I met a pastor last weekend and, in the course of conversation he said, "It's hard sometimes." He was speaking of leading a church. No surprise there. I asked, "What's the hardest thing about it for you?" Having been raised around church leadership and involved in some type of church ministry for most of my life, I half expected to hear one of the two most common complaints of pastors--or for that matter, of people in general. Complaints about life. Not just church life. "Finances. We need more money." "People. Difficult, annoying, immature people." But he said none of those. Instead, without hesitation, he answered, "The hardest thing is seeing desperate needs all around me, and feeling helpless to meet them." His words left me humbled, speechless inside. I felt as if I were standing on holy ground in that moment, myself in desperate need of cleansing. I don't always have the heart of a shepherd, as my pastor-husband has. As this man has. As every believer is supposed to have. Too often I've allowed the messy business of leading get in the way of tending to the needs of sheep. But today... I'm thinking of needs, dire needs. And of the Gentle Shepherd and what the tax collector saw in His face that day, and wrote down so we will never forget how to be: "When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd." --Matthew 9:36
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Recently a former pastor said to me, "I appreciate what you're doing. I've been there, done that--going door-to-door, trying to get people to come to church. I know what it's like."
My stomach turned. The last thing I want to do is grow "Club Church." Get people to become a member. Pay their dues. Receive "club member benefits." Learn the secret handshake. Yeah, I've been there, done that, too. And frankly, I'm sick of it. If I go "door-to-door" in our little church's community, it's not to grow the church club--it's to build the Kingdom of God. When I look at a person, I don't want to see a potential new church member; I want to see a new citizen of the Kingdom of Heaven. Because I happen to believe that, without God, we can't live life the way it was meant to be lived. We say these things, those of us who "get it" when it comes to understanding what the church really is (It's "people", people!) But here's the thing: I want to mean it. In my heart of hearts, I want no walls of any kind when it comes to relating to others. I want to like people for who they are, not for what they can offer, inside or outside the building and all the policy and politics that come with it. But how do you do that? How do you maintain loving and transparent relationships within the context of necessary church structure? How do you see past the four walls and keep enjoying people--inside or outside the walls--simply for who they are? Some would say you leave the building. Here's a news flash: Jesus taught in the synagogue, daily. Talk about man-made tradition! He sat there, listening to the religious prudes read about Him while denying Him at the same time. But He stayed, because that's where the people were. "The institution" was the platform His Father gave Him for teaching the truth. Standing up in the temple, reading from the scrolls--those were simply the vehicle for his message: "I have come to give you life outside these walls!" So. As much as a part of me would love to, I'm not leaving the church. But I am quitting the church--at least, the church as we know it. And quitting is a process. I still find myself, too often, engaged in "club mentality": We need more help. We need this or that program. We need, need, need, need, need. For what? To grow the club? Rubbish! We need God's presence, and we need it now. To love each other better, so we can grow His Kingdom together and change this crazy world. |
AuthorFaith Bogdan Archives
November 2013
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