After finishing my first term as an assistant clergyman, working under the direction of an older (and wiser) minister, I listed a few of the mistakes I found myself making in my early days. And here’s what I’m trying now to avoid.
1. Allowing a small number of people to take up large amounts of time. Somewhere I picked up the idea that an hour-long appointment means sixty minutes, but not everyone in the church sees it that way.
There are some genuinely needy people who need to see us and unwittingly take advantage of our time. These are the souls who come about one problem and end up telling their life story and a number of religious and political opinions. When they find out we’re available to listen to such ramblings, they show up frequently.
Yes, some problems take a long time to discuss, and some people need more than an hour. But most need either a second appointment later on or a resolute hand to the door when the time is up. This requires firmness, and it is not easy to do without feeling rotten. But ask yourself if they would have this much to say to a psychologist or a lawyer who was charging them by the clock.
2. Allowing dependency relationships to form. It is easy to be flattered into thinking “I am the only person who can really help” (or convert or heal or counsel or . . .). Needy people often encourage this attitude; they may even believe it themselves. And the newly ordained are quite vulnerable to this since we long to be of service.
But this, too, is vanity, for ministry is something that belongs to the entire church. There are a few people who will have a singular relationship to the pastor, but most people can be helped by any number of competent, caring persons. When we develop a string of people who can or will be ministered to by ourselves and none other, we do both them and the church a great disservice.
3. Becoming the pastor of the “loyal opposition.” Every parish has a certain percentage of people who think the senior pastor is a terrible, uneducated loafer who really ought to be dismissed. And every minister in the world has enough faults to give this group boxes of ammunition.
One of their favorite games is to lure the assistant into their camp. With praise for us and legitimate criticism of the boss, they hope to have a pet pastor of their own. Even where this does not threaten to divide the congregation, it is spiritually deadly.
If people are really that hurt by a particular minister, they leave and go to another church. But people who choose to remain in a congregation where they are terribly unhappy have unresolved problems that a novice minister cannot solve. It is better to refuse to listen to them unless the other clergy are involved in a grave scandal.
4. Not talking seriously with other young clergy. Some clergy see a lot of each other, but a great deal of that time is spent catching up on the news or discussing the new organ, not ministering to one another. This is not all wrong; “shop talk” is necessary. But we also need opportunities to meet and speak on a private basis.
When I was ordained, a group of us spoke of organizing a fellowship group for assistant and junior clergy and church leaders in our area. We never did, and this was a mistake. It would have been a good idea to meet on a regular basis to exchange horror stories, compare notes on bosses, talk about ideas, and pray together. I look back on some of my friends who have left the area, or the ministry altogether, and think of how such a group could have supported them through difficult waters.
Real fellowship is difficult. It involves trust, and patience, and time. It requires people with whom we have something in common. Most of us have a limited supply of these. But now I’m more willing to work toward fellowship because I realize how much I need it.
5. Neglecting my family. We’ve all heard this warning over and over. Yet how easy it is to forget.
In my case, I wasn’t aware I was ignoring my wife until the day the parish secretary buzzed me to say my two o’clock appointment had arrived. I told her to send the person in, and in came my wife to complain to her pastor about “my husband who is ignoring me.” She made her point. After all, church appointments and committees come and go, but “a good wife who can find? She is more precious than jewels” (Prov. 31:10).
The rite of ordination does not override the rite of marriage. Both are noble callings, and one is not the “higher calling.” Both were instituted by God for the sanctification of his people. By some curious act of his grace, this sanctification includes the clergy.
6. Fearing the local barons. Every parish has its influential people, many of whom have the ear of the senior pastor. These are the people who decide your salary and the amount of time you have off. They’ve seen many assistant pastors come and go. Their opinions on your sermons, pastoral care, spouse, and automobile carry weight with many other people. They are, admittedly, a formidable lot. It is easy to try to avoid them, or to say and do what you think they want.
As I look back over my first two years, however, most of them respected me more when I disagreed with them than when I did not. Not always, but I survived the disagreement. People who are really powerful actually do not have much to fear from novice clergy; it is the people who want to be powerful who are the greatest threat.
7. Arguing over small issues. Of course, fresh out of seminary, you don’t think they’re small at the time. But looking back, I am embarrassed about the issues over which I took the senior pastor to task. I still have not changed my mind on most of those issues. If I ever have a parish of my own, I will certainly do things differently. But they were not issues worthy of ruining his morning. More serious still is that fighting over the location of a chair in the sanctuary rendered me unable to really make a point in more serious debate. Even with older clergy, there is “a time for war and a time for peace” (Eccles. 3:8).
The way to tell the difference between a large and a small issue is to ask ourselves what we would be willing to suffer in defense of that particular opinion. Would I take a cut in pay if the parish let me choose the hymns? Would I shave off my beard to get a guitar into the Sunday service? How many personal books would I burn to establish a new wedding or baptismal policy? Questions like these have a way of putting things into perspective.
8. Talking too much. One of the dangers of being ordained is that people tend to listen to us. Few people (except other clergy) interrupt us. They want to hear our opinions on a variety of issues. Since we have one or two college degrees under our belts, people often assume we know something. The temptation is to use the opportunity to pass off personal opinions as the Word of God.
We may know more about doctrine than many of our flock, but the fact is they know a lot about the world. James 1:19, I had to learn, applies especially to young ministers: “Be quick to hear, slow to speak.” If we are not sure of our facts on a given matter, we should say so. People will probably find out anyway.
9. Not reading. It was odd to me how easy it was to stop studying after ordination. One might have thought that after years of study, habits of regular study had been formed. But as it turned out, it was all I could do to get the notes together for the Bible study or sermon. Why?
The problem with study habits (and devotional habits) formed in seminary is they are most suitable for seminary. In no other place do we have the time to think, pray, and discuss theology as we did there. (It didn’t seem like it at the time, did it?) In the parish, whole new patterns have to be established, because the old seminary patterns don’t hold up.
When I was ordained, I promised I would spend one day a week in study. For a while I managed it, but the time soon became diverted. Finally I did no academic work at all, and my preaching showed it. It was only when I set a modest but workable schedule that reading again became possible. On the advice of another priest, I scheduled single hours of reading into my appointment book each week and treated those hours as appointments.
10. Taking myself so seriously. When I look at some of the photographs taken of me four years ago in my new clerical collar, I am embarrassed. I was so correct, so precise, so proper. The way to live with that kind of past is to enjoy the laugh.
Someone once said that Satan fell by gravity. Certainly many of us in the clergy take ourselves too seriously as well. Surrounded with the problems of parish life, it is hard not to. But my parishioners remember the jokes in my sermons better than my serious stories. Perhaps in this troubled age, it will be mirth that will communicate the gospel.
And one of the best sources of humor may wind up being me. It’s just beginner’s pluck.
-Gregory P. Elder
St. Peter’s Episcopal Church
Del Mar, California
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