The Challenge of Ministry

Ever since becoming a pastor I've been challenged spiritually in ways that I hadn't been before. I think this is because having the responsibility to lead other Christians makes me much more aware of my own weaknesses and flaws. So if there are ways that I have still to grow spiritually, I can't very well help others grow in that way. I can't lead anyone where I haven't been.

The challenge is that perhaps as a pastor I feel more than other Christians the responsibility to grow spiritually and work on my relationship with God not only for my own sake but for the sake of others. For if as a pastor I am not growing in my own spiritual walk, if I am not active in prayer, Bible study, etc., then this will have an effect on people in my congregation. It will show up in my preaching, in my ability to minister to them spiritually, and in my attempts to build up the ministries of the church and provide leadership. If I were just another person in the pew, so to speak, I could neglect my own faith without others experiencing detrimental effects to theirs. Or so I could think.

Well, I do think so, at least to some extent, but I don't want to give the impression that pastors are a class apart from other believers. I don't want to give the impression that pastors intrinsically have more influence on other Christians than other Christians. Truth be told, probably in a lot of cases I have less influence on the people in my church than they have on one another. And if this is so, then that is as it should be in the body of Christ.

But I suppose that as a pastor I have more influence than other Christians in our congregation on the general direction, tone, sense of mission, and overall atmosphere of our church community. That can be a heavy responsibility. And given that, just like any believer, I have my own spiritual weaknesses, failings, spiritual blindspots, and more persistent temptations, there are moments when I feel the weight of it even more profoundly.

In no other vocation is personal faith so tied to one's daily responsibilities. While most Christians can go to their respective jobs and workplaces without bringing their faith directly into the picture, as a pastor there is less of a clear demarcation line between the personal and professional. They spill over into one another.

This isn't also to say that Christians who pursue other careers, jobs, employment, etc., aren't supposed to allow their faith to shine through in their relationships with co-workers and employers, but odds are they can perform their jobs just as effectively whether they do so or not. The skill set required of their position doesn't likely include prayer and biblical exegesis!

For as a pastor my primary responsibility is to devote myself to prayer and Scripture study. These two practices ought to form a large part of my "work-week." Yet if I wasn't a pastor, as a believer prayer and reading my Bible would still be a part of my daily life. It's just that I would have to work around a pre-existing job schedule. I'd have to find time for these things outside my work hours. As it is, prayer and Bible study are a part of my nine-to-five. That in itself distinguishes me as a pastor from my brothers and sisters in Christ.

Getting back to where I started, such a vocation is a spiritual challenge precisely because a personal spiritual walk is a challenge; and they are both challenges in similar ways. And even the significant distinguishing characteristic, that I pray as a part of my nine-to-five and others prayer in addition to their nine-to-five, isn't that significant after all.

I just mean that since every Christian is a member of the body of Christ, we are all responsible for one another's spiritual growth. As Paul says, we are "members of one another." To that end, we're all ministers. There is no lay person-clergy distinction. There is, but only in terms of spiritual function and level of spiritual maturity. But we are all charged with the job of helping each other follow Jesus more faithfully.

The challenge I feel as a pastor in my own spiritual walk is one that should be common to us all. It's just that as a pastor that sense of responsibility has been thrown into sharp relief. It's more pronounced is all, because it's both whom I am and what I do. If other believers in any given congregation don't feel this challenge in some measure -- a challenge to grow in their faith and to help others grow likewise -- then this speaks to their own relationship with God, and not necessarily in a positive way. Life throws lots of roadblocks and potholes in our way as we travel on the highway of faith, and sometimes this means we sidestep these challenges and instead decide simply to get along with a bare minimum. But of course, Peter tells us to "make every effort." Though the formation of Christian character and the maturation of disciples takes place through in the power of the Spirit, the Spirit can accomplish nothing of value in our lives if we are not willing to cooperate.

So I think what I said at the beginning isn't true. Not exactly. Yes, there are challenges specific to pastoral ministry. But I've always been challenged in the ways I've been talking about this whole -- challenged to pray more consistently, to read Scripture more faithfully, to follow Jesus more obediently -- and as a pastor I think I've just found that I've been challenged in these areas more deeply and more profoundly. I can't quite explain it. But, again, all Christians are rightfully challenged in these areas. Maybe as a pastor I just find myself face to face with these challenges in way that is unique to this vocation in finding myself straddling that divide between personal and professional.

As one fellow blogger often puts it, enough rambling.

Sorry, no pictures.

Preaching Through a Series

Our church is using some resources from Natural Church Development. We recently did a survey which gives us a good indication of relative strengths and weaknesses (or as NCD calls them, minimal and maximum factors). Working through the results of that survey ought to, in principle, enable us to increase the health of our church, and church health is measured through eight categories or what NCD calls the eight quality characteristics. Part of my role in this process is to preach a series based on these characteristics. And I have already begun doing do, though without making a big deal that this is a series. Over the next several weeks I'll work through them all.

Thus far I have prepared three related messages: "God the Giver," "Being Gifts," and "The Gift of Love" (which I preach this Sunday). It was only partway through the process of preparing "Being Gifts" that it occurred to me that this could be the beginning of the NCD series. And as you can see, another theme ties all these messages (so far!) together: that of gifts and giving.

As a pastor, I love when I can carry a theme through several messages or when a group of sermons have something of a symmetry about them. Whether I can do this through all the NCD sermons, I have no idea. It seems unlikely, but I'll probably make some effort at seeing it happen. There will be some topics in the series that simply will not relate to the idea of gifts and giving. Here are the characteristics on which the messages will be based:

1. Gift-oriented ministry (already done: "Being Gifts")
2. Loving Relationships (this week: "The Gift of Love")
3. Holistic Small Groups
4. Passionate Spirituality
5. Inspiring Worship
6. Empowering Leadership
7. Functional Structures
8. Need-oriented Evangelism

So these are the themes. And I don't know how I will approach them all yet. A couple of them I may combine (Empowering Leadership and Functional Structures). And I might, I just might, see if if I can use the gift theme throughout. But I don't want it to be forced. Already I have a couple of ideas for the sermon on holistic small groups, and neither have to do with the gift theme. So there you go. One is "Size Matters." Just a way of pointing out the importance of having a small group and how the number of people we've gathered with affects our ability to be ourselves, be open to prayer, etc. I'm thinking of following up this week's message on loving relationships with this one. Though that title idea may be too tongue-in-cheek. Another possible title is "We Are Not Alone."

I'm nearly done my sermon for this Sunday. I probably could have finished it yesterday, but some circumstances got in the way. I'll be on daddy duty tonight while my wife is out for the evening so it has to be finished either before I bring my daughter home or after she goes to bed. Once that sermon is done, I'll post it here, especially since I've already posted my two previous and related sermons here. Of course, doing this is likely making it possible for someone else to steal my sermons and pass them off as their own. I suppose, however, if they do so it ultimately hurts them and their congregations more than me.

Hey pastors out there--do you typically preach in a series or do you preach stand alone sermons? Do you have a preference? And do you take particular care in titling your messages or in making all your points alliterative? Maybe in doing those last couple of things I am a little crazy.

Tomorrow's Sermon--"Being Gifts"

I hope that anyone reading this tonight (Saturday, April 3) isn't from my congregation, because that means they'll be getting a double dose of sermonizing. I posted another sermon recently on God as Giver and this one is the follow-up to that one. It's on spiritual gifts. Hope it provides some food for mind and heart. Here it is:

“Being Gifts”
1 Corinthians 12:1 – 26

Introduction—giving what God has given

Now you may not know it by just looking at me, but I don’t know much about cars. Really! Let me tell you a story, just in case you need me to prove my point. Though I’m guessing you probably believe me and don’t need the convincing!

Almost a year ago our car began giving us some trouble. It wouldn’t start when we turned the key. In fact, it wouldn’t do anything when we turned the key. Once, when we were supposed to go into Saint John for an appointment, our car refused to start in our driveway. So I called Ronnie Sullivan. Ron and Gail lived close and I figured he probably knew more about cars than me. He came over, examined our engine carefully, spent time going over different options, and eventually was able to get the car going. At first just getting a boost seemed to do the trick. That didn’t last. Ronnie thought it was either the battery or possibly the fuel pump. It turned out to be the fuel pump.

When our car wouldn’t start, I needed someone else to help. This is because I know virtually nothing about cars. I’m the kind of person who, if I ever found myself stranded on the side of the road unable to get my car started, would open the hood, look at the engine and hope against hope that I would see a big, brightly coloured OFF/ON button! So I need someone else who really knows what to look for under the hood of our car. Thankfully Ronnie was available to give his time, knowledge, and experience—and in giving these things, he gave himself to help me.

A few weeks ago we talked about how everything we have is sheer gift, given us by God the ultimate Giver; how we do not deserve the gifts he gives; and how as a result we are called to become good givers ourselves. Now this week we’re going to elaborate on that last point: what it means to become good givers. Specifically, I want to talk about is spiritual gifts. We’ll see that it’s about giving to others what God has given to us. And hopefully at the end of all this we will see that it’s not so much about what gifts we have as it is what gifts we are.

God gives us all spiritual gifts

I have a close friend whose son will soon be five years old. So he and his wife are now looking into educational options. Their son is also exceptionally bright, and is already doing grade three reading and math, so they have understandable concerns about how he will take to the public school system. Friends at their church who are teachers have already told them that the public system isn’t going to know what to do with him! We could easily say, then, that this little boy is gifted.

Not every child is gifted in this sense. Not every boy and girl is this advanced in their skills and abilities. Not every four year old boy and girl is capable of reading at a grade three level. So we call such children gifted. The problem is that sometimes we take that term—gifted—and apply it in ways that are inappropriate.

In other words, when we hear the word gifted, we usually hear the word “exceptional.” Or we hear some people but not me. “Sure,” you think, “Some people can work at an advanced level, but I’m average. I’m not gifted.”

So then we apply this logic to the notion of spiritual gifts. People hear “spiritual gifts” and think that this term only applies to a select few, perhaps the spiritually elite of the church. They think of spiritual giftedness in the same way that we think of a gifted child, as the exception rather than the rule. But this isn’t how Scripture sees it.

We read from 1 Corinthians 12 this morning. And there Paul lists some spiritual gifts. He does the same in Ephesians 4 and Romans 12. These lists of gifts in Scripture are not exhaustive. In other words, there are spiritual gifts that God can give to his people that are not listed here. For instance, I don’t see listed in any of these passages the gift of music—and, no, singing does not count as speaking in tongues! But certainly we would include music as a spiritual gift. This just means that if you find yourself scanning these Scriptures and don’t see anything you think might be your spiritual gift, it doesn’t mean you don’t have one; it just means Paul didn’t mention it.

This means that every Christian—every person who has accepted Christ as Lord and confesses him with their lips and lives—has a spiritual gift. This is the rule and there are no exceptions. That means each of us is gifted! So if you are born again and trust in God as your redeemer, you have a spiritual gift, whether you know what it is or not.

Spiritual gifts are simply the unique ways God has made it possible for each of us to serve one another, to give ourselves to one another in love, for the purpose of growing in Christ. God has made you to serve those around you in a way that is uniquely you. Your specific combination of passions, interests, talents, experiences, and personality all come together to make your unique giftedness. It’s not just about what you have. Who you are is a gift.

God only gives the gifts we need

How many of you remember the comic strip by Gary Larson called The Far Side? I remember seeing one once that showed a huge group of penguins. Now of course all of these penguins looked the same. And right in the middle of the cartoon one of these penguins was standing up, holding his little wings in the air, and singing at the top of his lungs, “I gotta be me!” This poor penguin, though he looked exactly like all the others, wanted desperately to be unique, to be different, to be distinct from the crowd around him.

As we can see in our passage, Paul tells us there are a variety of gifts and activities given us by God. Paul makes this quite clear. Also clear is the fact God gives these gifts according to his will and purposes. We’re not the ones who determine our gifts: “All these [gifts] are activated by one and the same Spirit, who allots to each one individually just as the Spirit chooses,” Paul says in v.11. Earlier he says “there are varieties of activities but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone.” God decides who gets what gifts.

Sometimes we don’t like people who are different. From a very young age we learn to exclude people because of their differences—because of how they differ from us. We learn to distinguish, and we learn to discriminate. We form cliques and sub-groups. And I’m guessing school is pretty much the same—that kids are still organized according to the groups into which they fit.

And sometimes we don’t like being different. From a very young age we learn to conform, to try and fit in so that we will be included. We minimize our differences, and often what makes us unique, what makes us us, so that others will accept us.

When either of these attitudes infects a church, it’s a sickening sight. It was happening at Corinth. Some were saying, arrogantly, that there were people in the church who weren’t needed—the eye was saying to the hand, “I don’t need you”—and some were saying that they weren’t needed—“Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body.”

But Paul undercuts both attitudes: any attitude of arrogance or superiority that looks at others and says, “I don’t need you!” and any attitude of inferiority or insecurity that looks at others and says, “They don’t need me.” Neither attitude is scriptural.

Now before I found myself in need of Ronnie’s help with our car, I might not have considered his skills and gifts that important. It’s possible that I might have thought myself superior—I have, after all, many years of theological education under my belt! Or even as he was helping me I might have lamented my own inability when it comes to cars. I might have found myself envious rather than grateful, wishing that I had his gift instead of whatever gift or gifts I have. Neither of these reactions to someone else’s skills is a good one.

But while I definitely am not the sort of person you ask over to help fix your car, the next time Ronnie can’t get any sleep because he just can’t understand the doctrine of the Trinity or because he’s particularly distressed about that whole free will-predestination conundrum, I’ll be there!

Whatever the particularities of your personality, your history, experiences, your life, you are a gift to those around you—and you are as needed as anyone else in the body of Christ. And whatever you may think of those around you, however their personality, their habits, their quirks may rub you the wrong way, they are a gift to you. We need one another precisely because of our differences. God has given us the spiritual gifts we need to grow in Christ. That is to say, we need one another to grow in Christ.

God ultimately gives us one another

I was having coffee with another pastor this past week and we were talking about spiritual gifts, and he said something that has stuck with me. He said that spiritual fruit is the fuel for the spiritual gifts. And in a way, this speaks to God’s reason for giving us spiritual gifts.

Spiritual fruit is about having the character of Jesus—about becoming more Christ-like. We need to have both the fruit of the Spirit and the gifts of the Spirit. God gives us the gifts of the Spirit so that we can help one another follow Christ. It’s how we build one another up and encourage one another. The purpose of the gifts is Christ-centered. Put another way, we are called to support each other in becoming more Christ-like.

James Packer puts it this way: “For Paul it is only through Christ, in Christ, and by learning of and responding to Christ, that anyone is ever edified. So spiritual gifts must be defined in terms of Christ as actualized powers of expressing, celebrating, displaying, and thus communicating Christ in one way or another, either by word or deed.”

As someone who plays a little guitar, I can improve my skills and my playing to a certain degree on my own. I can study and increase my understanding of music. But nothing makes a better musician than playing with other musicians. So when I practice with the worship team, I learn things that I could never learn on my own. Not to mention the fact that the music sounds better with more people playing!

I might be able to grow as a follower of Jesus on my own to a certain extent, but I can only become more fully mature as a follower of Jesus when I practice with other Christians. You’ve heard the saying about couples, “They make beautiful music together”? The same is true of Christians working together to follow Jesus.

If one of you encourages me in my walk with Christ, in the way that God enables you to do so, the gift you have given me is you. By helping me follow Christ, you are being a gift to me. That’s what spiritual gifts are ultimately about: giving ourselves to one another. Preparing for today’s message, I was reading a commentary on our passage from Paul. One of the things the author said really gets to the heart of what this is about. He said, “It is not so much a matter of having a gift as of being a gift.”

God gives us spiritual gifts; and in so doing he gives us to one another, you to me and me to you. These spiritual gifts are not only given by God, they are empowered by God’s Spirit; they are only effective because of God. This means it’s not about congratulating ourselves on whatever gifts we have, but being thankful for the gifts we are and the gifts we have in one another. Being spiritual gifts is about being Christ to one another; the purpose of these gifts is to build up the body of Christ.

To sum up, the source of these gifts is God; their power is from the Spirit; and their purpose is to lead us and others closer to Jesus. We are given to one another so that we might be more fully given over to Jesus and his kingdom. And it is because these gifts are embodied in specific people that it is, as I said, more about being gifts than having gifts. This means you can’t separate the gift from the person.

Conclusion—imitating the Giver by being gifts

In his book Free of Charge Miroslav Volf says this: “In and of itself, no particular thing in the world is a gift. We do have so-called gift shops, full of all sorts of little things we usually give to friends and acquaintances. But things sitting on the store shelf are not gifts. Just like any other thing, an item from that store becomes a gift when you buy it and give it to someone else. A gift is a social relation, not an entity or an act in itself. It is an event between people.”

Take a moment and look around you. Imagine each of the people around you as gifts—as gifts precisely in their uniqueness, because of how they are different from you—and ask yourself, “Who here has been a gift to me and how? Who here has helped me follow Christ, has helped me in my faith?” And then take another moment and ask yourself, “How can I be a gift to these people? How can I help someone else follow Christ better? How can I help someone in their walk of faith?” Knowing how you are a spiritual gift begins by asking such questions.

One of the practical consequences of thinking through spiritual gifts is considering how well our present church structures and ministries allow people opportunity to be the gifts they are and to use the gifts they have. In traditional church culture, this is how it usually goes: there are specific non-negotiable ministries and programs (Sunday school, youth group, Bible study, etc.) and so we try and find people to fit the positions needed to run these programs.

But what if ministries and programs were instead organized according to people’s spiritual gifts in the church? One of the characteristics of a healthy church according to Natural Church Development is a gift-oriented ministry. The notion here is to say, well, we have some people gifted in this area so how can we create a ministry opportunity for them and help prepare them to serve more effectively? In this model, programs and ministries are defined by who people are not simply by what we need them to do.

Such an approach to ministry, to church life, to following Jesus together as a community, does a much better job at honouring the unique ways God has made each of us. It makes ministry more about relationships than activities. It grounds our identity as a church more securely in the sovereignty of God by basing what we do on what he has given us. It helps us recognize more clearly our need for one another because the spiritual gifts are given, as Paul says, “for the common good.”

And ultimately to recognize the distinct ways God has enabled us to serve, how it is that we are gifts to each other, is what it means to honour God the ultimate Giver who has not only given us to one another but has also given himself. Today we receive these gifts, the bread and the cup, as we celebrate that God, in his infinite mercy and out of his abundant grace, has given us his Son, Jesus Christ, and that in doing so has given us life. May we, in being good stewards of the life we have been given, also be gifts to one another.

The silliness of preaching?

I was just sitting here working on my sermon for Sunday, and a thought occurred to me. It's not the first time such a thought has occurred to me either. That thought is this: isn't there something particularly silly or odd about preaching?

In no other setting can I imagine a group of people willingly (more or less!) listening to me talk about something, anything, for anywhere between 20 -- 30 minutes. There are other settings when in the middle of a conversation I find it hard to get a word in edgewise. And there are definitely times when I feel distinctly unheard by those around me. But here, for that brief time on Sunday mornings, people sit respectfully, quietly, attentively (this last one is harder to measure!) while I share what I have learned from God's word. Where else could this happen?

I was reading recently David Murrow's book, Why Men Hate Going to Church, and one of the things he said resonated a little bit. He questioned the whole standard format of the sermon as a 20 -- 30 minute lecture-style presentation of biblical truth, asking why it is that this form dominates when there is evidence to suggest that it's not the most effective means of communicating truth. Murrow argues that this is especially true for men, that men do not generally respond well to this style of presentation.

I said this resonated with me somewhat. I guess this is because sometimes when preaching I can feel this enormous gap between myself (when at the pulpit) and the congregation. Or perhaps it's better to say that I can sense a barrier. I feel set apart in a way that makes me uncomfortable and that seems to create a performer-audience dynamic. I'm on the platform, they're in the chairs, and there is this uncrossable space in between.

Preaching, however defined and executed, should ideally be done in such a way as to eliminate this barrier and bridge this gap as much as possible. All I know is that I want there to be a connection between myself and the congregation. Lots of things factor into this from style of preaching to the physical layout of the sanctuary, but if I'm going to have their attention for that amount of time I want it to be as personal an experience as possible. I guess you might say that I want my style of preaching to exemplify as much as possible the fact that faith is personal, relational, and livable. Not that I always, or even often, get there but it's something I want to grow toward.

How I preach and what I preach ought to be related. This is so because as silly as preaching may seem in some ways, it's an invaluable opportunity, an enormous privilege, and a humbling responsibility. While Christ's choosing us to bear his message may have a ring of ridiculousness about it (considering who we are), there is nothing ridiculous or silly about the message itself (considering who Christ is).

So, to return to my original thought and question: isn't there something particularly silly or odd about preaching? Yes. And the silliness, foolishness, and oddity of preaching really points to the heart of the message in a way: that God chooses and wills to redeem us, foolish and sinful and wicked as we are, and that he then chooses to use us to carry that same message to others. There's something silly about me preaching because it's me preaching.

Me.

The only thing that qualifies me for preaching is God's call and will to use me. Who am I to tell others to repent when the need for repentance still clings to me like dirt? Who am I to exhort others to live lives of love when I still put myself first in countless ways each day? Who am I to explain the truth of Christ to others when my grasp of it remains so feeble and incomplete? That I am called to preach points to the heart of the gospel. That any human being is called to preach points to the heart of the gospel. And this is why the power of preaching lies not in human words, speaking techniques, or communication skills (good and useful as all these are), but rather in the power of God himself, in his Spirit, to take whatever silly and weak words I have strung together into sentences, paragraphs, points, and punchlines, and use them to change hearts, minds, and lives. In other words, nothing is impossible with God. Even so, Sarah laughed. Sometimes we do too.

To Preach Or Not To Preach . . .

So I'm over the flu but today I feel like I could nap and sleep most, if not all, of the day away. But I can't do that. You see, today is Saturday. With tomorrow being Sunday, today I have to ready myself to preach tomorrow. I've got a sermon to finish. I must confess, however, getting back into the groove isn't proving to be easy. I suppose it's the combination of feeling tired today and of having been essentially off work for the better part of two weeks that is making getting to work today more difficult. True, I did spend some time last week working on a sermon that I never finished. So it's really been about a week or so since I've worked. Yet having had no regular work routine for so long makes it feel like it's been more than that.

I also have to decide whether I'm going to finish the sermon I planned on preaching last week when I was sick or am I going to do something else. You would think finishing a sermon already begun would be easier than that something else. But the thought has occurred to me of using an old sermon tomorrow and giving myself more time to work on that almost-done message. I have two reasons for considering this. First, I don't know if I have the energy to work through the sermon I have already started. Like I said, while I'm over the flu, I am tired today. I don't want to produce a half-hearted effort that will disappoint and fall flat.

That leads to my second reason. The sermon that I was working on is a follow-up sermon from the last one. And so I want it to be able to carry the weight it needs to have. I don't want to just say that it needs to be good--but it does, in a way. It also might be the beginning of a new series. I don't want to slough it off. I want to be able to think about it, reflect on it, pray about, etc. Even as I write this, I'm convincing myself that it needs more attention than I can give it today. Those of you out there who are preachers or who have preached know exactly what I mean.

But to take more time to prepare that sermon means preparing a different sermon for tomorrow, and as much as I love bringing something fresh to my congregation I don't know that I want to give them a "Saturday-special," a message that was entirely conceived the day before it was preached. So . . . that means what I guess you can call a recycled sermon. This is the advantage of having sermons on file my present congregation has never heard! It's not my favourite option but it works on a few levels.

Are there pastors out there who have done this? I'd love to know. Have you ever preached an old sermon to a new congregation for a similar reason or for a completely different reason? What do you think of the notion? Do you think God can take an old message and use it again? Not to compare our sermons with Scripture, but certainly that's what happens there. Paul wasn't writing to us. But what he wrote under the inspiration of the Spirit certainly speaks to us. Knowing that this is true gives me some measure of confidence that my congregation can still be blessed by my message, even if they're not the first ones who've heard it!

Sick Day(s)

Right now, it's nearly 1pm on a Sunday afternoon and I've been home all day so far. In fact, I didn't even go to church. Not exactly an earth-shattering confession for most people, but seeing as how I'm a pastor my absence tends to require a little more explanation.

And the explanation: I've got the flu. And I've had it for about a week. For about half the week it's kept me lying in bed resting and sleeping; and for the other half fooling me that perhaps I'm getting better. I thought this yesterday until after supper when such lovely symptoms like a sinus headache, chills, and aches over most of my body returned after more than a day's absence. My wife promptly called one of our deacons to let him know. These symptoms were still there when I woke up this morning and, so, my wife promptly called that same deacon to confirm the fact that I would not be in church this morning. This lucky deacon was then e-mailed a sermon I preached in our previous church so he could read it dutifully to the congregation.

One of the stranger aspects of this is that we live across the street from the church. This means I could peer out the window and see cars filling the parking lot. Could. I didn't. Though I did sneak a peek as people were leaving after the service, wondering to myself how things went and wishing I could have been a fly on the wall.

As a pastor, unless your weekly schedule is brimming over with appointments and meetings (mine is not!), the only day when people will notice you taking a sick day is Sunday. Some of the more cynical and ignorant might well think incredulously, "The only day of the week he works, and he's sick?" Thankfully, I don't believe anyone in our church is that cynical or ignorant.

It was also extra-odd because by mid-morning (say 10am) I began to feel a little better and by 11am, which is when our service begins, I felt noticeably better. Like any reasonable person, I began to feel like I could have made it to the service. Nevermind that since I was sick most of the week, including Saturday night, that I had not been able to complete my planned sermon. But as my wife reminded me, I had taken some medication, which would relieve the symptoms, and I still had a mild fever, and I shouldn't take the chance and pass on the flu to someone else.

I should say that it is not only a sick day for me. Our little girl is still fighting a cold, one she's had for three weeks. Like me, her symptoms have come and gone and come again. If she had been feeling this morning as good as she did a couple of days ago, she and my wife likely would have gone to church. As it is, my wife didn't want to leave home with a sick little girl with a runny nose and persistent cough and who also was truly fed up with being sick. At one point, she opined, "I hate my nose!"

Anyway, this flu is one reason I haven't been back here posting in awhile. I'm beginning to feel better at the moment, but I've learned already not to take that feeling at face value. So while I'd like to say I'll be posting more soon, that depends on how many sick days are actually left!

Location, Location, Location!

Our church is sort hard to find for some. If you don't know the area well, you might just get lost while on your way. And it's also on a street that's out of the way, not a main thoroughfare. We don't get a lot of drive-by traffic. In order to direct people, we do have a small street sign marked with an arrow pointing, with relative accuracy, toward our church. However, our sign is in desperate need of replacement, something I hope will happen this spring. The significance of signage is perhaps worthy of its own post. That's not my main point today. Rather, I'm thinking of that perennial catch-phrase used to express the value of land and real estate: location, location, location.

Once when talking about our church with another pastor, he commented that our church is actually in a terrible location. It should instead be at the bottom of the road that leads into our community where people would immediately see it rather than in a spot that requires a handful of left turns. As it is, our church lacks a certain obvious visibility. It's not about blinking and missing it. It's more about being situated where even if you keep your eyes peeled you're just not likely to drive by casually on the road where our church is.

Some churches, in order to improve their ministry, will take steps to improve their location. I know of one church which is currently engaged in such a re-location project. But of course not all churches have either the calling or the ability to take such measures. For some churches, ours included, our location, whatever it may be, is something with which we simply have to contend.

And this is true of life as a whole. Location defines us. We are where we are. And oftentimes we can't simply pack and move someplace else. The specificity of our location is the result of years of decisions, unforeseen circumstances, the unseen hand of God and, hopefully, all our honest if flawed attempts to listen to and follow God.

Take me, for instance. What is my location? I am geographically located in a small LSD (local service district) where I currently serve as the full-time pastor of a small, rural Baptist church. The area in which I live is not even large enough to be considered a village or town. We have no local municipality. I hadn't even heard of this place before being called as pastor! And of course my being located here has to do with not only with physical location, but a whole plethora of factors.

One of these factors in my locatedness is that I am also married. That I am not a single male also locates me in a specific place. That I am married played a role in my accepting the call as pastor both here and in my previous church. That I am married plays in a huge role in any future locatedness--my wife and I have to be in agreement about any major decisions regarding moving or a change of ministry. Yet another factor is that I am also a father. We have a young daughter who is roughly three and a half years old. This also plays a powerful determining role. Being a parent both is part of my locatedness and determines my locatedness. So family plays a huge role in my present location.

My own personal background--emotional, intellectual, relational, spiritual, etc.--also plays a huge role in my locatedness. Who I am has been shaped by a variety of influences. I am, yes, who God has made me (and continues to make me!), but I am also a product of my parents, family members, childhood experiences, schooling, encounters with people odd and normal, and in fact all of life. I can’t always articulate it precisely, but I can often sense layers of experience playing a role in present day decisions. Simply put, it's like when someone says to you, "You're just like your father!" And that's only one example.

Try as we may, we cannot entirely escape the various layers of locatedness that accumulate over time like sediment to make us what we are. Some aspects of our locatedness may be nothing more than fossils, but when excavated and revealed afresh by a present crisis or major life change or even the stress of everyday life they come to life again. Who hasn't been surprised by how we can find ourselves in a situation where we begin to think, speak, and act as if we were still that nervous middle school kid?

Much of life seems to be about dealing and negotiating with our locatedness. As I said, we are where we are. And if we can't move to another, more pleasant location, then we have to live with our current surroundings.

What I am getting at with all of this? Why have I recklessly abandoned proper grammar to make up a word like ‘locatedness’? Well, when you think of that phrase, ‘location, location, location,’ the obvious implication is that the where of where you are located makes all the difference. Whether your home is located in an upscale suburban neighbourhood or in a poor rural community will determine the price of your home. It indicates value. If you want to be somewhere worth being, then move to a better location.

Sometimes we want to change the particulars of our present location in life. Perhaps our job is unsatisfying. What about that unexplored career path? Do we wish we had made different decisions along the way? Or maybe being a parent is more stressful than we had anticipated. It could be that the kids we had weren’t part of our original plan. We thought we knew our husband or wife better when we married them. Possibly we were hoping for more material prosperity or at least more creature comforts. All in all, life is hardly perfect. Our location is not ideal. And we sometimes entertain thoughts of what re-location might be like.

But, to point out the obvious, we are where we are. Whatever our present location, that’s what we have to contend with. We can’t just quit our jobs, dump the wife, and lose the kids; though many have used such tactics to change their location. Rarely is it this simple, however. And rarely is this a good idea (Well, quitting a job may sometimes be justified). Often such a move is a poor attempt at escapism, or of loosing ourselves from unpleasant constraints in life. As they say, the grass is always greener . . .

But the fact of the matter is all locations have value at least insofar as all locations have redeemable value. That is to say, the God of the Bible is a God who is at work not only on a grand cosmic scale that encompasses galaxies and solar systems, but one who is also at work on our street, down our lane, and in our neighbourhoods and homes. Wherever we find ourselves, there is nowhere we can be where God cannot work to redeem. This means if our marriage is in trouble, God can work redemption there; if our kids are out of control, God can work redemption there; and if we don’t like our job or are struggling with what our job ought to be, God can work redemption there. So in the same moment as I find myself daydreaming or even seriously contemplating re-location, God wants me to know that he can carry out some renovations right where we are, that he can produce something of value even at our current location.

We know this because God himself acquired locatedness in the incarnation, in that most miraculous of moments when eternity entered time, when infinity became bound by limited dimensions. We know that God places eternal value on our present location because he had for a time his own location in space and time. When the Son of God became flesh and blood, the particulars of our lives, the various levels of our locatedness, took on inestimable value. This is often what is called "the scandal of particularity," the idea, offensive to many, that the truth of God revealed in Jesus is true because of its very particularity, specificity, and locatedness. Most would rather see the truth of God as revealed in Jesus as a specific instance of a more general truth that can also be seen elsewhere--this is not the only way God has revealed his truth, but one of many--than consider the possibility that only in Jesus, this particular instance of divine revelation, is the truth of God made known fully and completely. Yet this is what we as Christians believe.

And the particularity of the incarnation means that God takes seriously the here and now of where we are. Whatever our location, God cares. So whereas sometimes we'd prefer a God who would graciously remove us from specific circumstances and lift us up beyond the often messy details of our lives, instead we have a God who--according to the incarnation--"moved into the neighborhood." We have a God who instead enters into our circumstances and is present to us in the midst of them. That God is like this means that while sometimes a move to a new location is a wise decision, often God wants to save us right where we are.

So our church is not located in an ideal spot. Does that mean for God to use us to reach the surrounding community we have to move to another location in the community, that unless we do we are consigned to irrelevancy? Or is it more true to say that no church is located in an ideal spot, that our placement can never be perfect, but that despite this, God can still work miracles, wonders, and redemption in our midst anyway? While it may be true that if our church were located in a more visible spot that we might get more drive-by traffic, more frequent visitors, and have a stronger presence, I also think that we rely too much on the world's way of thinking if we reduce the potential of our church's impact to those factors. Relying too much on the world's way of thinking also makes light of God's power. Certainly he is not limited by what we define as limitations! And certainly God is not limited by location, whether that of our church or our own. To my thinking, then, if God is into real estate, then every location has value, value that comes from and is produced by him, not by any street address or spot on a map. It's all about location, all right, but it is God and not us who ultimately determines the redeemable value of any location.

Something Extraordinary

I'm about to pack up and go to the office. My wife and daughter are away until later today so I could work at home, but sometimes work requires the feel of an office. It's going to be a busy week, one that involves some rush to get things done. Or so it seems at the moment. My wife is going to an overnight retreat on Friday night which means it'll be my little girl and I until sometime Saturday evening. That means I have to have my sermon done (or at least 90% done) before Friday night. That's not how it usually works. I sort of wish the retreat was last week when, quite unexpectedly, my sermon was done just before lunch on Friday. But I have to trust that the Lord who provided then will provide this time as well. Even for a pastor, or at least this pastor, that's not always easy.

How easily our faith becomes mundane and all too ordinary, especially when we can't even muster enough trust to believe that God will help us get through a week with all its priorities and responsibilities. At our adult Bible study we were looking at Jesus' power over sin and one of the questions was: when have we questioned Jesus' power and authority? Most of us as Christians probably don't question Jesus' power and authority directly, doubting in plain sight that God can do great things. We affirm his greatness. He applaud his power. We verbally attest to our conviction that God has the authority and the power to pull off miracles. We stare in awe, blankfaced at his actions as recorded in Scripture. And then we go on living as though he can do nothing about our everyday circumstances. Our actions, as the saying goes, are more powerful than words.

If I consider that God created all the universe, that in him I live and move and have my being, how can I doubt that he can also provide me with a sermon for Sunday? If I consider that all things are made in, through, and for Christ, how can I doubt that the Lord can enable me to get through this week? How is it that we can read Scripture, with its incredible portrayal of God in all his majesty and glory, and still end up believing only what our eyes will show us? How is it that we can allow our moods and the number of hours we've had for sleep so easily determine the earnestness and persistence of our prayers? When will the scales fall from our eyes? Lord, help us see.

While I completely understand and accept that much of life is ordinary, a shopping list of duties and responsibilities, of chores and errands, must it be the case that our faith is confined by the same boundaries? I know that since much of life is this way, our faith has to make sense of and be relevant to the everydayness of our routines and schedules; but where is the sense of mystery, of transcendence, of our faith, while addressing the ordinary, being about less--or rather more--than the ordinary? Shouldn't there be a levity to faith to match the gravity of life?

I do have those moments when, for some reason, all of life's problems, while still very much there, no longer have the weight I normally assign them. I can't quite describe it, but it's as though the reality of God--though very much unseen--seems more real and powerful than the reality of everything else that I can see. And it's not a forget-your-problems-happy-escapist-sort-of-feeling. Seems to me it's a gift. I can't summon it. I can't worship myself into it. I can't pray myself to it. This makes it even more odd because knowing that I did not and cannot manufacture such a perspective means that faith itself is a gift. I can't force my faith; but I can ask for it to grow.

Now when I get to the office there will be the temptation, a temptation that forever is there, to rush ahead and dash into work. I'll want to make the phone calls I have to make. Plan. Wrack my brain for sermon ideas. Think over music for Sunday's worship. Such an attitude is, in some ways, endemic to our culture. And it's not necessarily unhealthy as far as it goes. But in ministry it can be a problem insofar as it makes it about what I do. And there is a sense in which the less I do the better. To think otherwise, that all of this pastoral work is the fruit of my labours, the result of my gifts and talents, and that if I can't pull it together out of thin air, then there is something wrong with me and I should look into another vocation or career or job, is to neglect the very reality at the heart of ministry, the reason and rationale for ministry in the first place: the reality of God. But that takes faith. And that's something only God can provide. So I have to ask for it. In other words, ministry should, though it doesn't always, begin and end and be immersed in prayer. In neglecting prayer, I allow my ministry, such as it is, to make that downward slide toward the ordinary, where mystery has been replaced by methods, transcendence by technique, and faith by sight. Only a prayerful life informed by the revelation of Scripture can find itself sure that in the midst of doctor's appointments, burnt suppers, coughs and runny noses, late night risings to calm an upset child, and feeble efforts at sermon preparation that the God who called the simplest and grandest elements of creation into being can also grant me life and faith. Only God can help me see and live in the ordinary with a faith that is more than the ordinary. That's something extraordinary.

Expectations vs. Reality

Sometimes it seems as though nothing goes according to plan. For instance, after three weeks of having to postpone our daughter's homeschooling (vacation, illness, etc.), my wife was supposed to start it up again this morning. But they're both still asleep after what was a long, not very restful night. Once our little girl came into our bed sometime in the middle of the night, she woke up several times upset and crying, either at still having a cold and feeling stuffed up or because of nightmares. Either way, it means that the plan for today was de-railed even before the sun came up.

Even I didn't get up until around 9am. I went to bed around half-past midnight, but didn't actually fall asleep until after 2am. My mind was wound up, I guess. I was thinking about church stuff. And I was worried that my wife was still up and awake even though she had preschool with our daughter in the morning. Now thankfully, since it's just the two of them, schedules are pretty flexible. And though I slept in, Monday is normally my day off anyway.

Last night while lying in bed, I happened to say to my wife something along the lines that I wish things could go completely right and as planned even for just a few days. And she, though still struggling with depression, was able to say that our life was still pretty good. She's largely right about that. It seems quite a lot has to do with our perspective on things. I find that I'm becoming more self-conscious about my own moods and attitudes, and that a lot of the problem when I see things going astray or just plain wrong is me.

It's all about the difference between expectations and reality. How do I expect our life as a family to be? Or more simply, what do I expect to accomplish this morning? Or what do I expect of my wife this afternoon? And which of these expectations are actually realistic? Do I sometimes have unrealistic expectations for us? I'm guessing yes. Sometimes these expectations are pretty conscious--I know I have them and find myself frustrated when they aren't met. But sometimes expectations can be unconscious. I get frustrated but don't know why. I find myself in a sour mood but can't pinpoint the reason. I get irritated at my wife but am unable locate the source of the irritation. Or even if I think I have, it may turn out to be more than what I thought. So there are conscious and unconscious expectations that may or may not match up with reality.

But there's another kind of expectation that can cause even more difficulty: unspoken expectations. This is when I expect my wife to read my mind and understand what I want from her even if I haven't verbally communicated it. There's a certain self-righteousness that rears its ugly head here. "She should know that I would want this," I think. And then I blame her for lacking psychic abilities. We can all deliberately remain non-communicative about these expectations because we truly do believe that our spouse's ability to understand how we feel without our having to spell it out is part of the point. The hiccup in thinking this way, of course, is that we would never reverse the logic. I know I can't psychically intuit what's going on in my wife's head. Heck, even when she spells it out sometimes I still don't get it! Expectations need to be spoken, at least if you want the other person to know what they are.

Such expectations apply to relationships, and they apply to plans and life in general. I expect things to go this way or that way. Then they don't. I expect my wife to do this or that. And she doesn't. I expect to get this or that accomplished. And then I don't. Life doesn't always go as planned. And sometimes that's because we have unspoken expectations and sometimes it's because of unrealistic expectations. I guess that means I have to do a better job either of communicating my expectations or of measuring them and setting them in such a way that they come closer to reality and take what might happen and what might not happen into account. And that's one thing life is teaching me--through marriage, parenting, and ministry: be realistic.

A Week in Ministry . . .

I can hardly believe it, but by 1pm today my sermon was actually finished. It was nearly 1pm precisely when I completed a practice run in the sanctuary sans congregation (I almost always try to practice preaching my sermon before Sunday). This is very unusual, because normally I'm working on my sermons until sometime late on Saturday afternoon or even late Saturday evening. What makes this especially odd is that I told my wife that I was pretty sure that I would be done at that time. And then I finish, look down at my watch, and voila, I am done! More than unusual, it's also special, because that means I have a Saturday to use at my and my family's disposal (that is, barring any sort of unanticipated congregational emergency or unexpected natural disaster). I'm very much looking forward to tomorrow, especially now that it's a day off.

And overall this has been an encouraging week in ministry. We had a great business meeting on Monday evening where I discovered that one of my deacons had been having very similar thoughts on our worship service that I had been having. Looks like there will be some challenging and exciting changes up ahead. People at the meeting were wonderfully receptive, largely because of the recognition that any church needs to grow and change if it is going to be relevant to an increasingly un-churched yet still needy community.

On Tuesday evening we had our Valentine's Day supper. We planned for a maximum of 50 and had around 40+ attend, including some folks from the community who don't go to our church or haven't in years. The food was terrific, and the fellowship, I think, was even better. So often at these suppers people eat and run, but people that night stayed and chatted. We started at 6:30 and there were still plenty of peopl around more than an hour later. I can only pray that the Lord will use that occasion to encourage some to consider coming on Sunday morning.

And on Wednesday I wrote a song. That was a complete gift from God. I hadn't done this in some time and on this particular day hadn't planned on it either. I just started noodling around. It began with a few words and a chorus, and a few hours later I ended up with a song that I will sing in church on Sunday. It sort of fits the theme of the message. I'm going to try and teach it to the congregation--which is to say, I will invite them to sing along. It is a worship song, and such music usually sounds better with more than one voice.

Tonight is youth group. Unfortunately, this is one of the ministries that is really struggling in our church. No thanks to me, it suffers from a lack of attention and time. But I do find that with everything else on my plate, it is very difficult to plan a great deal. I really want our kids to grow in their faith, but it's hard, too, when half the group are siblings. I can't imagine that that is easy for them. We need more kids involved, and we need one or two people who can really take a youth ministry on. I was told by a pastor friend when we started youth group a year and a half ago: "You can't do it." By this he meant, you can't do it. You need someone else to do it, to be passionate about it, to have the time and energy to put into it. I'm beginning to see his point.

That's church life, I suppose. Areas of strength are matched by areas of weakness (or areas in need of development). But I am grateful that I am beginning to see encouraging signs. And I am grateful that there are others who see the need for the same changes. And I am grateful, right now, that I have tomorrow off before another week of ministry begins.