WHY I'VE STAYED - Christianity Today

Randy, a fellow minister and friend, caught my eye and motioned toward a private corner. I could see a heavy question coming.

“How do you know when it is time to move?” he almost begged.

His searching eyes suggested the question was more painfully complex than its simple phrasing. Randy is not alone. Most ministers find themselves in his quandary periodically, if not persistently.

For fifteen years I have served one church, but I have frequently faced the question of moving. I am not suggesting ministers should never move or that I never will. A move is sometimes imperative. So far, however, I have chosen to stay because of some guidelines hammered out along the way. These principles at least brush against the question Randy and you and I often ask: Is it time to move?

No doubt you sense my bias. I am unabashedly in favor of long tenures in ministry. Ministry, like marriage, finds its fulfillment in faithfulness. Marriage vows are intended to last until death brings separation; a ministerial covenant does not imply such sacred permanence. Nevertheless, when a shepherd is called to a covenant with a flock, that union is not to be terminated lightly.

The Long-playing Record

Longevity in ministry is an enormous plus. After nearly fifteen years with the same church, I have observed something like this:

The first two years you can do nothing wrong.

The second two years you can do nothing right.

The fifth and sixth years of a ministry, either you leave, or the people who think you can do nothing right leave. Or you change, or they change, or you both change.

Productive ministry emerges somewhere in the seventh year or beyond.

Why does increasing tenure generally enrich the quality of ministry? For one thing, time gives the sensitive minister intimate rapport with the community. Its needs become more clear. The minister also becomes more familiar with the local communication networks. Thus, in most cases, time helps a minister connect more precisely with the needs of the people.

Effective ministry often demands that a church make costly and radical shifts. Even the most loyal Christians will not willingly retool major patterns of living in response to temporary pastoral leadership. But when godly people gain confidence in the permanence of the leader and accept the direction he or she is going, they will more readily make the significant changes necessary.

Example: The ink is still wet on a document generated by our long-range-planning task force. We are facing a major building project. Even before the findings were complete, the elders wanted to know if they could reasonably expect me to be in the Highland pulpit for at least the next five years. Am I indispensable to the growth of this church? Definitely not! But the people will be asked to pay the high price of expansion in dollars, work, and inconvenience. Before they can be expected to make this commitment, they deserve some assurance there will be no switch of signals from the pulpit.

Long tenure in ministry also enhances credibility. People respect and trust a person who loves them. Only over time can love be authenticated. I’ve believed this a long time, but I believe it even more since M. J.’s wedding.

M. J. grew up in our congregation. She started first grade the year I arrived. She was part of our youth ministry, mission trips, and singing groups. M. J.’s parents are divorced. I often listened and prayed as she processed the pain of family problems. Once M. J. went as our “daughter” on a churchwide family canoe run down the Guadalupe River.

During the hours of premarital counseling with M. J. and Mark, they invaded my heart even deeper. Then came the wedding, a garden affair under the oaks and amid the flowers. While the wedding was informal, it had a touch of elegance. The bridal attendants were Libby, Carra, Marla, and Holly-friends M. J. had grown up with. As little girls they had skipped into Sunday school together with their bashful gap-toothed grins and white stockings that sometimes bagged at the knees.

At one point during the ceremony, all the girls sang the words from Jeremiah 31:

They will come and shout for joy on the heights of Zion;

They will rejoice in the bounty of the Lord. . .

Then maidens will dance and be glad, young men and old as well.

I will turn their mourning into gladness;

I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow.

For a few seconds, my ears heard the voices of children singing as they had so many times as little girls. The rush of emotion was nearly frightening. I was scarcely able to gather my scattered wits to continue the ceremony. Oh yes! There are powerful feelings between church and minister that only time can create.

A healthy family in the parsonage also enhances the minister’s credibility. As a minister’s family moves successfully through several developmental stages before the watching eyes of the community, the leaders of that family gather respect as parents who manage relationships well and whose faith is authentic and contagious.

The access to people’s lives during a long tenure of ministry is awesome. A teacher sees a child in a handful of classes at best. A coach will relate to athletes for one or two seasons. A counselor or social worker or policeman will see a few people, and then only when they are in trouble. But God’s minister enjoys interaction with a staggering number of people of all ages and through a collage of experiences and changes. Life-changing impact continues as long as both parson and person remain in the same congregation, and even beyond.

The Sunday morning prior to high school graduation is traditionally a roller coaster of emotions at our church. The seniors sit in a special section. I usually step over to where they’re seated and reminisce a bit with each one, then give some personal words of blessing and farewell. The elders present each senior with a signed New Testament and give each student a warm, often tearful hug and a heartfelt prayer.

In my twelfth year here, Senior Sunday hit me with hurricane strength. As I looked into the faces of more than thirty young men and women, I was suddenly overwhelmed by the realization that their lives and mine had been entwined since they were in first grade.

I had screamed at their ball games, grieved with some through death or divorce in their families, talked one or two down from drug and alcohol binges, heard whispered confessions of fear of pregnancy. We had been canoeing, backpacking, and swimming together. I had spoken at school events, hugged track stars and homecoming queens and their friends. I had heard most of them confess Jesus as Lord and had baptized most of them. And now they were leaving! What those kids and I were feeling-what the whole church was feeling-is just a small slice of the ministry possible only through long tenure.

Many factors enter the minister-church relationship as time passes. I can enumerate only a few. But one thing is sure: eventually, these elements combine in a powerful synergism not attainable in a few years. The ministry with the most impact is usually the one that has survived the longest. All too often, hasty moves cut short what could have been an increasingly rewarding ministry.

The Solid Foundation

Before I discuss specific reasons to go or to stay, I need to lay a foundation.

My assumptions about minister-church relationships distill into three words: calling, shepherd, and covenant.

First, what is a calling? Do you not yearn for a task of God’s choosing rather than your own, something bearing a divine aura? I know I do.

A sense of calling, while indispensable, is also vulnerable to self-deception. Calling is claimed through a wide variety of experiences-from the traditional to the bizarre.

The story is told that deep in the jungle, at a fork in the road, sat a witch doctor, his weathered face locked in concentration on a stick he repeatedly tossed into the air. A traveler who chanced upon the scene watched in curiosity as the shaman repeated the process over and over.

“What are you doing?” interrupted the traveler.

“I am asking the medicine stick which way I am to go,” replied the witch doctor. “As it falls to the ground it points the way.”

“And why do you throw it so many times?” the traveler asked.

“Because I don’t want to go where the stick is pointing!”

Most of us want to be more submissive and less subjective than the witch doctor, yet an explicit definition of our calling eludes many of us. Some of us consider our own experience too intensely personal and subjective to reveal or rely on. Yet unless I am drawn to my place of ministry by a sense of God’s leading, there will be paralyzing ambivalence when I consider my motives. The word call must be at the heart of ministerial motives.

The next metaphor-shepherd-depicts relationships. In ancient Palestine a shepherd was not hired through a downtown employment office. The shepherding task demanded more than a hireling- someone so desperate for work he could be persuaded to camp in a pasture for pay. For an authentic shepherd, the hills were a permanent home. His life centered on his sheep. When lambs were born, the first hands to caress them were those of the shepherd, and the first voice to greet their ears was the shepherd’s voice. The growing lambs came to associate the resonance of that voice and the stroking of those hands with green pastures and still waters. By the time the lambs were fully grown, an intimate, trusting relationship was bonded between sheep and shepherd.

Something resembling this sheep-shepherd relationship is surely not too much to expect between a minister and a church. God’s servant enters a serious commitment when taking responsibility for a congregation. So does the church. Minister and congregation will be trekking the hills together, crossing treacherous chasms, braving icy storms, and facing hungry wolves. Together they will also graze in green pastures and rest by still waters, where their relationships with each other and with God will flourish. Effective ministry comes from authentic relationships, and these relationships take time.

When a relationship is viewed as a covenant, its strength grows dramatically. Broken covenants result in broken hearts, whether in marriages or churches. When covenants are superficial, a minister may become more hireling than shepherd and a spouse more halfhearted roommate than lover.

A Time to Stay

Frequently, the urge to move strikes on blue Monday mornings, tempting us to move for all the wrong reasons. When is it seldom a good idea to move?

When I’m frustrated that church growth has plateaued. Most churches experience periodic plateaus. A plateau may end in a drop off or form the footstool of a mountain! Using numbers as the lone criterion for effectiveness may need reevaluation, as well.

Of course our wart-ridden old parish doesn’t match our ideal. No church does. It’s easy to forget that often the attractiveness of a prospective church exists only in the eye of the frustrated beholder.

In my own case I am haunted by this question: If I have failed to lead this church into growth, what makes me think I will do it with another?

When a problem person is making me miserable. Most of us have endured those agonizing weeks when anywhere else looked appealing-anywhere to get away from that intolerable but unavoidable someone in the church.

In such a week I remind myself, “This impossible character could actually be an opportunity for personal growth. Be careful! You could be running from something God is trying to teach you. Besides, every church-even the next one-harbors at least one pain in the neck.”

When more money is offered elsewhere. Remember the assumptions underlying minister-church relationships: call, shepherd, and covenant? To answer a call only because it promises a generous boost to salary and prestige may not honor covenant or reflect the shepherd’s heart. Upward mobility is no sin in itself, but the desire for well-situated positions is spiritually perilous. Seldom, if ever, is a larger salary to be taken in itself as a call of God.

When I am hurt. No one likes to hang around abusive people, and God does not require a vow of masochism. Pain, however, is not always symptomatic of a ministry gone wrong. More often, pain can be the very means God uses to accomplish necessary growth as well as fruitful ministry.

I once believed it possible that a church might bring suffering to a minister. I now believe it is inevitable. There is no long-term, life-changing ministry without pain. We cannot confront evil and live with our fellow sin-victims without living at the edge of agony. I try to remember that God’s most awesome deed was accomplished in his deepest suffering. We are called to “share his suffering.”

Of course, pain can also be self-inflicted. If I have been hurt too many times by too many people, I need to evaluate. Problems and disappointments can’t always be someone else’s fault. Painful though it may be, reviewing the history of my own embattled relationships can be an ideal growth opportunity. During the early stages of my relationship with Highland Church, I wondered why such good people often became hostile with me, “a nice young man just trying to serve God.” In the rearview mirror, I see a miracle that these people tolerated some of my attitudes.

A Time to Go

As surely as grievances real or imagined can seduce us to move for inappropriate reasons, healthy factors sometimes compel us to go. Leaving too soon can be tragic. Staying too long can be equally disastrous. Here are four scenarios that might call for a move.

When staying with the present church violates my integrity. For example, sometimes pulpit and pew honestly part company theologically. Other times the convictions of minister and members fall completely at odds over the direction a church should take. To remain in a church in violation of one’s conscience breaks a higher covenant than the relationship between minister and congregation. One’s sacred personal covenant with almighty God obviously has first priority.

When family needs would be ignored by staying. Marriages have been damaged, emotional health impaired, even faith destroyed out of misguided loyalty to a ministry. Covenant commitment to family must take precedence over one’s commitment to a church.

Some dear friends, “Joe and Carol,” confronted the crunch between ministerial possibilities and family needs. “I’ve found myself in the most fruitful ministry of my life. I feel I ought to stay. But Carol is miserable here,” Joe confessed. “She has always been outgoing and had stacks of friends wherever we have been. Somehow, she just can’t connect here at Oakhaven. She’s given it a good shot, over two years, but things are not getting any better. Is Satan luring me away from a good work through my own wife? Or is Carol my first priority?”

Joe decided to move. After more than two years, God is blessing Joe’s ministry at Hope Valley far beyond what Joe could have imagined at Oakhaven. Even better news: Carol is blossoming again. She enjoys a sense of belonging, and God is using her tremendously.

Did Joe and Carol make a good decision? Didn’t Jesus say, “If you love family more than me, you are not worthy of me?” My response is that commitment to Jesus must not be confused with our obligations to a given congregation. God made families long before he made churches.

When the relationship between minister and congregation no longer exists. In a marriage, when trust has been destroyed through infidelity, or when one partner no longer wants anything to do with the other, some would contend the relationship has already, in a sense, ended.

When are things over between a minister and a church? Who knows for sure? But is there any point in staying when my credibility has been irreparably damaged?

When the church no longer wants me, for whatever reason, a relationship no longer exists. Conversely, when leaders of a church have consistently betrayed me, my trust in them will be shattered. When either of these conditions exists, covenant has been broken, and I am, in fact, no longer a shepherd of that flock.

When it is clearly the will of God that I go to a specific new ministry.

While our first three scenarios indicate a move for somewhat negative reasons, the fourth describes a positive indicator-being led to new fields, not being driven from an old one.

How can I determine whether I am being driven or led? I must gather the hard information indispensable to sound planning. I need a no-nonsense understanding of the prospective church. But even after the spadework has been done, I also need some certainty that God is beckoning in a new direction.

Discerning God’s Will

Discerning the will of God is not always simple. Sometimes in our intent search for God’s guidance, we wind up inside a subjective and confusing house of mirrors. Passion for divine guidance must be tempered by godly caution.

Discernment begins on our knees. A healthy decision is bathed in prayer from beginning to end. Since God reveals his purposes through Scripture, people of prayer will turn also to the Word.

But eventually, the seeker must confront specifics not addressed in Scripture, and God often leads through the counsel of wise and godly people. In the final analysis, crossroads decisions are usually very lonely. But the journey to the point of decision is best traveled in the company of several trusted confidants.

The Lord may also lead through convicting circumstances, troubled conscience, and my own spiritual gifts. I must resist the deadly inclination to silence my nagging questions: Toward what are the events of life pointing me? Could God be shaping me into an instrument better suited to another setting? Why do special kinds of people and needs in other places chronically tug at my conscience? What about my gifts? Am I neglecting them in the demands of the present church?

At times the Lord may back us into a decision. My friend Jay learned this. “Jay,” I probed, “why did you move to Hope Rock?”

After a reflective moment, Jay responded, “When the call came from Hope Rock, everything looked right, but I sat down and generated a list of seventeen reasons why I shouldn’t go. One by one, all those reasons evaporated. I knew it was God at work. When the reasons were all gone, I knew I had to move.”

To attempt an exhaustive analysis of the ways and means God leads, however, would border on sacrilege. Who understands all of God’s mysterious leading? Many factors, I am sure, are involved in the guidance process, yet any one of them taken by itself could be disastrously misleading. Yet all the available components, taken together, can produce a helpful grid for discerning the will of God.

Places of the Heart

Randy, my friend mentioned at the beginning of this article, stayed where he was, declining several calls from large churches offering higher salaries and more prestige. Joe, also mentioned earlier, moved in response to a call that had all the perks involved in Randy’s offers. Both are at peace with God and immersed in richly anointed ministries. Each listened to counsel from the secret places of his heart. So must each of us.

In the final analysis, I must examine the purity of my own heart. God’s will can never be clear to me if my desire to obey him is not genuine. Jesus probes this nerve when he says: “If the light that is in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!” (Matt. 6:23). T. S. Eliot wrote, “The greatest treason is to do the right thing for the wrong reason.” Any attempt to know God’s leading will be futile if my heart is not genuine.

If my heart rests in God, I can be at the center of his will in any number of churches. Where I go and how long I stay are really beside the point.

The secret places of our hearts cannot be entered hurriedly. Silencing internal noises long enough to hear the still, small voice is not for the impatient. But across the ages those who have listened declare the results worthwhile. As M. L. Haskins wrote,

I said to the man who stood

at the gate of the year:

“Give me a light

that I may tread safely

into the unknown!”

and he replied:

“Go out into the darkness and put your hand

into the hand of God.

That shall be to you

better than light

and safer than a known way.”

-Lynn Anderson is minister at Highland Church of Christ Abilene, Texas.

* * *

THE OTHER SPURGEON

One day I was jogging in the forest near my house when a question popped into my mind: What about John Spurgeon?

I admit, not many people are losing sleep over that question, but I had been reading the autobiography of the famous British preacher, Charles Haddon Spurgeon. I was asking the Lord to bless my ministry like his. And then that question hit me, and I began thinking about John Spurgeon.

Ever heard of him? Until my recent reading, I never had. He was the father of Charles. He was himself a pastor and the son of a pastor. Yet if his son had not achieved such fame as a preacher, John Spurgeon would have served the Lord faithfully, gone to his grave, and we never would have heard of him.

Hundreds of pastors like him have walked with God, shepherded his flock for a lifetime, and gone to their reward without any notice in the sight of the world. As I jogged, I thought, Would I be willing to serve God faithfully and raise up my children to serve him, even if I never achieved any recognition? Even if no one but my own small congregation knew my name?

The more I thought about it, the more I realized, Yes! That’s really what I want: to be faithful to the Lord in my personal walk, in my family, and in my shepherding of God’s flock.

The Lord never says, “Well done, good and famous servant,” but he does say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

If God makes me as famous as Charles Spurgeon, that’s his business. My business is to be as faithful as John Spurgeon.

-Steven J. Cole

Cedarpines Community Church

Crestline, California