Over the past few weeks, I have found myself engaged in several different conversations in which a desire for understanding has collided with an incomplete interpretation of the Bible. One conversation concerned how Christians in our day and time should consider divorce. Another exchange focused on how “the unpardonable sin” of blasphemy manifests itself in our culture today. And still a third discussion revolved around whether or not homosexuality is a moral sin and how Christians are to respond to homosexual lifestyles. The interesting thing was that, in each conversation, I began to notice Continue reading
Category Archives: Ministry
Articles specifically concerning pastoral/ministerial endeavors and responsibilities.
What I’ve Learned from the War: 3 Lessons in Faith
Last Saturday, the 12th, brought me to the one-year mark in my current job search. For those of you familiar with my subtle, yet often long-winded, laments about this experience, don’t click away just yet. This post is not another whine or cynical complaint. It’s more of a retrospective. The few readers who have journeyed with me by way of this blog for a considerable amount of time will know that one of my favorite miniature quotations – the one I most take to heart, perhaps – is written by Frederick Buechner. It’s four little words: “Listen to your life.”
Specifically, I’ve done my best to keep an open mind in the midst of this war. What war, you ask? It’s the war that rages within, the job search war that is fought on multiple fronts: the emotional front, the psychological front, the physical front, the social front, and, sometimes the most bloody of all, the spiritual front. And the clash takes a toll that lingers long, more like a Hundred Year’s War than a Six-Day War.
"Hotel, Echo, Lima, Papa! Do you acknowledge?!"
Yet through all the waiting and wondering and dreaming and doubting – despite the escalation of hostilities between faith and frustrated despair – I’ve tried my best to adhere to Buechner’s aphorism. What follows are a few of the many things I have learned about remaining faithful to God during hard times…
#1 – Faith Often Conflicts with Common Sense
For a person who has been a practicing Christian for a while (as opposed to someone who merely claims the title without authentically pursuing God), it is no secret that faith seems to directly contradict reason and levelheadedness. I happen to believe that “contradiction” isn’t the right word – in my opinion, it’s not that faith contradicts reason; it simply doesn’t allow reason to be the stopping point or the final judgment. Either way, however, such a mindset often conflicts with good, old-fashioned common sense. In other words, it’s hard for a person operating on blind faith to always come across as sensible, or to make decisions that other people would consider practical.
"Seriously, man. This isn't rational."
I’ll give you an example from this past year. In mid-August, I was finally offered a position at a church. It had been a long summer following an even longer winter and spring (that whole broken foot fiasco didn’t help matters), and more than anything my wife and I wanted a job for me so we could settle down somewhere and begin feeling like our own family again. And, on paper, the job looked great. I appeared to be the perfect candidate, and I liked all of the people I had met during the visit. All that was left was to hear the salary and either accept or deny the offer. Only I couldn’t do it. Something wasn’t right. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but when I tried to picture myself in the position, doing the job and living life in that community, something was off. Despite every ounce of common sense crying out within me like that scene toward the end of Revenge of the Sith where Darth Vader screams, “Noooooo!” (only way more dramatic, because that was ridiculous), I called up the pastor and told him I wasn’t the guy for the job. There was a lump in my throat when I spoke, and I had to hold back tears of frustration and guilt.
Actually, the Emporer just told him that none of his new gear is covered by workman's comp.
Someone on the outside looking in might say I was swayed not by some lack of peace, but from the anxiety of starting a new position and creating a home for my family in a new state. They might comment that another position in which I was still a candidate was more appealing and I was holding out for that one. That person might even be partially correct. But the point is that when all was said and done, I believed I had to operate by faith and not reason. Reason alone would have found me taking the job. Faith went beyond it, to the detriment of all common sense and good judgment, and kept me searching.
I still regret turning down the offer. After all, I’m only human. But, if I’m going to truly deny myself for the sake of knowing God in all things, the decisions I make must be made through the motivation of faith, not the ratiocination of mere human circumstance.
#2 – I’m Not Job, and God Doesn’t Audibly Speak to Me
The first part is good, obviously (and don’t think I haven’t wondered at the homonym between the biblical character and the fact that I’m engaged in a “job” search). The second part is hard not to wish for. I’ve actually had absurd thoughts that guys like Abraham, Jacob, Moses, Samuel, Paul – yes, even Jesus – had it easy. Can you believe that? Easy! As if familial separation, dangerous kings, angelic appearances, disembodied voices, selfish nations, storms, shipwrecks – and to top it off for Jesus, the cross – could ever be considered a walk in the park. And why? Because God actually spoke to them – told them what was up.
"Hey, it's me again. Yeah, I'm gonna need you to climb another mountain."
Then I think of Job’s story, not to mention Jonah’s and Hosea’s and all the rest of those guys I just mentioned, and I realize that the most terrifying thing I can imagine is God speaking to me audibly, in a way I can’t deny or escape. It’s not only because the incontrovertible command of God would expose every inch of my selfishness – it’s because the very paradigm by which I have lived my entire life as a Christian would be instantly burned away. When God speaks audibly, faith evaporates. Sometimes we wish God would just rend the clouds and speak directly to us and justtelluswhatweshoulddopleaseohpleaseohplease. We can even become resentful that God doesn’t cut through the veil and reveal himself, or at least make known that enigmatic thing we call “his will.”
The irrefutable presence of God – the complete invasion of his will into my life – takes away every aspect of my free will, which is the penultimate gift he gives each human being. Think of every voluntary choice you ever made in your life… which is impossible, of course, because the best attempts at a quantifiable answer is upwards of 5000 per day! But let’s say only .5 percent of those actually affect your life in significant ways – that’s 25 a day, which is 175 a week, which is around 750-775 a month, which leads to roughly 9200 significant, life-altering decisions a year. We also know, though, that one seemingly trivial decision can breed thousands, increasing the number of choices we have to make exponentially. I could go on, but blood is already dribbling out of my ears.
Amateur.
For whatever reason, God chose to plant us in a world that is cultivated, for better or for worse, by our decisions. This is the existence we know, and even though it can be hard – even though we are faced with moments where the effect our choices can have can shudder us to our core – we beat on.
#3 – My Hope Must Be in God, Not in a Job
It seems an obvious statement to make, but it has fingers that dig extremely deep.
When I taught high school English, my classes read The Great Gatsby, and we always discussed both the theme of materialism as well as the question of how basic, perhaps even primal, were the characters’ connections with security and stability, and how they were motivated by these connections to do what they did. I cannot help but remember these discussions when I consider how much I and my wife want me to find a job so we can move out of my parents house and establish ourselves in a community – so we can determine what our grocery store will be, how we will arrange our kitchen, decorate the baby’s room, organize our daughter’s toys, etc. These are the things that make a person feel like he is his own person. Call it self-centeredness, call it control, call it concern for stability – we are all guilty of this at one time or another. (Some of us are guilty of it almost every waking moment of every day.)
Regarding my second point, common sense, there seems to be nothing wrong with this. Why should I not be concerned with the welfare and security of my family? What is wrong with hoping for a specific job? With wishing for a home of one’s own? Must every desire for something this side of heaven fall under the category of materialism?
"Really, Jimmy, Two cookies! You're such a hedonist!"
No. And here’s why. If desiring such things makes you feel guilty, this is not the Spirit prompting you to fall back in line. I don’t believe God works that way. Of course, there is a danger in putting one’s hope and trust in a sense of stability or security. If happiness can only be found in gaining or attaining stuff, then you have fallen headlong into materialism. You’ve made possessions and physical comfort your god. I’ve had to guard against this at times during this search – no thirtysomething guy with a wife and kids would rather live as boarders in his parents’ house than have his own place in his own town in his own pace of life. But while I remain extremely thankful for all my parents have done for us during this time, I also have to watch out that my desire for a place does not supersede my desire to know God, to place my hope in him, and to trust his provision above all things. “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty,” claims the writer of Philippians. “I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.”
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Our faith is being molded every day, whether we recognize it or not. It is being challenged and refreshed and strengthened. When we listen to our lives, as Frederick Buechner encourages, we find there are almost as many lessons as there are choices. Sometimes, it can feel like a war. The strain can be difficult to endure, to keep your head down and your strength up as you face battle after battle.
But, no matter how long they may last, wars eventually end. And for the person who endures, there is peace after.
4 Things You Don’t Want to Hear When Looking for a Ministry Job
Tip #1 - Dont wear purple.
I’ve been seeking to land a job by the time Leigh and I arrive back in the States when our three-year term of overseas missionary service comes to an end this summer. I’ve taken to scouring the Internet for available positions on church staffs since mid-November, which, incidentally, was around the same time I injured my foot, a healing process that has included multiple diagnoses, treatments and, just recently, corrective surgery. It’s not that I believe these two situations actually parallel each other, but I do maintain a thin hope that when the bruising goes away, the stitches are removed and I can walk confidently again, perhaps I will also find myself hired at one of the churches to which I have applied. Silly, I know, but if there’s one thing I want as much as the ability to walk and run and exercise again, it is some small sense of job security when we return to the U.S.
Unfortunately, a job search is a job search – a tragicomic experience not without its share of speed bumps, fumbles, and at least a few blunt no-thank-you’s. However, even in failure, a person can keep positivity levels in check as long as he or she trusts that God is along for the ride. Then again, even if a church’s response is ultimately a “Thank you, but no,” there are a few specific things a person seeking a position in a church never wants to hear, such as…
#4 – “We’ll keep your resume on file.”
Landing a position in a church can sometimes be similar to landing a job on any corporation’s staff. This does not mean the work is the same or that God’s call is inconsequential, just that the hiring process is not necessarily different. However, one response born out Human Resources in the standard corporate world is this phrase, which usually follows a polite albeit detached “Thank you for applying.” I can understand why a church might say this to a few folks who were second or third choices; however, in the past I’ve been turned down from several places before I ever even made it to that initial interview, and yet the administrative assistant or search committee chair still tells me they plan to hang on to my resume … the one the committee quickly removed from the pile as if it was covered in rancid sweet-and-sour sauce. Really? You’re gonna hang on to the C.V. of the guy you didn’t jive with enough to even call in for an interview? The one with the oddly unsettling picture of a dude you suspect may be a Marcionite, or a Marxist, or *shudder* a moderate…
"I dont know if hes got the right look for our Pastor of Students."
…you’re gonna keep that one in the files for some rainy day hiring? Seriously, some applicants simply don’t match the position. The Church is made up of an enormously diverse group of people, so it is not a wholly unrealistic assumption that we might not all work together well this side of the Kingdom, Matthew 7:12 notwithstanding. But there’s no reason for us to be patronizing in this job search caper. Just thank me for applying, let me down easy, and send my resume through the shredder.
Or, better yet, recycle that thang!
#3 – “You don’t possess the necessary experience for this position.”
This is the confounding catch-22 of job searches everywhere, from Wall Street to waiting tables at Chili’s, but nowhere is this statement more comically frustrating than when it is handed out to someone seeking a ministry job. There are some churches – and you can have ‘em – that tediously reflect the corporate world in both their staff structure and hiring philosophy, where the pastor is a kind of CEO, and all other positions fall somewhere beneath him in the hierarchy. It is a cold, non-communal way of doing business, but when what you’re running is as business, it works great. However, when what you’re running shepherding is a church, such a model of leadership is tragic.
"Bill, I know youre currently in need of some guidance. Its just that were putting new covers on all our T.P.S. reports..."
Most of the churches I’ve applied to do not seem to maintain this kind of outlook. However, a few come close when they decide not to interview some applicants because of a certain reason I believe to be rather trivial. What reason, you ask? When a person is seeking a certain job he has little or no prior experience working (or wants to work in a church larger than any in which he or she has previously served). The resume is passed over, and the applicant is told this is due to him having a lack of experience. Now, if this person turns around and asks how one gains this level of experience, the search committee chair will normally respond that one must have first held that same kind of position, or have served in a church of the same relative size. Invariably, the applicant is left to ask, “How will I ever gain this necessary experience if no one will ever hire me for such a job?” Basically, a church that passes on someone (without first interviewing him) solely because of what they feel is a lack of experience is perpetuating a system of distrust. How do you know the applicant might not thrive in this position if given the chance? You don’t, but that isn’t reason enough not to sit down for a chat.
Pictured: Actual lack of experience.
How does anyone ever gain experience unless, somewhere, there’s a church willing to respond to even some seemingly inexperienced applicants with hopefulness and alacrity?
#2 – “Blessings to you as you continue in your search.”
We can’t always land the job we want, but even when we try to be a good sport and remain positive in the face of a rejection e-mail or phone call, one thing that tends to rub me the wrong way is some clichéd statement of blessing tacked onto the rejection. It’s not that I don’t appreciate congeniality, but to receive a blessing is, I believe, a holy thing. However, we pin the word “blessing” onto so many things we aren’t necessarily interested in invoking the power and watchcare of God upon. To receive the actual word “blessings” from someone today means about as much as we mean ”God bless you” after a person sneezes. The problem with sending out a short statement of “blessing” to someone you are turning down for a job is that, while I’m sure you wish her nothing but the best, you are essentially troubling this person with another month or so of job-hunting. Often, a clichéd and careless blessing can make the rejection feel even more like a curse – in an e-mail, it is hard not to view it as a lame measure to dial down the inherent indifference of a “Thank you, but no.”
"Thanks for applying, but we find you dreadfully underqualified and repulsive in every way. Blessings to you as you continue in your search."
Now, if you truly do wish God’s blessing upon this person, or you have taken the time to pray for her success in finding a position somewhere, just include that actual prayer, or a personalized message of encouragement. This will mean a lot more than an emotionless and impersonal Gesundheit.
#1 – Nothing.
However, I would take any of the above answers over no answer at all. Yet many of the church positions I look into, send inquiries about, and even submit my resume to, never respond at all. This would not be so frustrating if we did not live in a world permeated by instantaneous electronic communication; almost all of these churches maintain a website and have already journeyed into cyberspace to upload their job description for applicants to view. But these same churches will receive resumes or interested e-mails and will (at best) not check their junk folder on their e-mail account, or (at worst) completely ignore you. A few times, I’ve even left voicemails and have still been ignored, even when all I want is a simple “yes” or “no” regarding whether or not the position is still open. Once again, this invokes a corporation-like image, where companies maintain an intentional distance from applicants, allowing the riff-raff to fall through the cracks
or into the moat
while they pursue only the finest candidates, based on little more than the example of their sterling resumes. Can’t the Church do better? Can’t administrative assistants, search committee chairs and/or pastors take even sixty seconds out of their day to send an e-mail reply that clarifies a potential applicant’s question? Can he or she not dedicate a few minutes to setting up an automated response so that a job seeker receives an immediate confirmation that the resume has been received and, if interested, the church will be in touch again in a few weeks or months. Churches should be about the business of encouragement, even if this takes a little more time out of a staffer’s day. It can be a harrowing experience to search for a job, but even the folks that you ultimately turn down deserve some measure of respect, don’t they?
Final Thoughts
I’ve been on both sides of this hiring thing. I’ve applied to churches and interviewed with a few, and I’ve also participated on search committees. None of these things are easy. However, we must learn to be intentional, as ministers and lay people alike. We must seek to put our best foot forward, not only when applying for a position, but when determining who should receive that position. It takes a significant amount of grace and mercy, but what ministry endeavor doesn’t? It takes cultivating an interest that reaches beyond one’s own church, to the greater field of harvest in which we all labor.
Philosophizing Ministry
At first, I didn’t consider it a window into wonder. It was drudgery, plain and simple.
I haven’t written a “Philosophy of Ministry” since seminary, and I’m embarrassed to admit that the paper I submitted back then was haphazardly slapped together like little Ralphie’s doomed glasses. The philosophy I expressed was serviceable – it had its moments. Ultimately, however, it was dishonest. At that time, so much of my understanding of Christianity and the purpose of the Church was shifting like tectonic plates underneath Merapi – it wasn’t practical to attempt a coherent explanation of “doing” ministry of any kind.
But now I’m applying for jobs again, and the ones that respond to my inquiries want to know my detailed ministry philosophy. It’s a valid request, but the last four days have been difficult when it comes to re-crafting my interpretation of what church ministry is all about. I refuse to be dishonest, and I don’t want to be vague either. So many ministry philosophies, spoken or written down, come across as nebulous and wholly impractical. It is a fine line one walks between ambiguity and thorough priggishness.
It took four drafts, but I finally settled on something I’m proud of – something I wish I could have handed in to my professors back then. Once I polish its formatting, I’ll post it in a new page. It’s idealistic, but I’m not so sure that’s a bad thing. What I’ve learned from writing and rewriting – and revising and re-revising – is that the Church could stand a few more idealists, at least when it comes to believing that the Body of Christ (however schizophrenic and internally quarrelsome it may seem these days) is still God’s instrument for communicating a wonderful redemption for our world.
I think that’s why the writing was drudgery at first – it felt like I was trying to explain the details of a germinating seed once it is sown. It took a while, but I eventually realized that ministry is not about minding the seed. It’s about caring for the soil.
Panhandling for the Gospel
It feels like this sometimes. … Most times.
I’ve written about my philosophies and frustrations with fundraising on this blog before. Our mission agency, which employs us to teach M.K.’s at Black Forest Academy, requires that we raise 100% of the funds necessary to live and work in Germany. Due to life on the Euro, that amount (for mom, dad and baby) amounts to roughly $60,000 a year as a continuous fundraising goal. Granted, Leigh and I have spent very little time living at 100% – it’s most been somewhere around 70-80%, but even that would be preferable to where we stand today, which is somewhere beneath 50% of the amount needed. And we are supposed to return to Germany in one week.
Despite doing much of my “asking” in churches, I often feel like the second-cousin of the street-panhandler. I’m asking for money, with essentially nothing more to offer in return but a thank-you and a “God bless you,” and the giver cannot be certain for what exact purpose I’m going to use this money. Sure, I can explain the basic needs that must be met – rent, utilities, gas, groceries, health insurance premiums, etc. – and I can even show how all the figures breakdown with a nifty PowerPoint. However, when it comes down to it, there is a thin line separating me from a panhandler. I sometimes get to show a PowerPoint, and I have better e-mail access. He may have better exposure, but I will probably get more time with my prospective givers. Despite these things, we are remarkably similar.
To take the comparison further, for both the panhandler on the street and the panhandling missionary visiting the church, the preservation of life is out of our hands. In a spiritual sense, of course, it is in God’s hands. But, when it comes down to the actual acquiring of funds, it is the giver (the person in his car or the family in the pew) that makes every aspect of our life possible. Without the willingness and generosity and, let’s face it, lack of fear, in the giver, neither of us could exist. The street beggar would die on the street, and the missionary would cease to be a missionary (mainly because he or she would be forced to leave the field).
But it takes one thing more. For a true giver, that is. You see, most of the money given to street panhandlers is guilted out of passers-by. We find it difficult to look away completely – to let that person stand alone with his palm held out with nothing placed in it. It can be argued that some shred of our compassion is aroused upon sight, and even when we drive on without donating to his or her way of life, there are those fleeting seconds where the residue of the encounter stiffens us with guilt. I don’t know if the same is true for those who encounter the church panhandler – a.k.a. the missionary – but something similar must go on. It takes one thing more to be a true giver.
It takes the absence of guilt. Such givers to either kind are hard to come by. Leigh and I have several supporters that most likely give, or have given, out of guilt. I think, to some extent, the majority of givers in the world – and especially in the church – give out of at least a partial sense of guilt. Some shred of compassion mixes with unenvy, or perhaps pity, and we give because we don’t want to experience what the life of a person who refuses to give at all feels like.
And if we can rid ourselves of guilt, what fills in the vacancy? Several things, all cut from the same cloth. Excitement. Gladness. Celebration. Satisfaction. Truly, giving always spawns a wonderful feeling inside, no matter who the recipient is. And yet, despite this reality, it is hard for people to get over the hump. The street panhandler should still get a job, and the missionary should have, well, I dunno, budgeted more efficiently…
We have one week left, and at least $1300 per month to go to make it to 80%. Seemingly insurmountable odds. But when giving feels so good, I suppose anything is possible.
