Pastoring the Pastors Part 2

A friend of mine recently told me about his honeymoon in Switzerland. While he and his wife were walking along a mountain path, he heard a young girl scream. There, on the other side of the railing that lined the path, was a girl, about nine or ten, hanging for her life off the side of the mountain.

My friend,  being a pastor,  first asked himself four questions.

First, did she deserve to be here? Obviously, she had been disobedient to her parents, so she was there of her own accord. We cannot expect someone to come to our rescue every time we disobey.  After all, our actions can have serious consequences.

Second,  was this girl capable of saving herself?  As a rule,  ten year old girls are wiry, energetic and fairly flexible. Chances are if he did nothing she would be all right. She might be worried now, but she would find some way of climbing up.  After all, we should not do for others what they can do for themselves.

Third,  was this be best use of his time?  After all, it was their honeymoon. Switzerland is a largely pagan place these days.  He could see stopping to tell someone about Christ--after all, that would be a matter of their eternal salvation. But just to rescue a girl he did not know who  God may have already predestined to destruction--he was not sure.

Fourth,  would it not be better to pray for her?  He was not sure of his ability to save her, since he himself was not that strong, and leaning over the rail would be dangerous.  Prayer however, is always appropriate, since God can save her, and even if she were destined to die, her eternal safety would be secure.

My friend  asked nothing like any of these of course. He and his wife pulled her to safety.

I mention this to illustrate what we so often do when we come across someone in crisis.  We first want to access blame. Second, we access their abilities according to our judgment, not theirs. Third,  we assume our time is more important than theirs. Fourth, we apply the pious cop-out of generous prayer, rather than putting our prayer into action.

Two days ago, I published a blog about pastoring pastors. It occurred to me later than if I did not follow up on what I wrote, I would be guilty of doing the same thing. 

We can't just say that pastors and their families, especially pastors undergoing difficulty,  need pastoring, we need to actually do it. 

So here are some practical suggestions that I think we should consider.

1. Establish a denominational office that would work like a Human Resources department of a company.  They would be responsible for circulating and maintaining data forms,  educating pastors as to their benefits in retirement and insurance,  helping to counsel pastors through life transitions, and generally be a resource person for the personal needs of pastors and their families.  This person would have no authority, only the responsibility of smoothing the way for pastors and their families to manage the crises of their lives. This person should be knowlegable not only of resources available for pastors, but (in a denomination as small as ours, at least) of the pastors themselves, and how our system works.
2. Encourage every presbytery to have a pastor of pastors. Ideally this would be an older pastor, retired or semi-retired, with the time to go visit each pastor in their church and in their home. They would receive expenses and (if possible) a small stipend for this. They would not have any authority in the church structure to hire or fire, but would be there in the same capacity as a pastor has in a church.
3. Establish a system of mentors and coaches for pastors, similar to what we have for mission developers today.  Coaches would function to show young pastors around the system, and to offer advice and counsel. Mentors would function as spiritual directors,  giving them a confidant and accountability partner. This doesn't have to be a pastor. It should definitely not be a member of his own church, but it should be someone who does not mind asking hard questions such as "how's your prayer life?" or "How are you doing with your wife?" or "What are your  biggest personal struggles?"
4. Have a system of retreat houses for pastors and their families, where they can go for spiritual and personal retreat.  Preferably this could be done on a presbytery level.  I know that Bonclarken often opens up their facilities for this, but I do not think that most pastors know or remember this at a time of crisis. Many times, a pastor may not want to go to a place where he is liable to run into people he knows.  Perhaps people who own time-shares or vacation homes could be persuaded to open up these for a week for a pastor's family in exchange for  tax deduction from the presbytery or synod.
5. Organize small groups across the denomination so pastors can fellowship with other pastors and encourage one another in spiritual disciplines. Having people to meet with weekly face to face is ideal. If this is not possible, modern technology gives us many other options,  phone conferencing, instant messaging, video conferencing, and Skype,  just to name a few.
6. Connect pastors with larger networks for pastors in mutual support.  There are numerous prayer meetings, such as prayer summits which bring pastors and laypersons together across denominational lines. 
7. Have groups of laypersons from a large number of persons who can assist displaced pastors and their families, as well as pastors. If you want to kill an idea, give it to a busy pastor! But if you want a job done right, give it to a layperson who has a passion for it.  Surely there are people around out presbyteries who can come alongside pastors who have lost churches and help them find jobs,  shelter, personal, and financial support.

Anyway, these are a few possibilities that are out there. 

If we want to help the church, help the pastors.  They will do a better job for us, if they know that they are being covered by support, not just in prayer, but in practical living as well.

There are pastors and their wives today who are hanging by their fingers.  We have a responsibility to hear their cries. 

Pastoring the Pastors, Part 1

I once heard John Maxwell tell about his minister father who served as a pastor from the 1920's to the 1950's. After retirement  he made a list of names of his fellow graduates from  seminary in the '20's and what happened to them later.  Out of the twenty men who  started with him, only two retired as pastors.  The majority dropped out of ministry in  the first five years. 

Sad, when you think about it. The ministry is a career with a very high casualty rate being tough on pastors and families alike. There is a reason we call the ministry "spiritual warfare."

Recently, I did something similar to what Maxwell's father had done.  I made a list of twenty names of ministers I have known in my thirty-two years  of ministry, who had served for at least five years, and what has happened to them.   I admit it was not a scientific list.  I just put down the twenty ministers in my church that I had known the best.  But I think it is a fair cross-section.   Here's what has happened to those twenty

--Six of them are currently out of the ministry.  As far as I can remember, none of them left voluntarily. They left because of strife within  their church, their family, or both. 

--Seven of them transferred out of our denomination.  Not one of those six would ever think of returning.   Ever.  In most of those cases family strife, internal strife, or denomination strife caused the change.

--The other eight are still are serving  within the denomination or have already retired.

After looking at the list,  It seems that more people are burned in the ministry than are blessed by it. According to one survey,  seventy percent of pastors reported that the ministry had had a detrimental effect on their families.   The pressures of the ministry are devastating and  long term. 

--Here are some statistics that appeared in Alan Fading's blog

--Eighty percent of seminary graduates do not stay longer than five years.

--Fifteen percent of foreign missionaries return home after a single year due to burnout and depression. Thirty-two percent of planted churches die within four years.

--The ministry is one of the highest professions for clinical depression.

I admit this may be a subjective judgment, but I cannot help but think that our little denomination is particularly unfavorable for ministerial retention and satisfaction. I have met many former ARP pastors, but I have never met one who wanted to come back in.  The main reason they cite for this is a lack of support.  There is a general impression among those who have left that they were abandoned.  I  remember a comment that one former colleague said to me after I had left a church--"What friend got you?"

I take remarks for what they are worth.  It is natural for those who have been hurt to make comments which are really just sour grapes. Many of those I have met,  even while saying the church abandoned them, will name individuals in the church who helped them.  Yet the complaint seems so universal that we must take it seriously.  If only one  of these hurting pastors is right, then that is one too many. 

When a pastor becomes ordained, he is no longer a member of any church, but is now a member of presbytery. Presbytery is now responsible for his spiritual well-being as well as his spiritual discipline.  A pastor's spouse may join a church, as may his children,  yet everyone knows that if the pastor leaves, or is asked to leave, the family goes with him.  The spiritual care of the pastor's family therefore depends upon what presbytery decides to do with the pastor. If the presbytery removes a pastor from his church,  they are also de facto removing his wife and children from the church as well.  At that point, the entire family is left without the spiritual support of a Christian church.   Yet at this time, when the pastor and his family needs help, who stands with him?  There will be an expression of concern from the Minister and His Work committee,  a few calls of assurance from others that they will be there for them if they think of anything to ask, and if they are not too busy.   There will be an offer to have lunch sometime, and lots of people wiling to pray for them, since prayer is cheap and never takes much time, but that's about it. 

Pastoral care of pastors is a hit-or-miss proposition.  If they have close friends in powerful places, they may receive tremendous support. If they do not, they can be all but ignored. 

Let me ask a few more practical questions.  Why do we not have a structure in place to help pastors?  Why do we not have a structure for helping pastors transition into other careers?  Why do we not assign particular churches to look out for displaced pastors and their families?  Why do we not have regular debriefings of pastors who are forced to leave churches, to see how we may help them, and more importantly to see what we can learn from them?  Why do we not have support groups for pastors and their families?  Why do we not have a system of regular pastoral visits of pastors and their families?  Why do we not work with pastors in helping them establish and maintain their spiritual disciplines?  Why do we not have anyone on a presbytery or synod level who is responsible for the pastoral care of pastors?   Why do we continue to solve our pastoral problems by asking the pastor to leave, even when we know it is not the pastor's fault,  when we know that the problem is with the church, but it is easier to replace the pastor than fix the church?

The reason is obvious. Pastors are expendable.  There is always a line of naïve young men lining up to move into even the most difficult situation,  ready to be chewed up and spit out, like their brothers before them.

When I have brought these things up in the past, I have been accused of wanting to have bishops in the church, who would exert power above. That's our problem--we only see the relationship between pastor and presbytery as a power relationship.  Having a person responsible for being supportive and friendly seems beyond our grasp. 

In John 17,  Jesus prays in His high priestly prayer that the Father would make us one with one another as we are one with Him.  In John 13 he tells us that loving one another is the mark of being a disciple.  So--where is the oneness?  Oneness is not something we work to have. It is there already.  We are mutually accountable to each other, whether or not we even know each other.  If one of us is injured we all suffer.

Sometimes, our little denomination reminds me of a partially dead tree.  Here and there we see new, green life, and we rejoice for it. But we also see dead branches, cut off from the rest, rotting and termite riddled,  where the life never touches.  The whole tree suffers because of it.    

It comes down to this--we ministers need to see ourselves as members of each other's families.  When one brother stumbles, other brothers need to help him,  both officially and unofficially.  We do not have to know them well to recognize the organic connection that exists between other members of Christ's Body--in particular members of our own Presbytery. That is the unity we want in our churches. It ought to what we crave between pastors as well. 

Called not to preach

More than forty years ago, I was called to preach.  Now, for the first time, I have been called not to preach. 

I hope it isn't permanent.  I  still want to get back into the pulpit of some church somewhere as soon as possible.  I like preaching--anyone who has done it for long would say the same thing.  I teach preaching now, as well as other pastoral studies but teaching and preaching are not the same thing.  I want to do it. 

However,  the opportunities for me to preach are just not there at the moment.  I have to conclude for now that God has other plans for me. 

I ask God why.  Can't I be useful? Haven't I been effective?  Don't I have something to say?  Have I gotten so old that you can't use me? 

I'm not alone in this thinking.  I have several friends who are temporarily or permanently out of pulpits who ask the same thing. They would fall all over themselves for a chance to stand in front a a congregation, any congregation and proclaim God's word.  In truth, preaching is a kind of addiction--once you fall in love with doing it, you want your weekly fix. 

I'm that way, I know.  But God has not called me to preach now. He has called me not to preach, but to teach my classes through the week and go listen to someone else on Sunday.

Now I'm about two months out of the pulpit,  and I'm beginning to understand a little of what God is doing.

When a preacher has been preaching for a while, a scary things starts to happen to him.  He starts to split in two.  There's a public "me"--Reverend "me"--and plain old ordinary me--mini "me."  Rev "me" is kind, wise and steady,  mini "me" is anxious,  stubborn and unsteady, just like everyone else.  Rev. "me" carries himself tall, straight, and dignified.  Mini "me" slouches on the couch with a coke in his hand,  watching TV, or yells at other drivers in traffic jams, or throw his racket down in disgust when someone beats him at racketball.  Rev. "me" rejoices at the good fortune of his colleagues.  Mini "me" fumes because that pulpit committee didn't even bother to send a return letter for that resume you sent.  Rev. "me" sympathizes with the plight of those less fortunate; mini "me" giggles over the youtube video of that dog running into a wall.  

You get the idea. 

Sometimes God has to slay Rev. "me" to get to mini "me."  The only way I can be real or honest is to take off the robe and the mask, and sit in the pew for a while like every other sinner.

On the whole, I guess I like Rev. "me."  But there's a few things about him that I don't like.  For one thing, Rev. "me" is a profound know-it-all.  He's got an answer for everything.  He knows how to approach God, and how God wants to be approached.  He's got his theology all worked out.  This is easy to do, of course, when he's never out of his own pulpit.  He never sees how other people do things except when he's on vacations, and he never much leaves his comfort zone.  But when Rev. "me" becomes mini "me"  he's in a whole new world. People worship in different ways, have new ideas,  have different burning interests. Some things he expected to be true are true. Other things are not quite as expected.  The world of worship is larger and more varied than we think it is, and we soon find out that there is life outside the narrow confines of our traditions. 

So the past few weeks have been a good learning experience for Joy and I. We haven't yet settled on a place to worship regularly, but we have had some good experiences and met some fine people.  Nevertheless, I pray regularly for God to call me to preach again.

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