As this post is re-published from the author's brilliant contemplations, I want to invoke all of 1 Corinthians 13. He is now a former pastor, primarily due to succumbing to the enormous burden of pastoring. The greatest caution I have been given repeatedly is the fact that once a man and his family enter or begin pulpit ministry, their life is pretty much public. Privacy is no longer a premium in ministry as there are many people in the flock who need your attention and counsel. Not only are there people who need you but people waiting for you to fail, both inside and outside the fellowship. No longer is my life about me. Well, Anthony Moore has great advice for that. Again and again many pastors who have served for over four decades offer such calming advice, all based around the theological pillar of grace. We in the church only get to enjoy a very special grace through faith in Jesus Christ. Treasure troves are deposited into a Christian's life at salvation and grace is one of those fortunes we now possess through inheritance (Ephesians 1:3-14).
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"Thirteen
years have passed since our 35-1 National Championship run. Much has taken
place since those glory days. For starters, I married a hall of famer, Natasha
Neal, and together we have three beautiful boys: Marcus, Titus, and Malachi.
Then, with great impact to my athletic figure, I exchanged my basketball shorts
for a bible and a pulpit. Very few people know me now as an athlete anymore and
most, if not all, value me pastorally navigating a difficult situation more
than they do me navigating a particular defense. Still, pastoring and being an
athlete have a lot in common, and in at least one way you might not have
considered. Both being a pastor and an athlete come with public praise and
scrutiny. Both require great discipline and perseverance. And, in both
disciplines, those in attendance tend to overlook the amount of work invested
in what’s being executed. Also, a successful pastor and a successful athlete
should have in common a real understanding of one’s weaknesses. It’s this last
point that I wish to consider just for a moment in light of pastoral ministry.
Human Perfection is an Allusion
In pastoring, and I would
say the Christian life in general, there’s always the temptation to project an
image of oneself that’s more adept and polished than what is actualized. Yet,
faulty presentations of self are never lasting. When the athlete pretends to be
better than he or she is, exposure is ushered in on the tides of failure and
defeat. For the pastor, however, the greatest danger is not the loss of a game
but rather every step toward achieving a polished look is a step toward
deconstructing the portrait of grace in one’s life. Think about it for a
moment: If the leaders we are to emulate in the church are perfect, in what
sense are they, the leaders, able to point to the truth found in Scripture that
Christ Jesus came to save sinners? It’s in light of this truth that I gladly
make this confession—I’m a bad pastor! Here are three reasons why:
I’m Sinful
First, I’m sinful. I’m not
the Good Shepherd in John 10. Jesus is.
I sin daily and have to repent of things like anger, pride, and anxiety to my
friends, family, and you the congregation. This is not a ploy or cute literary
device. It’s the reality of the situation. When the Lord pronounces judgment on
the counterfeit shepherds in Ezekiel 34, the
operative question becomes, “Who, then, will shepherd God’s people?” The Lord
answers that question with over fifteen references to Himself in one chapter as
the one who will shepherd His people. Is that clear enough?! Of course, we know
that Jesus is the means by which God indeed becomes the great Shepherd of His
people. Why does that matter? It matters because Jesus is the great and perfect
Shepherd of His people so I don’t have to be. I don’t have to be perfect and
coming to grips with that is key. For example, the athlete who never
acknowledges weaknesses will make light of the strength of his teammates and,
therefore, fail to understand his need to lean on them when it’s needed most.
So, too, the pastor must learn to acknowledge his weaknesses and utter
dependency on Christ and His Word. That’s done by exposing weaknesses and
painting big and beautiful portraits of the truth of the Gospel: God saves and
uses sinners for His glory!
I’m Young
Second, I’m young. Don’t
get me wrong, I’m competent. Or, at least I’ve thought intentionally about
pastoring for 10 years (2 degrees at a seminary and an internship). My point
is, I have so much to learn. I’m still a kid at heart. I’m still learning and
still growing and trying desperately not to make childish mistakes. I have been
through so much in my life and yet I feel like a pup. As a pastor, it’s my
unwillingness to come to grips with my youthfulness that causes me to fail to
give myself permission to grow. I want to be the pastor now that I will be in
15 years, Lord willing. That’s a high ambition with lofty expectations. If I make
peace with that mentality, then I’ll quickly become heavy laden with despair.
And one bad sermon or a botched counseling case or disappointed member will
send me into a tail spin. That’s a very precarious place for a pastor,
especially when the King of Kings and Lord of Lords has promised to build his
church regardless of my carefully crafted illustration or ability to bring
gospel truth to a situation. Related to the previous point, God is calling
shepherds to demonstrate gospel growth to our congregation, not perfection.
I Can Be Hurt
Finally, I can be hurt! My
greatest strength is that I love people. I really do. I invest in relationships
and want them to be deep and authentic. Yet, like most people, my greatest
strength is also my greatest weakness. My identity in Christ should free me up
to truly love people. But, often times my identity can be more informed by
people’s perception of how I’m caring for them than by my status in Christ. In
those moments, it may not seem like it but I’m overcome by pride. I’m caring
for people as a means of making much of myself. The world, my relationships,
and God himself exists to serve me and difficulty comes when they don’t make
much of me as I think they should. What does that mean? It means that I’m a
sinner and have a propensity to commit sins, even sins against those I’m
charged to shepherd. Often times my first response when confronted with my sin
is to retreat. It helps me protect myself and provides me with a way around
pain. Yet, that response is inconsistent with how my savior willingly gave His
life for me. I should confess the opposite of perfection, I’m a sinner and I
need Him more and more each day.
Christ’s Perfection is Real
I remembered sharing my
struggles with an older pastor whom I respect and love and he responded and
said, “Man, why are you in ministry again?” Seems harsh, but I think his words
were needed. The weaknesses I have (and any weaknesses that could be stated)
make me the least likely candidate to pastor. But herein lies the point: “God chose
what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the
world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world,
even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human
being might boast in the presence of God” (1 Cor 27-29). The
point, Paul concludes, “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.” Hence, if
there is one compelling reason why I’m fit to pastor here at this church it is
because I truly trust the power of the Spirit and the word of God to build His
church––not my ability to craft sermons, not my personality, and certainly not
my ability to be perfect. I trust Christ and the power of His Word. So, I have
no problem admitting how and why I’m a bad pastor. If you’re a pastor or serve
in a leadership position in your church, I would suggest you write a similar
letter to your people. Try starting with something like this, “I’m a bad pastor
and here’s why!”
Source: http://thefrontporch.org/2015/08/im-a-bad-pastor-and-why-i-think-its-worth-saying-so/
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