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.