One of the appendices in Being Leaders is a personal core values audit. It’s actually the same audit he gives for churches to use in both books. So I took it, and here’s what I discovered about myself, in the order of priority that I established for them:

1. Worship and Prayer
2. Bible Knowledge
3. Evangelism/Lost People/Missions
4. Community/Relevance
5. Mobilized Laity

The order is significant, as I perceive this is a process that someone would walk through. First, people should worship God and engage Him in prayer. This would be naturally followed by a desire to know Him more, which would happen through Bible study. While I don’t think Bible knowledge is necessarily a prerequisite for evangelism, I believe we become better evangelists the more we know about God, which is why I have it third. As we pursue evangelism, we will likely realize that we need to understand the people we are trying to reach: the people of our community (either where we were born or where we have chosen to live for work, family, or ministry). We will need to understand the community and make our message relevant, that is in the vernacular of the community so that the message can be heard and understood.  And I firmly believe that this is a task of everyone in the church, not just the lead pastor, the staff, or the church leaders (be they deacons, elders, Sunday school teachers, or some other unnamed group).

All of which can make it pretty awkward to be a pastor. Can you imagine the person I just described in the last paragraph when he enters a new church as a new minister for the very first time? Let’s just say it’s very energy-draining when I have to force myself to reach out and engage people, especially a lot of people or over an extended period of time (say once a week, every week).

I’ve excused myself from the typical role of the pastor as care giver, the pastor as the one who visits the sick in the hospital room, the pastor who leads the way in evangelism. I’ve excused myself by relying on the passage in Acts where the Jerusalem church leaders divide the work of the ministry among the deacons who minister to the poor and widows and the elders who focus on the ministry of the word. I’ve just understood my role as that of an elder rather than what was called in that passage a deacon.

So today I’m reading through the latest issue of Outreach Magazine, and I come to an article by Ed Stetzer called “Questions for McChurch.” The article is about the problems he sees with the multi-site movement among churches. (Actually, it’s rather interesting – the article leaves the impression that he’s in favor of the multi-site movement, but his contract with Outreach requires him to take the “contratrian” [his word] position, so he has to find things to be negative about the movement.) His first criticism on the multi-site movement among churches is about the pastoral role, and how the multi-site church really limits the amount of ministering the senior pastor can do in the traditional pastoral care roles such as praying over the sick, watching over the flock, and breaking bread with one another. And he goes on to say that, in the multi-site church, the senior pastor is rarely the primary care pastor.

That phrase struck me. Maybe it’s because doctors and medical care have suddenly taken on an explosive new role in the lives of my spouse and me because of the new bundle of joy we’ll be holding in a just a few more weeks, but I had never thought of the pastor in such terms. When all of those forms ask about a primary care physician, I had never thought of the idea of a primary care pastor. Who is that? Should it be the senior pastor always? Is it appropriate to have a pastor of pastoral care who handles all of that while another teaching pastor takes on the role of the sermons (like my ideal church setting would have it)? Were is the place for pastoral care in the role of senior pastor (or whatever you call that)? If the day comes for me to be a senior pastor, whose primary care pastor will I be? Do I need to be a primary care pastor for a set of people even now in my associate role?

Lots of questions. Few answers.

The two of us just sat numbed, in shock. It can’t be good when such stories have become routine, when the images of people fleeing for their lives is as normal in real life as it is inside the suspended disbelief of a movie theater. What is it that has happened in the last ten or fifteen years that has brought us to the point of wondering whether colleges could ever be safe, whether a trip to a mall for a day out could ever be relaxing again, whether any public place is really safe again. I know many places in the world deal with this, and have dealt with this for long years. But it’s new here, to me.

I wonder what we can do for my generation and the one after (those born post 1975) to curb the pain, the frustration, the loss of grounding that is spinning us out of control. It’s not for want of the knowledge of the message those of us who follow Christ know we need to share. There’s something else missing. Whether it is what we are saying, how we are saying it, or some other thing, I don’t know. Publishing houses make money off of those arguing to figure it out. But something has to change. Our ministry as a church must change and meet the needs of those who are hurting and broken. We aren’t doing it now.

When I interviewed for the position, I was told that part of my duties under the worship half of my job description would be to transition the church from organ-led traditional worship to a blended style of worship that includes organ/traditional music and other instrument/contemporary worship. (Caveat: I don’t think that an organ necessitates traditional or can’t be contemporary, but it certainly is not done in my current context, and I can’t exactly imagine “Blessed Be Your Name” from an organ.) I had made significant headway in that area at the previous congregation I served, so I was not intimidated by such a task. Taking a cue from an adjunct professor from seminary, I declared my intention to not introduce change until I had observed the church for a year.

The year was up last August, and, on cue, I began introducing new songs. At a board meeting in December, the discussion about the pace of change came up, and the general consensus was that things were not happening fast enough. The impression was that the congregation wanted more, more, more. So I revved things up quite a bit and started introducing more new music.

So this month, at another board meeting, the general consensus was that I am going to fast. Too much new. Too quickly. And I just find that ironic.

Generally, I like to introduce a song and sing it three weeks in a row, and then continue for a few additional weeks with familiar songs before introducing the next new song. I thought that is what I was doing. And I said so at the board meeting. I wanted further instruction on where the middle road was between the “not enough” of December and the “too much” of February. This morning I went back through all of the orders of service since August and reviewed what we have sung when, and how often. Turns out I haven’t been doing such a good job with my intended approach for introducing new songs. That’s what I get for being high and mighty and thinking that I know best automatically.

Nothing like a kick in the pants to get you back to where you need to be. Or should I say, get me back to where I need to be?

Fortunately, the church really does want the change. I’m thankful for a community that is willing to walk along the path together, and even follow someone who stumbles along, such as me.

Thanksgiving, Christmas, and our annual church business meeting have all come and gone and my ministry seems to have been largely unaffected by those events back in November. I consider myself very blessed to be in the community of faith in which I minister. The people proved to be very understanding. Large numbers of the congregation came up to me to encourage me by their own tales of having to face professional councils or exams multiple times to be certified for their careers. It was a relief.

We may have another go at the ordination thing come late spring. We’ll see…other things may get in the way of that. Initially, I piled up large stacks of books from my library to help me rework my ordination paper and retool my arguments. But they have mostly gathered dust. Orders of service, choir selections, Sunday school classes, and the many other details of ministry have come to the forefront, as it should be.

In the end, I am pretty sure that I just pushed too quickly. I brought up the idea for the ordination council, even though I have long believed that ordination is a function of the church, not the minister. Therefore, it should be the church that presses the issue, not me. And there are many other things that I pushed through that I probably would not do the same way, and would have regretted had the ordination gone through. God is gracious, even in the muck and mire of misery. Family, friends, and congregation members all hold me and my wife up in their prayers, and the effects are noticeable. I am not nearly as bitter as I thought I would be, and that is a blessing all to itself.

I hope to get back to writing more. Thanks for your prayers, whoever reads this.

About an hour into it, I had a pretty strong sense of how it was going to go. After the council deliberated in their executive session, they called me back in for the verdict:

• They sensed clearly my call to ministry
• They sensed clearly that I am gifted for ministry
• They sensed clearly that I exhibit godliness

But

• They were concerned that I did not defend my doctrinal statements from Scripture

Therefore

• The council recommended that I not be ordained at this time.

So question:

• Joe Churchmember has essentially just been told that I am not currently fit for ministry. How do I minister to him and his family? How to I continue to pick out the order of service and seek to construct the education ministry of the church when a council of like-minded pastors thinks I am doctrinally undeveloped and/or immature for ministry?

It is all fresh – the council only ended about three hours ago, so I am sure I talk out of deep-seated emotions that a more rational and calm state of mind will soothe. But I am concerned for my ability to be an effective minister in this church. We’ll have to see how the church responds in the coming days.

Take bibliology, for example. Bibliology is the branch of theology that deals with scripture. I minister at an independent Baptist church, one that is conservative in theology. Part of that theology takes a standard line in conservative, fundamentalist evangelical lingo: the Word of God/Scripture/Bible is inerrant in the original manuscripts.

Now, I can’t tell you the history of the belief in inerrancy. I’m sure I studied it at some point, and I’m positive that one of my dictionaries, systematic theologies, or tomes on Scripture can inform me if I so desire. But I do understand why inerrancy is such a big deal to so many people. Inerrancy gives a foundation for faith. It says that, as much as the Bible we have matches what was originally written whenever the first manuscript of Zephaniah was composed, it is God’s Word with no mixture of error of any kind, and we can then say that (insofar as it matches the original) it speaks utter and complete Truth – on matter as varied as faith, science, philosophy, and psychology, to name a few. The original manuscripts, then, become the base foundation for anything and everything someone believes. And if you take away inerrancy, then it jeopardizes the entire faith system that was built on that foundation.

Inerrancy is a big faith issue in the circles in which I minister.

And I have a problem in that I don’t believe in inerrancy; at least not the kind of inerrancy that I was taught in college and seminary. I don’t believe that basing our faith on a set of non-existent documents (those original autographs inerrantists love to tout) is a God-honoring placement of our faith.

I choose instead to put my faith in God. I choose to believe that God has used the process by which we have received the Scriptures that we use today in order to identify, communicate, and preserve His word. Rather than basing my faith on saying that God whispered in David’s ear the words to Psalm 23, I would argue that God chose Psalm 23 to communicate something about Himself, whatever the process that was used to place Psalm 23 in the Bible that I use on a regular basis. It may be that God whispered in David’s ear. Or that David sat in a zombie state while the Spirit moved His hand to write out the Hebrew letters of Psalm 23. Or that God used a group of temple priests to examine some of the writings of the illustrious King David and revealed to them the great value of a particular song of David’s that eventually got placed as the 23rd song in a collection of hymns useful for Israelite worship.

The point isn’t HOW God chose the psalm, but rather THAT God chose the psalm of David that begins, “The LORD is my shepherd.” God chose it and uses it to communicate to His people something about Himself, or to comfort them, or to bring them peace, or to lead them to salvation. It’s not in the how. It’s in the that.

Ever since then, that has been my path. Well, I will say that I am pretty sure I was already on that path before he said that, but he certainly did nothing to dissuade me from putting that “Dr.” in front of my name. I idolized my college professors. Not necessarily any one of them particularly, but the group of them who were in the building that taught in my Biblical Studies major. They worked hard to stay abreast of their respective academic interests, they cared deeply for their students, and they spent their Sundays as church deacons, interim pastors, Sunday school teachers, or on church staff part-time at little and not-so-little churches around our county and beyond.

And I wanted to do all of that, too.

Seminary was a disappointment for me. Mostly because my undergraduate professors did such a good job of imparting the kind of education one goes to seminary to gain. I could have gone to a school that offered advanced standing for those with biblical studies undergraduate degrees. I could have gone to one that offered a wide variety of electives and specialties. But I didn’t. I went to a small school with two tracks: the track designed for a pastor, and the track that took the pastor track and removed the preaching and language components.

So I was bitter and frustrated most of the way through seminary. It didn’t really dawn on me until I was in a Greek exegesis course in seminary (after 18 hours of Greek as an undergrad – there wasn’t much new here for me), and I discovered how much I truly dislike Greek exegesis. I understood the need for it. I understood WHAT to do and even HOW to do it. I just did not understand why I should do it.

It’s only taken another four years for me to realize that the same goes for a Ph.D. I understand the need for it. I understand what and how. I even understand why – at least for other people. It’s just not for me. And I have finally been able to let go of striving for it. It’s wonderful to be free of the burden of the next degree, the next step toward finally achieving what I was “destined” to achieve.

I am no longer my own, but yours.
Put me to what you will, rank me with whom you will;
Put me to doing, put me to suffering;
Let me be employed for you or laid aside by you,
Exalted for you or brought low for you;
Let me be full, let me be empty;
Let me have all things, let me have nothing;
I freely and wholeheartedly yield all things to your pleasure and disposal.

And now, glorious and blessed God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
You are mine and I am Yours.
So be it.

And the Covenant now made on earth, let it be ratified in heaven.

- A prayer of the Methodist Church

Amazing Grace, How sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now I’m found. Was blind but now I see.

Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved
How precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed

Though many dangers toils and snares, I have already come
Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home

The Lord has promised good to me, His word my hope secures;
He will my shield and portion be as long as life endures

It is one of our favorite hymns. A song that probably everyone knows. It brings comfort and soothing. It calms our hearts, restores our soul. It is full of the mystery of God working in our lives to restore broken creatures to himself.

God actively extends grace to us. That is fundamental to Christian faith. All of the hope that Christianity offers (whatever our differences may be regarding what that hope actually is in) relies on God’s extension of grace to us. Apart from that, we are lost, unforgiven, dead, without hope whatsoever.

So in a faith that places so much reliance on grace, how do we go about practicing that grace ourselves? How do we extend God’s grace, forgiveness, and restoration to a lost and dying world around us? When is that grace extended? Is it in this life or only in the next?

Sanctification is an ongoing work, according to the theology that I have grown up in. So even the saved are not yet perfect in this life. We seek to perfection. We still lie, cheat, steal, lust, and murder – in our hearts if not in fact, something that our Lord equates with the actual act. So as imperfect strivers to perfection, ever in need of God’s grace, what does grace look like in our lives?

Jesus went to dinners with “sinners” and “rabble rousers” and “drunkards.” Why do some seek to require pastors to always remain above even the possible image of reproach? Can pastors not work with the least of our society?

Why are some sins considered unforgivable? For example, in my tradition, it has been common to forbid those who have been divorced from ever serving in a leadership position in the church? Why? Is there no hope of forgiveness and restoration in this life? Certainly there are consequences to sinful action, but is one of those consequences a loss of any kind of place in ministry?

Every culture has their untouchables. Those undesirables who are looked upon with utter disgust. Perhaps its the divorced. Or the homeless. Or the homosexual. Or the (former) convict. Or the drunkard. There are those people we would rather, like Jonah, see God never extend grace to. The Assyrians were a brutal people. They were ruthless in battle. They looked after their own and did not care who stood in their path – they were taking what they wanted. They did unspeakable acts in pursuit of their ends. Certainly they were not worthy of God’s grace, and Jonah knew this.

Who are the untouchables, the unforgivable in our reach? Who would we rather show the exit door than an empty seat in the sanctuary if they were to walk in? Is anyone beyond God’s grace? Is anyone beyond redemption and hope?

If anyone is, how dare any of us think that we are not?