They've got my number
Here's an account, as described to me, of an actual conversation between two pastors.
Pastor 1: Brother, I don't know what to do. Our attendance keeps going down, offerings are down, there's no excitement, I don't know what to do...
Pastor 2: I know what you mean, Brother. Same here. Hang on - Jesus is coming.
That's almost verbatim.
I'm not quite thirty years old. If all I have to look forward to in a lifetime of ministry is hanging on until Jesus comes, well...I've got other things to do.
With every fiber of my being, I do not - can not - believe that the sentiment expressed above indicates the attitude Jesus wants me to carry into my ministry, or my family, or my life.
And He's the one that's coming.
- - - -
I bring up the above account because I mentioned it as part of a message I preached Sunday night. It was a message I preached to a congregation in need of a pastor, in an area that needs to see the Gospel lived out in the worst way. The church has a building in a location central to reaching an area that isn't currently being reached, and it has people who, despite being few in number, want to keep the church going.
It's the kind of place I was pretty sure I was looking for. And it's way closer to the stomping grounds than I ever thought God might let me be.
So I'd mentioned that I was interested in being their pastor. And they seemed receptive, loved Kristy and the kids, had us back on three separate occasions. Doors seemed to be opening, and Kristy and I began to get excited about the possibilities.
So this past Sunday evening, I gave the message everything I had. I prayed, and God had given me a message appropriate for the moment the church found itself in. I had visual aids for the main thought of the message, and I allowed all my personality to come through. I hid nothing of myself, and I shared as much of my heart for what God has for me - and for them - as I could in the context of the message. The people laughed, they concentrated, they grooved with me for most of the message.
A man with no connection to the church at all walked in off the street. He was the first black man I'd seen there in the five different times I'd attended services there. He enjoyed the service immensely, and I prayed with him during the invitation.
I closed the service, and the people were very gracious in expressing their appreciation for the message.
After everyone else had left, the treasurer handed me an envelope and said, "We've got your number."
You've got my number? That wasn't going to cut it. Not after this long. So I asked if there was any movement in the search for a pastor.
No, none at all, he said.
Another man standing nearby, another member of the recently formed pulpit committee, overheard my question. He mentioned that they were considering asking an area pastor to serve as interim pastor of their church. The treasurer replied that they hadn't decided, including a look that indicated he'd just as soon that hadn't come up.
- - - -
So, it seems, we've reached another fork in the road. In discussing the possibilities of this church with my family and personal friends, I always said that a lot of things were in place, and a lot of doors seemed to be opening: but the one thing I didn't know was if the people were ready. As it turns out, the ones who needed to be ready, weren't. The one thing that might keep a seemingly great opportunity from working out, turns out to be the one thing that shuts it all down.
We loaded the kids in the van and drove away. "So...?" After the service, Kristy's voice was hopeful.
"Nope." I just let the word fall out of my mouth, too weary to put any emotion behind it. I'd just noticed that, in the process of preaching, I'd soaked my shirt with perspiration. I couldn't remember doing that before.
"I'm sorry," she said, putting her hand on my arm. As we drove away, we passed people I'd let myself dream of reaching, neighborhoods that were going to be impacted, the beautiful downtown and waterfront.
And we drove toward what God has for us. Right now, it looks a lot like what He's had for us the past six months (six months!). But I know that what He's got doesn't look like hanging on 'til Jesus comes. It looks more like taking the message of God's love and salvation, and building a community of Christ followers that makes an impact in their world.
That much I know.
Pastor 1: Brother, I don't know what to do. Our attendance keeps going down, offerings are down, there's no excitement, I don't know what to do...
Pastor 2: I know what you mean, Brother. Same here. Hang on - Jesus is coming.
That's almost verbatim.
I'm not quite thirty years old. If all I have to look forward to in a lifetime of ministry is hanging on until Jesus comes, well...I've got other things to do.
With every fiber of my being, I do not - can not - believe that the sentiment expressed above indicates the attitude Jesus wants me to carry into my ministry, or my family, or my life.
And He's the one that's coming.
- - - -
I bring up the above account because I mentioned it as part of a message I preached Sunday night. It was a message I preached to a congregation in need of a pastor, in an area that needs to see the Gospel lived out in the worst way. The church has a building in a location central to reaching an area that isn't currently being reached, and it has people who, despite being few in number, want to keep the church going.
It's the kind of place I was pretty sure I was looking for. And it's way closer to the stomping grounds than I ever thought God might let me be.
So I'd mentioned that I was interested in being their pastor. And they seemed receptive, loved Kristy and the kids, had us back on three separate occasions. Doors seemed to be opening, and Kristy and I began to get excited about the possibilities.
So this past Sunday evening, I gave the message everything I had. I prayed, and God had given me a message appropriate for the moment the church found itself in. I had visual aids for the main thought of the message, and I allowed all my personality to come through. I hid nothing of myself, and I shared as much of my heart for what God has for me - and for them - as I could in the context of the message. The people laughed, they concentrated, they grooved with me for most of the message.
A man with no connection to the church at all walked in off the street. He was the first black man I'd seen there in the five different times I'd attended services there. He enjoyed the service immensely, and I prayed with him during the invitation.
I closed the service, and the people were very gracious in expressing their appreciation for the message.
After everyone else had left, the treasurer handed me an envelope and said, "We've got your number."
You've got my number? That wasn't going to cut it. Not after this long. So I asked if there was any movement in the search for a pastor.
No, none at all, he said.
Another man standing nearby, another member of the recently formed pulpit committee, overheard my question. He mentioned that they were considering asking an area pastor to serve as interim pastor of their church. The treasurer replied that they hadn't decided, including a look that indicated he'd just as soon that hadn't come up.
- - - -
So, it seems, we've reached another fork in the road. In discussing the possibilities of this church with my family and personal friends, I always said that a lot of things were in place, and a lot of doors seemed to be opening: but the one thing I didn't know was if the people were ready. As it turns out, the ones who needed to be ready, weren't. The one thing that might keep a seemingly great opportunity from working out, turns out to be the one thing that shuts it all down.
We loaded the kids in the van and drove away. "So...?" After the service, Kristy's voice was hopeful.
"Nope." I just let the word fall out of my mouth, too weary to put any emotion behind it. I'd just noticed that, in the process of preaching, I'd soaked my shirt with perspiration. I couldn't remember doing that before.
"I'm sorry," she said, putting her hand on my arm. As we drove away, we passed people I'd let myself dream of reaching, neighborhoods that were going to be impacted, the beautiful downtown and waterfront.
And we drove toward what God has for us. Right now, it looks a lot like what He's had for us the past six months (six months!). But I know that what He's got doesn't look like hanging on 'til Jesus comes. It looks more like taking the message of God's love and salvation, and building a community of Christ followers that makes an impact in their world.
That much I know.
posted by pastor mike at 1:11 PM
2 Comments:
I always felt weird. I never could understand how pastor after pastor could look forward to Jesus' coming. They'd talk with a great energy about how wonderful and glorious it would be for him to come while they were in a service and take them all up and... I dunno. I always felt weird because I disagreed. I never thought it would be wonderful, and I always felt bad for thinking that.
I guess my train of thought was that... these were men who had committed themselves to the task of finding lost souls and winning them to Christ through the preaching of the gospel. Yeah, it's impossible to save the world... but my line of sight has always been slightly askew. I always thought that they should be wanting more time... more time to keep preaching, more time to keep winning souls... more time to keep fighting the good fight. Looking for the checkered flag is somewhat different than running the race, it always seemed to me.
My heart goes out to you. That feeling stinks but... I dunno. You're not the kind of person to just wait for the sign that it's all over. You've always struck me as the kind to want more time to fight. This kind of drives that home. Just saying that it stinks that you're not being allowed to fight that fight here... it doesn't seem like enough. Just saying it stinks seems like it's belittling what's going on, I s'pose; but it does stink. It stinks that there are these churches just kind of holding on. It stinks that this church is just going to see what all their options are.
Thank you for sharing your heart, time and again. I'm praying you guys always, and for these churches that are just hanging on all the more...
Very little is as irksome as having someone tell you how they had it worse than you do when you are going through a hard time. So I will not say that, merely insinuate it :)
Let's take a step back away from the pain of rejection and turn from the feeling of disappointment and look at how God blesses us.
I didn't want to move to Peoria as most everyone should know, I had two job interviews in the month of September of 2004 that I was awesome at. I interview well and I know when I screw up and when I really nail it.
There was one in particular, I had gone through the second interview process, the job was easier than the one I was doing at the time and I knew I could do it.
I absolutely charmed the interviewers, I could tell that they genuinely LIKED me, and that is more important than qualifications really when interviewing.
When the rejection came I was pretty crushed. At this point I had been unemployed or underemployed for three years! The bills piled up, sinking deeper into credit card debt, and really no hope in sight. Carrie's unemployment would run out in a month and she was unable to get a job, and with her rapidly deteriorating health, she wouldn't be able to hold a decent job either.
Out of this darkness and despair I came to SMI. I make enough to pay the bills and make headway into the debt. God has truly blessed.
It took three years.
Don't focus on the bad, look to the good. You have a fantastic job at a place that not only gives you a paycheck on a weekly basis, but also didn't throw you out the doors when April was over. You can pay your bills and there are people here who actually care about you! You as a person, not just some worker.
Now let's look at the job. I know you desparately want to get into the ministry, but have patience, it has only been six months. That is nothing in the grand scheme of things. What you really were rejected for was working two jobs. You would have had to keep working here at SMI while ministering to your new flock. That would have been incredibly time consuming. You also have a wife with another child on the way. Maybe God just wants you to have one job outside the home?
Somethimes we grow too used to the good things that we have that we take them for gratned, I know I sure did. Three years of not having those good things really makes me appreciate what I have, but three years of rejection after rejection also makes me have a lot of empathy for people suffering from the same thing.
I guess all I'm trying to say is that we have it good, REALLY good. Many Americans don't realize this, even worse, most Christians don't realize this. We should always thank God for the good things we are given and wait patiently (how I hate that word) for the trials and tribulations, and more good things that he will send our way.
I'm not going to say that I'm sure that a pastoral position will come eventually, but what I will say is that God desires what is good for us, so I can say with all faith that what is good for you, Mike Rowell, will come to you eventually.
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