To Be A Pastor

I've been reading Eugene Peterson,  which makes me wonder how I got so old without reading Peterson's books before.  His writing is wise, spiritual, literate, and very, very human. Pastors are the subject of most of his work, and he draws from a wealth of experience after decades in the pastorate. I highly recommend him

One thing that struck me this morning as I read one of his books was his description of his boyhood in Montana. He describes the people he met there in his town as being eccentric, delightful and real characters--with few exceptions.  One exception, he confesses, were the ministers he knew.  For the most part, they were phonies, mostly interested in hunting and fishing, who could not wait to get away from their  churches to hit the woods and streams.  It wasn't that they were bad men, just not spiritual men.  They wanted what everyone else did--comfortable,  uncomplicated careers followed by long, smooth retirements.  It never occurred to them that their true calling might be at odds with their comfort. 

I know those men.  In fact, I've been one of them.  That's the problem with those of us who claim to stand in for God--our words may be lofty, but our true thoughts go no higher than our stomachs and no wider than our investments.  It never occurs to us that we are supposed  sacrifice our lives for the sheep.   We keep thinking we are supposed to be rewarded for every little favor we give them.  We live as if our calling to word and sacrament were a commodity to be sold rather than a sacrificial gift. 

The spiritual world is far from us.  We get all tied up in problems and pleasures. The spiritual world is not our reality--it is a ghost which we sometimes glance out of the corner of our eye.  

We seek God, but we do not desire Him. We seek him the way a drunken beggar seeking a rich traveler on the street, to give us what we desire sow we can spend it upon our own version of happiness.  We pursue God for the sake of something else.

Lately, I feel as if I've returned to my pursuit of God.  My heart has not been empty, as the saints say, nor have I heard him as the Hound of Heaven, following my footsteps. He may have very well that He has been following, but I have not heard him.  My television, radio,  and cell phone drown out the footsteps of the Almighty in pursuit.  My heart has not been empty, either, since it has been too crowded with trivialities to notice.   I have been like those preachers Peterson knew in his boyhood--stately,  eloquent, and shallow. 

So I have returned to my pursuit of God, to see His face and know His ways. My pursuit is different than I was in my youth. I pursued Him then, thinking I was going to change the world or save the globe.  I imagined myself, as the disciples often did,  on some lofty throne,  doing great things for God's kingdom.   Now I seek Him  for the sheer beauty of it.  I'm not going to win the world for Jesus, but that doesn't matter.  Now, I pursue Him so I can see the world with Jesus.  The more I see him, the more I admire His handiwork,  both in nature and in His children. 

Being a pastor is I want to do, purely for the love of Him, and His sheep.  To be a pastor is to stand on the edge of wonder.  It is a privilege God has given to a few to walk towards Him with crooked staff in hand through green pastures , still waters, and valleys full of danger,  leading his sheep to Him, with them  sometimes bleating and complaining.  but with them all the way, then one by one, I follow him, close enough to see their eyes shine as they catch a glimpse of Glory.

Who are Holier--Ministers or Truck Drivers?

I wonder who is holier--ministers or truck drivers? 

I'd put my money on truck drivers.

I know, I know--ministers talk a lot about God  They teach others to be holy, spend long hours in the Bible, pray often  in public.  They even dress holy--especially those who wear their collars backwards. But all this is just external. Holiness is an internal quality.  The outside doesn't matter.  A man in a suit with a Bible in hand isn't made holy by his appearance any more than a child with a stethoscope is made a doctor.  So we can discount all that stuff as a sign.

We can discount ordination and a seminary education, too.  I read once of a man who  sent off to an online church and got his pig ordained. As far as seminary--anyone who thinks a seminary education makes a person holy should spend some time in a seminary.  Most of them will let anyone in who has the money and the grades.  Seminaries are businesses that give degrees to anyone who earns  it.  You can be a real jerk and get a seminary degree,  provided you're also a smart jerk with cash.

No,  I would think that holiness has something to do with one's time with God.  A holy person puts God first,  spends time with Him,  talks to Him, and listens to Him. 

Now, your average preacher in the course of a day, does not spend much time actually with God.   He is on his cell phone more often than he is on his knees.  He is  generally  talking, talking, talking --preaching, teaching, Bible studies, going on visits,  attending committee meetings and social events,  and so forth.  When he isn't talking, he's studying--but not to get closer to God. He studies so he has something to talk about. He is looking for illustrations, quotations, and insights that he can pass on to other people, so he can look smart and keep his job.

When  he is not talking, he is visiting, or as we like to say "out among the people."  Being "out among the people" is very important, because the people he is out among are watching him. They want make sure he is friendly, courteous,  and concerned.  Most of all, they want him to act like he knows what he is doing, so that when everything falls apart, there will be one man who  doesn't.   For that reason, the minister has to be concerned about how he acts, dresses, and behaves-- all  outward acts which have nothing to do with holiness. It's little wonder then that ministers, on their off hours, would  rather engage in pursuits that have nothing to do with thinking about God.

Enough about ministers though--let's look at truck drivers.  I mean Christians who happen to be truck drivers, of course.  They spend long hours on the road alone.  No one is watching them, except the highway patrol.  No one cares what they do in that chrome sanctuary of theirs.  The driver has miles and miles of uninterrupted quiet time.  He can listen to sermons, pray, or listen to the Bible on cd, all through the day. More than that,  while he is pounding down the miles, loaded up and trucking, he can be putting up the prayers,  meditating and praying,  as much as he wants. He can sing gospel songs at the top of his lungs, and no one hears.  He has huge blocks of time for real, serious prayer. 

When the truck driver stops at a truck stop, he is free to be himself. He can express his true feelings without anyone caring.  No one will gossip behind his back, so he can be bold in sharing his faith. He has to prove nothing.  He is putting up no front. Outside, he can be a fat guy with a T shirt and a cowboy hat, but inside he might be as saintly and scholarly as St. Augustine.  Freed from the pressures that plague so many ministers, he can give himself utterly and completely to the service and worship of God, at least, until he has to stop for fuel.

We ministers have often complained about not having time to really get close to God.   Maybe we should drive trucks instead.  We might not be thought of as holy, but we can actually be holy for a change.  Maybe truckers should try a hand at preaching from time to time.  A job exchange might be good for both. 

Next time you are looking for someone who can really pray and get close to God, maybe you should just look in you rear view mirror.