called to serve. Stubbornness and close-mindedness are not limited to any age, and neither are joy or spiritual maturity.
Myth #3: Young Clergy All Want to Work with Youth and Children
Many of my young clergy friends who staff larger churches are often pigeonholed as the youth and/or children’s minister. While many young pastors serve very effectively in these roles, one’s age does not necessarily correspond to giftedness with various generational ministries. Just because a young pastor has three young children, it does not follow that she or he wants to work with children day-in and day-out. Just because a young clergy likes the same bands that the youth do, doesn’t mean that the new young pastor is a good fit for the youth program.
Reality: Young clergy all have different gifts, skills, and interests. Some might be great at planning contemporary worship, and others might love traditional liturgy. Some may love doing the children’s moment and others might hate it. You will meet young pastors who love visitation and pastoral care, and others who loathe it. There are young pastors passionate about administration, and others who are allergic to meetings.
The Bottom Line
Don’t assume a young pastor has a specific set of skills or interests. Ask where they are gifted, be upfront about expectations, and be realistic about desired results.
I used to think my job was hard, and then I got married. My wife is a physician, and I’ve been blessed to be her partner through MCATs, interviews, medical school, match day, and (most of) residency. United Methodist clergy go through a period of formation called “residency” before we are ordained, but trust me, it’s nothing like medical residency. I am constantly in awe of what my wife and her colleagues do: not just the technical mastery needed, not just the massive amounts of knowledge one is expected to hold or the crazy hours doctors work – but the fact lives are in their hands day in and day out, and at risk in decisions great and small.
The work of clergy is in some ways similar. If we believe that spiritual health matters at all, or that it somehow intersects with physical, mental, and emotional health, then the care of souls is critically important as well. In our democratized age of religion, many of us try to “go it alone.” But I’m here to tell you: the self-guided information about physical health available on the internet is of the same dismal quality that one finds in the spiritual realm. The care of those called to these ministries thus has some things in common, not least in the importance of formation for doctors and clergy, but also in the challenges they face. I resonate with Atul Gawande’s description of medicine in Better:
“But success in medicine has dimensions that cannot be found on a playing field. For one, lives or on the line. Our decisions and omissions are therefore moral in nature. We also face daunting expectations. In medicine, our task is to cope with illness…the steps are often uncertain. The knowledge to be mastered is both vast and incomplete. Yet we are expected to act with swiftness and consistency, even when the task requires marshaling hundreds of people…for the care of a single person. We are also expected to do our work humanely, with gentleness and concern. It’s not only the stakes but also the complexity of performance in medicine that makes it so interesting and at the same time, so unsettling.” (4)
I contend that one could replace “medicine” with “ministry” in the above, and the description would still ring true. As a friend of mine says, the work of a pastor or priest is full of both “blessings and bedevilments,” which is of course true for most, if not all, vocations.
My wife has given me newfound appreciation for medicine. Gawande has helped me see some fascinating connections between my wife’s calling and my own.
What other connections do you see? Have I overstated my case? I’d love to hear your thoughts below.
Thanks to the team over at TheUnited Methodist Reporter for the chance to offer some thoughts on vows, based in part on a recent piece that argued personal convictions trump ordination promises. If you haven’t seen it yet, the link is here.
Grace Presbytery in Texas has officially defrocked a former renewal leader who led the charge to remove Highland Park Presbyterian (one of the larger churches in the Presbytery) from the Presbyterian Church (USA). According to the report, Joseph Rightmyer lost all credentials with the church of his ordination:
“The censure imposed…was removal from the ordered ministry of teaching elder. This means that he is no longer a minister of Word and Sacrament in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) and is no longer a teaching elder member of Grace Presbytery. This is the highest level of censure permitted by the constitution of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.).”
The charges all stem from Rightmyer’s leadership of and participation in the process that removed Highland Park Presbyterian from the PCUSA and brought them into the ECO fold, including the charge of: “advocating and facilitating a process for Highland Park Presbyterian Church to determine whether to remain a member of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.).”
My guess is that this won’t actually bother Rightmyer all that much, since he will likely be enjoying the friendly embrace of ECO’s schismatic arms soon. If it does, so much the better: there should be consequences for violating one’s covenant. It’s even more troubling to me that Rightmyer led this effort in his capacity as an interim. Funny enough, when you look on Highland Park’s website under “Our Denomination,” one of the things for which they praise ECO is a commitment to covenant: “To connect leaders in accountable relationships and encourage collaboration.” I don’t they know what that word “covenant” means. This is, after all, a new denomination built on stealing congregations from the PCUSA.
This story caused a bit of a stir among some United Methodists. I find it encouraging, actually. Yes, schismatics – people who tear the fabric of our fellowship – should be defrocked. This is as much a no-brainer as there can exist in the church. Many UMs seem to have little stomach for something that is rather common in other professions (and yes, I know that clergy represent neither a business nor a “regular” profession). One regularly hears of lawyers being disbarred or doctors losing their license for malpractice of some sort or another. Some state medical boards even publicly list those whose licenses have been revoked or are facing disciplinary action. When one’s vocation can seriously impact the lives of others for good or for ill, a lack of faithfulness to that vocation should lead to consequences. We either care about the church or we don’t; refusing to hold schismatics, abusers, and incompetents accountable is not grace, it is spiritually sanctioned indifference.
It’s one thing for a pastor to find themselves at odds with the denomination that ordained them; it’s quite another to lead an exodus of clergy and/or churches from that denomination. The former is unfortunate, the latter is unconscionable.
Every healthy organism has boundaries; like a cell, a healthy boundary is permeable – it’s not a wall, but it does have substance. The UMC needs some of the intestinal fortitude shown by the PCUSA to maintain some semblance of boundaries, otherwise the organism can only grow more sick.
And remember, friends, there are schismatics on the left and the right.
His Holiness Pope Francis showing off the exact opposite of a ‘funeral face,’ courtesy Wikipedia.
In, “Wow, he never ceases to amaze” news, Pope Francis just dropped a Petrine hammer on his own inner circle. The Vatican Curia – the upper echelon leaders of the vast Vatican administrative machine – got some coal in their mitres during what is usually a pretty benign Christmas address. The short version: he said the Curia was sick. Of the 15 ‘ailments’ he named that are harming the life of the Roman Catholic Church, I thought a few especially applied to my own communion, the United Methodist Church. The full list, and the original numbering, is found here from the AP, from which the following selections are quoted. The commentary attached is my own. See if you think the Holy Father’s words are fitting for today’s UMC:
1) Feeling immortal, immune or indispensable. “A Curia that doesn’t criticize itself, that doesn’t update itself, that doesn’t seek to improve itself is a sick body.”
Going on to perfection is kind of our thing, isn’t it? In 2012, the UMC showed a remarkable ability to avoid self-improvement. How can we become a healthy body instead of a sick body?
2) Working too hard. “Rest for those who have done their work is necessary, good and should be taken seriously.”
For too many Christians, lay and clergy alike, busyness has become a status symbol and an idol. Why don’t our clergy preach sabbath? Why don’t our churches expect it of their pastors?
5) Working without coordination, like an orchestra that produces noise. “When the foot tells the hand, ‘I don’t need you’ or the hand tells the head ‘I’m in charge.'”
It is easy to look upon other corners of the church as backwards, our out there, or fruitless, or whatever. But we are all in this together, folks. (By the by, Bishop Grant Hagiya recently had some great things to say about the Pacifict-Northwest, often dismissed by Methodists here in the Bible Belt, on episode #7 of the WesleyCast). Moreover, coordination – aligning our ministries, resources, and energies – is critical to accomplishing our ministry. See also #1.
6) Having ‘spiritual Alzheimer’s.’ “We see it in the people who have forgotten their encounter with the Lord … in those who depend completely on their here and now, on their passions, whims and manias, in those who build walls around themselves and becomes enslaved to the idols that they have built with their own hands.”
Ask about rescinding the Guaranteed Appointment and watch our clergy suddenly develop ‘spiritual Alzheimer’s.’
7) Being rivals or boastful. “When one’s appearance, the color of one’s vestments or honorific titles become the primary objective of life.”
We are too damned competitive with each other. The megachurch pastors all want the number one spot. The mid-size church in town competes with the large downtown church. On a charge, the smaller church or churches feel inferior to the larger. Clergy boast about “God’s work” in their church, sharing posts on social media about all the amazing things going on but really we just want our colleagues and superiors to think better of us. In internet parlance, this is called a “humblebrag.” All of this is poison. Pure poison.
9) Committing the ‘terrorism of gossip.’ “It’s the sickness of cowardly people who, not having the courage to speak directly, talk behind people’s backs.”
Christians should not be gossips, and we in the UMC are as guilty as anyone. We talk behind the backs of our pastors, our lay leadership, our bishops, etc.. We of all people know the power of words to make and unmake lives, galaxies, families, and churches. Clergy should take the lead in condemning gossip in all its forms. Dave Ramsey’s (I know, I know) take is helpful. If you think Ramsey is too strong on this, remember – the Pope just called this terrorism.
12) Having a ‘funeral face.’ “In reality, theatrical severity and sterile pessimism are often symptoms of fear and insecurity. The apostle must be polite, serene, enthusiastic and happy and transmit joy wherever he goes.”
The subtext for too many of our denominational gatherings – international, national, and local – is death. We Methodists wear the funeral face well. We shouldn’t. As another Bishop of Rome, John Paul II, said, “We are Easter people and hallelujah is our song.”
14) Forming ‘closed circles’ that seek to be stronger than the whole. “This sickness always starts with good intentions but as time goes by, it enslaves its members by becoming a cancer that threatens the harmony of the body and causes so much bad — scandals — especially to our younger brothers.”
If all or most of your friends are on the same side as you, in the church or in the world – you need to rid yourself of this sickness. Caucuses (such as the IRD, RMN, Good News, and Love Prevails) have done the UMC precisely what some of the Founders – quite correctly – warned that parties would do the the US. If you want to affiliate with some sub-group of the UMC, fine; but we are contributing to the dissolution of the church and our own spiritual myopia if we only associate with like-minded folk.
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There’s my annotated, partial list of Pope Francis’ recommendations for United Methodists. What do you think? What should be added? Might the UMC benefit from a similar speech from one of our Bishops?
St. Martin and the Beggar, by El Greco. Courtesy Wikimedia Commons.
Perhaps this is more well known than I imagined, but I found this fascinating. The word ‘chaplain’ comes from 8th-century pre-battle liturgical practices:
Cappellani [chaplains] originally came from the cappa [cloak] of blessed Martin; the Frankish kings commonly took it with them in battle because it helped them to victory; because they carried it and cared for it with other saints’ relics, clerics began to be called chaplains.
This means that chaplaincy has a decidedly military origin: both in St. Martin, himself a former soldier turned Bishop, and in the use of his half-cloak, venerated as a relic by medieval kings. Today, chaplains in many contexts still care in the name of Christ at the service of soldiers, doctors, prisons, and ultimately, the church.
Thank God for them.
Source: Andrew Totten, “Moral Soldiering and Soldiers’ Morale,” in Military Chaplaincy in Contention (Surrey: Ashgate, 2013), 22.
Jeremiah lamenting the destruction of Jerusalem, by Rembrandt. Courtesy Wikimedia commons.
There are few roles in Scripture as misunderstood as that of the prophet. In conservative circles, “prophecy” is shrunken down to telling the future, usually by studying arcane tables and charts relating Daniel and Revelation to try and figure out when “the end” is coming. These people are usually tying to sell you something. In progressive Christian circles, being “prophetic” is essentially a baptized form of activism. Both of these miss the mark substantially.
First, a Definition
Michael Coogan notes,
“The English word ‘prophet’ comes from Greek and literally means ‘spokesperson.’ It expresses the understanding that the prophets were delivering divinely sent messages. The primary content of these messages…was interpretation of phenomena and events from a divine perspective.” (300)
As we will see, this definition precludes both of the popular distortions of the prophetic vocation in the church today.
Prophecy is Not About the Future
Note the definition above. The primary content of prophetic utterance was interpretation of the here and now. The future may be involved, but it is to render change in the present. As Abraham Heschel puts it, “The prominent theme is exhortation, not mere prediction…his essential task is to declare the word of God to the here and now.” (14-15) Thus, fundamentalist and/or dispensationalist obsessions with prophecy as Biblical keys to the future or present are sorely missing the mark, no matter how many Mayan calendars or blood moons are there for the taking.
Prophecy is Not About Activism
One of the most inane tropes in Mainline Protestantism is the ease with which every Tom, Dick, or Harriet with an M.Div. will claim the prophetic mantle for themselves. Far too often we see well-meaning progressives high-five each other ad nauseam as if they were the new incarnation of Jeremiah himself. But the prophets rarely smiled (look at the Rembrandt above), and they certainly weren’t excited about being prophetic. “None of the prophets seems enamored with being a prophet,” says Heschel, “nor proud of his attainment.” (20)
This is quite contrary to how many would-be prophets actually comport themselves. In North Carolina, I recently watched the spectacle of colleagues gleefully taking selfies at the State House every Monday for weeks on end, part of the “Moral Monday” protests that dominated the headlines for quite some time. (I am no fan of the Republican-ruled state legislature at present, but it’s preposterous to assume that there was not immorality going on before the GOP took over.) That is, we don’t see many joyful prophets lighting up Instagram in the Bible. Thus Heschel gravely concludes, “To be a prophet is both a distinction and an affliction.” (21)
Moreover, the problem with identifying prophetic work with any kind of activism or truth-telling (whether in church or society) is that it cuts both ways on the ideological spectrum. If one talks to enough folks on the left and the right – and this is especially true the UMC at present – you learn that both sides feel like besieged, risk-taking prophets standing up to a stiff-necked church. Both sides, to use a hackneyed phrase, believe they are “speaking truth the power.” Heschel was certainly right when he notes, “God is raging in the prophet’s voice.” (6) But what if the prophets are self-selected? Therein lies the perennial danger: we too quickly assume our own fury for that of the Divine.
A Solution: From Power to Reflection
In his wonderful little book In the Name of Jesus, Henri Nouwen names temptations common to leadership and offers particular disciplines as solutions. He concludes this brief treatise by discussing the temptation “to be powerful.” In different ways, both the right-wing and left-wing perversions of the prophetic are temptations to power. Fundamentalists manipulate Scripture to show forth their own insight and giftedness, unlocking “secrets” of the end times heretofore unknown. In so doing they often amass large followings (and bank accounts). Progressives too quickly make use of the prophetic role to mask their own ideological agendas with a veneer of Biblical authority, and claim God’s voice for whatever the cause happens to be that week.
For Nouwen, the solution is “theological reflection.” He concludes,
“Few ministers and priests think theologically. most of them have been educated in a climate in which the behavioral sciences, such as psychology and sociology, so dominated the educational milieu that little true theology was being learned. Most Christian leaders today raise psychological or sociological questions even though they frame them in scriptural terms. Real theological thinking, which is thinking with the mind of Christ, is hard to find in the practice of ministry. Without solid theological reflection, future leaders will be little more than pseudo-psychologists, pseudo-sociologists, psuedo-social workers.” (65-66)
Theological reflection is critical because without it, we will too quickly mistake our words for God’s, and so make fools of ourselves when speaking on His behalf (as a pastor, I’ve done this more than once). This discipline is sorely lacking in every corner of the church, Mainline or Evangelical, Catholic or Charismatic. Such a poverty of theological insight is all the more problematic because we (all of us, including the author) are quick to forget that we are not brilliant by virtue of living in the 21st century or having masses of education. The great missionary and ecumenist Lesslie Newbigin points out that we may come to different conclusions than Paul, but that doesn’t make us Paul’s moral superiors; we are apt to be as blind to some things in our day as Paul may have been to certain obvious evils in his. Instead, says Newbigin,
“The true reading of history seems to be this, that every new increase of man’s mastery over earth and sea and sky opens up possibilities not only of nobler good, but also of baser and more horrible evil, and that even those movements of social progress which can point to real achievement in the bettering of society have to be put side by side with these equally real movements of degeneration which have sometimes actually arisen out of the same social improvements.” (17)
In other words, what we consider “prophetic” may in reality unleash something more horrific than that which we speak out against. Or, on the other hand, our obsession with seeing the future may blind us to the needs of the present. We are all still afflicted by the fall, and this side of the eschaton we must be wary of confusing our mouth with the mouth of God, or to conflating our will with the will of Christ. A steady discipline of theological reflection, done with and through the church and her teachers – and including those with whom we disagree – is the only way that the prophetic task can escape the hubris of either future-casting or banal activism. The prophetic task (as noted at the top) of interpreting events and phenomena from a Divine perspective is an awesome and humbling vocation, and one that none of us should assume too quickly nor hold lightly.
I’ll let Nouwen have the last word:
“I think we are only half aware of how secular even theological schools have become. Formation in the mind of Christ, who did not cling to power but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, is not what most seminaries are about. Everything in our competitive and ambitious world militates against it. But to the degree that such formation is being sought and realized, there is hope for the Church of the next century.” (69-70)
P.S. My apologies to those who had trouble viewing this before. I had severe problems with WordPress continuing to revert it to a draft after publishing. I think I have fixed it now. Thanks for your patience.
Sources:
Coogan, Michael D. The Old Testament: A Historical and Literary Introduction to the Hebrew Scriptures (New York: Oxford University Press 2006).
Newbigin, Lesslie. Signs Amid the Rubble: The Purposes of God in Human History (Grand Rapids: Eerdman’s 2003).
Nouwen, Henri. In the Name of Jesus: Reflections on Christian Leadership (New York: Crossroads 1989).
Acting like Jesus is often highly irrelevant, and yet beautiful, like Pope Francis washing feet.
When Henri Nouwen found himself among the mentally disabled of the L’Arche Community, he learned something about himself: the skills, knowledge, and “value” that he thought he had were all meaningless to that particular community. This caused him to reevaluate his understanding of Christian leadership, which is spelled out in his marvelous little treatise In the Name of Jesus:
“I am telling you all this because I am deeply convinced that the Christian leader of the future is called to be completely irrelevant and to stand in this world with nothing to offer but his or her own vulnerable self. That is the way Jesus came to reveal God’s love…Jesus’ first temptation was to be relevant: to turn stones into bread.” (17)
Of course, this is almost the exact opposite advice many Christian leaders are given today. We go to workshops, drown ourselves in piles of books, and rack up CEU’s as if they are lottery tickets (one of them will be the key to a life and ministry of ease!) all in search of new skills, techniques, and methods. Most of all, we want to matter. Such is a tragic, if not pathetic, position for pastors in the twilight of Christendom, when many in the West view the church at best as little more than a vendor of religious services (marriages and burials, crisis intervention, a baptism to keep grandmother happy, etc.). Pastors are faced with the temptation to be something more, something objectively useful: a “real” counselor, a life coach, a motivational speaker, a fundraiser, a master of conflict resolution. We want something to show that says, “I promise I really DO matter!”
But all of this may be deeply misguided:
“The question is not: How many people take you seriously? How much are you going to accomplish? Can you show some results? But: Are you in love with Jesus? Perhaps another way of putting the question would be: Do you know the incarnate God?” (24)
For Nouwen, the cure for this temptation is a discipline both ancient and (to the astonished ears of hipster pastors everywhere) relevant: contemplative prayer. Such prayer takes us back to the heart of God, the place of our true identity, meaning, and value:
“To live a life that is not dominated by the desire to be relevant but is instead safely anchored in the knowledge of God’s first love, we have to be mystics. A mystic is a person whose identity is deeply rooted in God’s first love…contemplative prayer deepens in us the knowledge that we are already free, that we have already found a place to dwell, that we already belong to God, even though everything and everyone around us keeps suggesting the opposite.” (28-29)
To put it another way: church leaders would do best to begin any task, goal, discussion, study, or discernment not by asking “what works?” or “what must we do?” but rather by seeking the face of God. Amazing things happen when we refuse the temptation to relevance, and instead act, not out of calculated strategies and therapeutic utilitarianism, but out of an encounter with the living God of Scripture and the Church.
There are some terrifying stories in Lloyd Rediger’s Clergy Killers. Laity and clergy alike would benefit from reading this, as he describes and gives coping strategies for the different kinds of conflict that one finds in church. Part of Rediger’s argument, based on service as a counselor to clergy for decades, is that clergy support systems are embarrassingly inadequate:
“The breakdown and malfeasance statistics for clergy are high (upward of 25 percent) and rising. Because the health of the clergy is crucial to the health of the denomination, realistic clergy support is mandatory. This does not imply pampering incompetent and lazy clergy; it means encouraging al clergy toward excellence. It is obvious that traditional assumptions and strategies regrading clergy sport are inadequate. Perhaps clergy, out of self-interest and pastoral concern for their families, and the church, can lead the way.”
To my clergy colleagues: do you have an adequate support system?
To those in the church who care for their pastoral leaders: are you doing all you can to encourage and resource your pastors for their own spiritual, physical, and emotional well-being?
Never forget: the most dangerous pastor in the world is the lone ranger. We can’t do this alone: we need God, we need each other, we need friends and loved ones. An isolated ministry is a dangerous ministry, for everyone involved.
As go the leaders, so go the church. Healthy institutions require healthy leadership at all levels. Rediger’s wisdom is a good reminder of this.
How often do we send this message to people discerning a call to ministry?
There is a piece of advice I heard in seminary that is oft-repeated, and one that I have come to dislike. It originates with Spurgeon, as pointed out in a great article over at Gospel Coalition:
“Do not enter the ministry if you can help it,” was the deeply sage advice of a divine to one who sought his judgment. If any student in this room could be content to be a newspaper editor, or a grocer, or a farmer, or a doctor, or a lawyer, or a senator, or a king, in the name of heaven and earth let him go his way; he is not the man in whom dwells the Spirit of God in its fulness, for a man so filled with God would utterly weary of any pursuit by that for which his inmost soul pants.
I have two problems with this view, especially since it is so often regurgitated. (Don’t believe me? Check out here and here and here and the comments section here.) The two are:
1. This advice assumes that ministry requires only one skill or ability.
2. This also implies that ministry is uniquely difficult.
First, the “do anything else” advisers seem to want to drive away anyone from the pulpit that has any real skills! Of course an authentic calling – both internal and external – is greatly important. But calling does not imply a dearth of talents. There is no one “ministry gene” that someone needs to faithfully heed the call to church leadership. Instead, ministry requires a group of diverse skills, which will vary depending on the context. In my own setting – pastoring a small church – a normal week could requires skills in writing, oratory, management, long-range planning, counseling, caregiving, conflict resolution, research, coaching, and staff development. Even more specific ministry roles (for instance, youth ministry or executive pastor positions) will require a wide range of personal and professional skills. Does anyone possess them all? No, that’s why we focus on our strengths and manage our weaknesses.
But all this goes to show that someone who will excel in ministry could likely succeed in a wide variety of fields related to leadership, communication, education, etc. To say to someone discerning a call to ministry that they should only go through with it if that cannot possibly do anything else is to drive away a great deal of talent and promise from the church.
Second, pastors are good at complaining talking about how difficult our work is. This is what the table conversation at an inordinate number of clergy gatherings might consist of, if you don’t choose your seat wisely. For me, implied within the “do anything else” advice is a warning: “This work is so arduous and frustrating that you won’t make it unless this is your last resort, unless God has made sure you ABSOLUTELY can’t do anything else!” Much of this way of thinking leans tends to this direction. One of the above advisers puts it this way:
On the whole (with exceptions) the hours are long, the people are a problem (indeed without the interaction with people the Pastorate world be great!) and the pay is poor. I am not even sure about the retirement benefits.
As one of my mentors taught me to recognize, “everyone works hard.” Especially in today’s economy, there is no work that is not difficult, that does not have unreasonable expectations, long hours, and little reward. Every company – for-profit or not – is attempting to get more out of its employees while paying less. No one makes what they are worth, with very few exceptions. Pastors would do well to remember that our people are in the same boat we are, and often (here I’m thinking of ordained UMC elders) we have more job security than they do. Our work is not uniquely hard. It would be more accurate to say our work is hard uniquely. In other words, ministry is not hard the way that a factory or office job might be, but is difficult because of the various skills needed (enumerated above) and the emotional toll that the week-in, week-out grind of church life can take – especially when funerals, sickness, conflict, and other emotionally draining parts of our vocation begin to pile up.
In closing, we should close with a word of hope. Vocational ministry is not easy, but then, no one has it easy. We would do well to remember that all of us look to the same source to sustain us. Easter reminds us that death and meaninglessness do not win, that our work, when tied to the work of God (any work done for God’s glory is ministry, after all), will finally find its consummation in that Kingdom that is to come:
Ministry is difficult. Therefore the great challenge of ministry is to be the sort of characters who can sustain the practices and virtues of ministry for a lifetime. What we require is some means of keeping at ministry – preparing and delivering sermons, visiting the sick, counseling the troubled, teaching the ignorant, rebuking the proud – even when we don’t feel like it, even when it does not personally please us to do so. Fortunately for the church, Easter will not let us give up, though we have ample reason, in the present age, to do so. We are not permitted to give up on ministry because God, if the story of Easter is as true as we believe it to be, doesn’t give up on ministry in the world. As prisoners of hope, we keep working in the expectancy that God’s kingdom will come, that God’s will is going to be done on earth as in heaven. (Will Willimon, Calling and Character, 55)
Uniting Grace 