A drunk man I haven’t seen in 2.5 years stood on the front porch. We spent 10 minutes talking outside. The last time he stood at our front door, I was returning his clothes that had just gone through our washer and dryer. His face filled my mind as I wrote a blog post about it October 2016. He’s a homeless alcoholic and IV Meth user who drifts between our neighborhood and family out-of-state.
Shocked to see me when I opened the door last night, he repeated, “you’re still here, you’re still here!”
He started crying after mentioning how I’d previously helped him. The tears surprised and embarrassed him; he assured me they weren’t a sign of his weakness.
Before he walked back into the darkness, I hugged him, prayed for him, and invited him to our 4:00pm [now 10:30am] Sunday service and dinner. I also invited him to return for a shower in our gym and a chance for me to wash his clothes.
About half our conversation was incoherent- stories about those who hurt him while on the streets. Near the end he said, “thanks for letting me vent.”
This man needs more help than our church or I can give. And he doesn’t need me enabling his self-destructive life.
What I can give
But tonight’s encounter reminded me a few things I CAN give him, and all people like him, who ring the Parsonage doorbell: -Prayer -A few minutes of time -An unafraid hug -A hot shower -A chance for freshly-washed clothes -An invitation to join a loving community -A meal with people who won’t abuse him, take advantage of him, or steal from him -Lord willing, my familiar face at the door if he doesn’t return for another 2.5 years
Your situation may not allow you to give all I can give. Not everyone has a church gym with shower facilities next door. Not everyone’s house is well-known among the local homeless. And not everyone should open their door at night to a drunk homeless man.
But what could you give to those in need? How could you help those who need it? Start there.
And to my pastor colleagues… What could you do to stay? What changes in your neighborhood might happen once people start realizing “you’re still here?”
Occasionally, God gives me a sudden glimpse into my own spiritual immaturity.
In our church’s worship service last night [we meet at 4:00pm instead of the usual Sunday morning times], missionaries shared how God had been working in the country this couple had served for 20 years. The missionaries are “Creative Access” missionaries. This means the country where they serve is hostile to indigenous Christians and has completely banned foreign Christian missionaries from entering.
As the missionaries spoke, I saw pictures of poor and harassed people quietly serving Jesus. I heard stories about faithful Christian pastors enduring persecution and harassment. For months, one pastor was arrested every Saturday night and released every Monday. Local authorities were determined he would never preach on Sundays.
But during the entire presentation, what was the dominant thought running through my head?– “Why can’t I get more people to attend our church services?
I can’t grow a church
Now, if you’re part of our church family and reading this my next statement will come as no surprise. I can’t grow a church.
Pick any hobby, skill, or industry…you’ll find some in the field who appear more naturally gifted. For example, some people put in no effort, but yield big results. Some put in a little effort and yield exponential results. And then there’s people like me who put in massive effort (at least, it feels like massive effort) and yield tiny results. [For this blog post, the particular “result” I’m referring to is numerical church attendance growth.]
Here’s the honest truth: I’m just not a great pastor. Given my personality and natural gifts, pastoring a church (in the more traditional sense of that word) is difficult for me.
Before you reply to this post with a warm compliment or kind argument that I’m wrong, let me stop you. I’m not fishing for compliments. But nor am I unfairly criticizing myself.
Here’s another much-needed honest truth: It’s ok to not be “great.” There’s no need to fake it and no need for false compliments affirming that I really am great. I can’t find one Biblical calling for our “greatness.” However, I do find may verses calling for our faithfulness.
No, I’m not a great pastor. Nor am I a terrible pastor. I’m a fairly adequate pastor with pretty average pastor skills (again, using “pastor” in the way that term has commonly been used and understood in North America for much of the last 50-100 years).
Weakness on Display
Last night, while surrounded by multiple vacant seats, I felt like my “average” skills were on display. If a “great” pastor can draw a crowd…I’m not great.
When it comes to ‘average pastoral gifting,’ I score kind of low. In spite of my efforts to improve, my ‘pastoral score’ hasn’t raised much. To borrow a phrase from one of Jesus’ parables, I’m just not a “ten-talent” pastor.
If you’re familiar with our church and the ways I’ve attempted to faithfully follow God the last several years, you’ll know our church does some pretty “out of the box” ministries. We have a great summer day camp we started years ago to low-income families, we host youth groups all summer on mission trips, we’ve helped plant churches, we provide building space at below-market rates to other churches/ministries, and we have a unique summer intern training program.
I can’t speak for all pastors, but I know many struggle with the same gnawing question I felt during last night’s Sunday service– “Whatdoes all that matter if I can’tgrow a church?”
Pain
When it comes to ‘average 33-year-old male health,’ I also score pretty low. And (just as with pastoring), in spite of my efforts to improve, my ‘health score’ hasn’t raised much.
Pain has been my constant Silent Companion for over a decade. I’ve written several times about my pain and auto-immune disorders. But, in daily conversation, I rarely discuss my ailments or pain. I just live with it, avoid choices that exacerbate my body’s frail condition, and occasionally experiment with new treatments/practices. I’ve even learned psychological coping mechanisms that help me almost forget the pain…almost.
Sunday night, I could not forget the pain. Sunday morning, I made some stupid choices that would guarantee I’d feel the pain by Sunday night.
What did I do, you ask? Run five miles? Help someone move? Exhaust myself in the heat?
No. I ironed 6 dress shirts.
An ironing board defeated me.
100% cotton shirts ARE. THE. WORST.
Nothing causes me more excruciating pain and exhaustion than standing in one place.
I spent forever ironing one shirt with a tag that said “Wrinkle free.” Yeah right.
By the end of our Sunday service, I could barely think straight. Holding the simplest of conversations required tremendous mental effort.
My wife headed out for an evening meeting. So I quickly gave the boys baths, put our youngest down for bed, and then laid down on our oldest son’s bed. Finally, I could get off my feet.
For the next 20 minutes, I gave our oldest son the best of myself I could muster. I faked smiles and enthusiasm, attempting to force the pain from my mind.
We had the kind of conversation you’d expect when a pastor-dad attempts to debrief with his 5-year-old son the church Missionary Service: a mixture of short, churchy phrases interrupted with descriptions of Lego and train creations scattered around the room.
Thanks, Andrew
I hid my pain and frailty, and listened our sweet boy’s stories about the imaginary city laid out on his bedroom floor. And then Andrew Murray’s precious words came to mind.
“The Christian often tries to forget his weakness; God wants us to remember it, to feel it deeply. The Christian wants to conquer his weakness and to be freed from it; God wants us to rest and even rejoice in it. The Christian mourns over his weakness; Christ teaches His servant to say, ‘I take pleasure in infirmities. Most gladly …will I…glory in my infirmities’ (2 Cor. 12:9)’ The Christian thinks his weaknesses are his greatest hindrance in the life and service of God; God tells us that it is the secret of strength and success. It is our weakness, heartily accepted and continually realized, that gives our claim and access to the strength of Him who has said, ‘My strength is made perfect in weakness”
Andrew Murray, Abide in Christ: The Joy of Being in God’s Presence
In our 5-year-old’s bedroom, God (once again) placed my pastoral and physical weaknesses back into proper perspective.
What shall we do?
Can you relate? Change my “pastor score” and “health score” to the pertinent “scores” in your life. How do you score in the areas that matter most to you?
Are you the top in your class? Are you the highest-earner, the most qualified, most awarded, most admired? Or, do you score a little lower? Maybe you score really lower. Maybe you’ve quit all sorts of things because your low “scores” caused too much shame.
Do you feel weak? Inadequate? Not good enough? Do you feel embarrassed that your hard work often produces little evidence of “success?” If we do feel this way, what should you and I do about it?
Oh, sure. Many of us could be a little more “successful” with more effort. It’s possible (likely?) you and I could take tangible steps today to learn, improve, change, redirect our efforts, or even totally change directions. It’s even possible we’re unsuccessful because we’ve traveled down a path God never intended.
If God wants us to take any steps to improve or change (small or big) to increase our success, He will gladly show us the way forward as we seek His guidance.
But we should never assume we have the same definition of “success” as God has. Perhaps we do; perhaps we don’t [a wealth of Biblical examples suggest we usually don’t].
Whispers and Screams
The world (and much of the Church) shuns weakness… Weakness, and situations spotlighting our weaknesses, should be avoided at all costs. And when we can’t avoid our weakness, we should at least hide them.
The World SCREAMS “Only the strong succeed!”
The Church SCREAMS “Strong pastors – good pastors – skilled pastors – grow churches!“
My own thoughts SCREAMED “You are not good enough, not skilled enough, not equipped enough, not strong enough. You don’t ‘score high’ enough. You are too weak!“
But then God used Andrew Murray’s comments on 2 Corinthians 12. He whispered to my troubled soul, “my strength is made perfect in weakness.”
If God “makes his strength perfect in weakness, what happens if we constantly run from our weaknesses, and the from the situations that spotlight our weaknesses? Will we miss divine opportunities for God’s perfect strength to shine through us, to even strengthen us?
If we run from Weakness, are we abandoning our (to borrow Murray’s words) “claim and access to the strength of Him?” I don’t know about you, but I’ll take God’s strength over this world’s strength any day of the week.
God, protect me from believing Human Strength can ever substitute for Divine Power.
And by the way,
If you’re near southwest Fort Worth and looking for a church with a “fairly adequate” pastor, I’d love to see you Sunday. Don’t forget, I’m still trying to grow this church. 😉
“I’ll Sing of the Wonderful Promise”
1. I’ll sing of the wonderful promise That Jesus has given to me; “My strength is made perfect in weakness, My grace is sufficient for thee.” And lest my poor heart should forget it, Or ever forgetful should be, He still keeps repeating the promise, My grace is sufficient for thee. 2. His grace is sufficient to save me, And cleanse me from guilt and from sin; Sufficient to sanctify wholly, And give me His Spirit within. His grace is sufficient for trials, No matter how hard they may be, This promise stands over against them, My grace is sufficient for thee. 3. His grace is sufficient for sickness, Sustaining and making me whole; His grace is sufficient when sorrows Like billows roll over the soul. His grace is sufficient for service, It sets us from selfishness free, And sends us to tell to the tried ones, His grace is sufficient for thee. 4. His grace is sufficient to live by, And should we be summoned to die ’Twill light up the valley of shadows, And bear us away to Him nigh. Or when we shall stand in His vict’ry, And Christ in His glory shall see, We’ll fall at His footstool confessing, Thy grace was sufficient for me. 5. It is not our grace that’s sufficient, But His grace, it ever must be: Our graces are transient and changing; His grace is unfailing as He. And so I am ever repeating His wonderful promise to me, My strength is made perfect in weakness, My grace is sufficient for thee. Chorus: Yes, over and over and over, My Savior keeps saying to me; My strength is made perfect in weakness, My grace is sufficient for thee. —“I’ll Sing of the Wonderful Promise,” Albert Benjamin Simpson, 1843-1919
