It’s a common subject of conversation I’ve had with countless people.
If you’re ever more than toe-deep in Church World, eventually the conversation will make its way to the pastor of whatever church.
Your pastor.
My pastor.
You-the-pastor.
He the pastor-wannabe.
And so it goes…
- I don’t like my pastor.
- I love my pastor.
- My pastor’s a jerk.
- I’m not getting fed by my pastor.
- My pastor just resigned.
- I wish my pastor would resign.
- We’re looking for a new pastor.
- We have a new pastor coming.
- My pastor can’t preach.
- My pastor isn’t very organized.
- My pastor left under a cloud of suspicion.
Hey, I get it. I’ve been on both ends of those conversations and have had all of that and more said about me, and often for good reason. People a lot smarter than I am have done quite a bit of research about members of the clergy, and they have made some startling discoveries. Care to guess what the most shocking of them all is? [click to continue…]
No.
Not if the focus is more on the office of the leader than on the needs of the led. Leaders tend to have places in authority that give them the power to move people around, get people to do (or not do) things, hire and fire people, and in other ways mess with people’s lives. Often those people (and the leaders) reverence the office more than the mission. In Church World, I’ve been in places where “pastor” was synonymous with “Your Majesty.” Where whims of the leader today become orders in stone tomorrow. Where elders become rubber stamp specialists and people in general act like they just drank the Kool Aid – at least when the Anointed One is around. And I don’t care who you are – that’s not healthy.
Not if there is a distinction between the interests of the leader and the good of the group. [click to continue…]
I can take you to the spot.
I can point to where I was standing.
The old, worn gold carpet is long gone, I’m sure. The house on Watson Road has likely been redecorated many times since we lived there.
But there’s no mistaking that spot where I made one of the most life-altering decisions of my life. And get this: I never told a soul about it. In fact, I never uttered a word. But in a silent transaction of the mind, will, and emotions, with three simple words I began a process of sowing to the wind… and reaping a whirlwind.
The words?
I.
Give.
Up. [click to continue…]
It’s a universal problem, I suppose. In more than 30 years of church work, one of the most common refrains I have heard (and generated, I’m sure) is, “I don’t like my pastor.”
I’ve heard it from every conceivable angle. Staff members who feel like they’re working for an isolated jerk. Church members who miss – or are tired of – the old guy. People who can’t stand the new guy. Heck, I’ve even met pastors who didn’t like themselves.
Little did I know there is a counseling hotline available for people to call for advice or to vent their frustrations. It’s called, appropriately enough, the “I Don’t Like My Pastor Hotline” – or “Idle Miff” for short.
Idle Miff is run by a guy named Big Al, who will only give his first name. His only other known credential: he was once a pastor himself. Rumor has it that Big Al has a gift for cutting to the issue… and cutting to the quick if he has to.
And for the first time ever, Big Al has agreed to an exclusive interview. Be amazed, friends.
Be amazed, too, that Big Al probably weighs about 130 pounds dripping wet.
It’s a busy day at Idle Miff, and Big Al, as always, is working the phones alone. Mondays are always his busiest day, he says, “for obvious reasons.” So we’ll just have to be OK to catch him between hotline calls.
Not a problem, says I. It’ll be fun to see him in operation. [click to continue…]
Aunt Ruth was neither my aunt, nor was she named “Ruth.” Through a set of circumstances I don’t have time to relate, “Aunt Ruth” was what I wound up calling her.
Aunt Ruth had eyes that danced long after her feet were unable to. She defied aging – said she didn’t have time or sense enough to grow old. She detested religiosity and people who took themselves too seriously. “Fuddy Duddy Christians,” she called them. Aunt Ruth was wise. Through her sometimes-sharp exterior, she loved me. And she taught me one of the most important lessons I ever learned.
“Life’s full of mysteries,” Aunt Ruth said. In fact, she said it a lot. Aunt Ruth loved mysteries. Not the murder-type, but those principles in life that defy logic. It always amused her to get me in an argumentative mode and throw out one of her “mysteries.”
Like the time I was angry because someone had been spreading lies about me. “I’m gonna find out who started it, and set them straight!” I informed her.
“Forget it,” Aunt Ruth said. “Get to the bottom of it, and all you get is some stirred up mud and a mad catfish.” [click to continue…]
I expected to learn some things and be reminded of some things when I made my first trip to Thailand. I was not disappointed. To put an exclamation point on our trip, here are some things I learned along the way…
You may think you know what humidity is, but you’re wrong.
My wife had one unending childhood adventure.
Churches everywhere are made up of humans, with human needs, human potential, and human flaws.
Pastors may not speak the same language, but the leadership issues they face are the same worldwide.
It’s amazing the trust you can gain with a sincere smile. [click to continue…]
Over the last two weeks, I have spent meaningful time with six different pastors who live 12 time zones away from me. Each is uniquely gifted, varied in experience and have completely different assignments. In the course of that time, I’ve seen and heard some things, learned some things, observed some things. Here’s a sampling:
- Each pastor has his own unique model or approach for ministry.
- Each is convinced his ministry model is the right one, at least for him.
- Each has questions or concerns, if not open criticism, about other models of ministry practiced by others.
- Nearly every one of them has been hurt pretty deeply by people in Church World.
Dear Daniel,
Thank you for taking the time to share your heart and concerns with me last week. I respect your honesty, and am frustrated that you have experienced so many disappointments and hurts in your church relationships. While I can relate to many of them, only you know how savagely this has impacted your life and the life of your family members.
I know it has to be a bit surreal to always feel as though, in your words, “you kept missing the memo” about what was expected beyond a simple faith in Christ. And to be caught in between two conflicting women “leaders” had to have felt like a no-win situation.
I still don’t understand what the whole turf war stuff was all about. But I do understand the tension between trying to show grace and love to someone in deliberate sin and yet not approving the lifestyle. I guess until Jesus comes, we’ll still be arguing about that one. [click to continue…]
News Flash! This just in… In a shocking reversal of public opinion, somebody thinks something’s wrong with the church.
Here’s a blast from the past from an old B.C. Cartoon. Picture the anthill, and the Dad ant poking his head out the top. His teenaged son is coming back from the movies.
Dad: “How was the disaster movie, son?”
Son: “A disaster.”
Son: “Why do they make so many disaster movies, Dad?”
Dad: “So when Armageddon comes, we can all go back to sleep and say we’ve seen it already.”
I can see a 2009 update:
Dad: “How was the disaster movie, son?”
Son: “A disaster.”
Son: “I thought we’d see a bunch of explosions, death and mayhem.”
Dad: “Let me guess – you saw the Ted Haggard documentary instead.”
Pick your spot – inside the church or outside. Mainline, sideline, or no-line. House churches and megachurches. Political and “news” organizations. Cultural elitists and preachers. Gay rights advocates and Fred Phelps. Everybody seems to converge on one common opinion:
The church sucks. [click to continue…]
(A Turning Point Story)
If being a pastor is like living in a fishbowl, then being a pastor in Abbeville was like swimming in a churning aquarium.
Beneath a florescent light.
That never goes out.
Now this is no mystery to the folks there; fact is, I think some of them are pretty proud of it. We’d laugh about it when we weren’t crying about it or stamping out the latest edition of “I heard from a reliable source.”
I knew this wouldn’t be a typical assignment when I went for an interview weekend and Bobby Joe Espy opened the Q & A session by asking, “Preacher, how thick is your hide?” I don’t remember what I said – something lame about leading with my heart. But I remember that this was the first time I’d ever had a chill in my chest.
Now every small town presumes to know everybody else’s business, but here it was elevated to an art form. Here people knew what you were doing and told you about it. After they told somebody else about it first, of course. They told me when my lights were on too late at night, or too early in the morning. They told me when the grass behind the, uh, privacy fence was too tall. And they told me every single time anybody had something to say that was of a critical nature. In Abbeville they called it like they saw it. And sometimes if they didn’t see it, they made it up.
Don’t guess my hide was very thick.
David Peterson was a great friend, which was helpful, since he chaired the committee that brought me and my very young family to the Wiregrass region of southeast Alabama. [click to continue…]
It’s a common subject of conversation I’ve had with countless people.
