Thirty-five years ago, the church steeple rose above the rooftops, calling the community to worship. Today the church, often dwarfed by neighboring structures, is one building among many and overlooked by many passersby on their way to Sunday fun.
A generation ago, phrases like equipping the laity and small groups hadn't entered the church vernacular. Homogeneous sounded like a word to describe milk not churches. And pastors weren't as likely to talk about "staffing the programs," "setting the vision," or "planning strategically."
About thirty-five years ago, Warren Wiersbe was pasturing Central Baptist Church in East Chicago, Indiana, and his wife was giving birth to their first son, David.
Today, David pastors Hope Evangelical Free Church in Roscoe, Illinois, his second pastorate. And Warren, after pasturing Calvary Baptist Church in Covington, Kentucky, and the historic Moody Church in Chicago, is currently general director of Back to the Bible, a radio ministry based in Lincoln, Nebraska. Warren and David have written three books together, the most recent being Making Sense of the Ministry (Baker, 1989).
LEADERSHIP asked these two pastors, from two generations, to talk about the ways ministry is changing.
Warren, tell us about your first church. What were the priorities of that congregation?
Warren: Central Baptist Church in East Chicago, Indiana, was a neighborhood church of 150 blue-collar folks who were always waiting for the next steel strike. The area was changing. A lot of folks were moving up from the South, getting jobs, seeking more income. In addition, the church had been through a split.
I was a member of the church before I became pastor. I was going to Northern Seminary. When the pastor of the church left, they turned to me and said, "You're going to seminary; why don't you preach until we get a new pastor?" I was ordained there in 1951.
So even before I was called as pastor, I preached, visited, and endured various meetings. In fact, my biggest chore was the deacons meeting. I am not made for that kind of a thing. I would rather shovel snow than sit in a board meeting.
The congregation desired to be a successful church. I didn't know what a successful church was. I'm not sure now what a successful church is! But they wanted one that was growing.
Those were difficult years because I didn't know what I was doing. I was running scared. I worked hard at ministry-primarily preaching and visitation-but I never even thought about training lay people to minister. Looking back, discipleship was missing.
But being thrown into the water and having to swim was good for me. All in all, the people patiently taught me a lot. We paid our bills, sent off missionaries, and saw some people convert to Christ and others called into Christian service.
Let's move forward twenty-five years. David, talk about your first church.
David: Grace Evangelical Free Church is located in the Chicago suburb of Schiller Park, an area about 99 percent Roman Catholic. When I arrived only about forty-five people attended worship at Grace. They had gone two and a half years without a pastor. I was still in college at the time but looking for some preaching experience. After filling the pulpit a few times, I was called as pastor in January 1977.
My first day on the job, I had to make two hospital visits, and within three months I led my first funeral. It snowballed from there. In the first two years, I had funerals for three men my age or younger. About ten months in, one lady said to me, "You know, we've had nothing but trouble here since you've come-broken legs, car accidents, funerals, serious illnesses."
I'm not usually this quick, but I found myself replying, "Have you ever thought that maybe God didn't let these things happen until you had a pastor to take care of you?"
What were the church's expectations of you?
David: The congregation's priorities, as I saw them, were: (1) to accept them the way we were ("Don't make this your church; let this be our church"), and (2) to give them a sense of identity ("Assure us that we're going to survive, that we're going to be okay").
After two and a half years without a pastor, they wanted somebody who would be competent consistently in the pulpit and teach the Scriptures. They knew I had to learn how to do this, and they graciously endured and faithfully attended.
They also wanted me to provide some leadership to the programs. A few people had carried things for a long time, and they wanted a break. They were spiritually and emotionally exhausted. So I helped oversee the youth clubs and Sunday school.
You've given us a glimpse of two ministries a generation apart. How would you summarize the changes in the pastor's role from 1951 to 1990?
Warren: When I began, the congregation wanted me to be preacher and pastor. I wasn't to get involved in the school board or worry about civic problems. I was to be a holy man.
Now people are asking, "How does our faith help us understand and work in the community and on the school board?" They still may not want us on the school board, but they do want us to address the issues of the school board. Part of the minister's role today is to interpret the world from a Christian perspective.
They also want us to be managers of the corporation. That's especially true in larger churches. But the notion is entering smaller churches, too.
What do the people at Hope Free Church expect of a minister today?
David: First and foremost, availability. If there has been a crisis in their lives-an illness, a heart attack, a tragedy, a loss of job, a fight between husband and wife, any kind of circumstance that disrupts their sense of security-they want me to be there.
They want a pastor, and, of course, a preacher who can communicate well.
That doesn't sound much different from the expectations of a generation ago.
David: Well, yes and no. What people interpret as communicating well is subjected to an entirely different set of standards than it was thirty years ago. The sophistication of mass communication today prods people to expect more from their preacher.
And more important, the circumstances in which people expect pastoral care have changed. Parishioners increasingly look to their pastors to walk them through everything from fear of sharp objects to fear of the dark. We're supposed to be able to put marriages back together, unwind the psyche of bent teenagers, get people off drugs, and help with eating disorders.
Warren: I was never prepared to do that.
David: No one person can do it, but the modern minister is supposed to be facile in many areas, including medical disorders. I didn't expect it when I entered ministry, but I now know about diabetes, bulimia, oncology, and a host of medical terms, all because I've been confronted with them as part of ministry.
Warren: One of the major problems in America today is addiction-not drug addition, just addiction-to work, to anger, to spending, plus the usual chemical and alcohol dependencies. Sixty million people are touched by addiction in this country. That's one fourth of the population. That means that last Sunday, chances are 250 people in the congregation I preached to were touched by anorexia, gambling, alcohol, medications, anger, or some other addiction. Forty years ago, the only addicts we knew were the people at AA. Today the minister needs to know so much more.
What exactly does the modern pastor have to know? How much?
David: Enough to understand the person's situation. We can no longer talk casually about people's sin or suffering without appreciating the specific problems they wrestle with. At times, people have tuned me out because I have been ignorant and not as understanding as I should have been.
For me to be competent, I have to read widely. I need to attend seminars if I can. I have to know when and where to refer.
But there is so much to know-so many fields, so many disorders. Wouldn't some pastors say, "Why try? I'll just focus on the Bible and spiritual direction"?
Warren: I'm reminded of the story about the lady who said to John Wesley, "God does not need your education." And he said, "God can also do without your ignorance." (Laughter) Maybe it's apocryphal, but it makes the point. We all need to know as much as we can.
David: The contemporary minister is overwhelmingly burdened. The pastoral model is moving, and that requires the pastor to read widely and stay in touch with current trends.
Warren: But let's face it. No professional can keep up with his or her own field, let alone all the others. It's impossible. Doctors can't. Lawyers can't. Ministers have to be generalists who surround themselves with specialists. For example, I have a friend who specializes in Satanism. When I get questions about this, I'll call Mark, or else I'll say, "Here's the man you want to talk to."
No one expects omniscience. But today people do expect you to know enough to realize what not to say. You may not have the answers, but you can keep from spreading misinformation. You also need to know where you can go for help. Today a pastor cannot survive without a network.
Let's talk about personal changes. David, as you've observed your father, what changes have you noticed in his approach to ministry?
David: I was about 10 when dad was hit by a drunk driver and had to recuperate for three months. He couldn't preach, so he started writing. After that, I remember the dust in the back corner of the basement, which was piled high with books. When Dad wasn't resting, or laughing at Dick Van Dyke on TV, he would be reading. Things took a turn for the serious, not in a bad way-he was always there for the family and fun to be with-but the intensity went up a few notches.
Frankly, what has impressed me most about Dad is not change but that the foundation of his ministry-a commitment to Scripture, a focus on Christ-has never changed. There has been a solid core around which other changes have occurred.
What changes have you seen in the midst of that stability?
David: His reading helped him adapt to changing times by knowing what people were thinking. When somebody had something different to say, Dad didn't put on spiritual blinders and say, "Well, that doesn't fit in my grid, so nuts to you." He'd look for the wheat and discard the chaff. He models what he once said: "The foundation of the faith doesn't change, but sometimes the furniture of the faith has to be rearranged."
Warren, what changes do you see in yourself during your ministry?
Warren: I've always been a workaholic. David has helped me loosen up. He'll call and ask what I'm doing. If I'm working, he might say, "Why don't you knock it off for a while. Go for a walk or do something relaxing." Over the years he has taught me that the world's going to keep going even if I take a break.
I've also changed in my appreciation of other Christian traditions. At one time I considered "This Is My Father's World" a liberal song. But somewhere along the way I recognized our Christian responsibility for the created world.
When I began to read widely, especially biography, I realized, Hey, God uses people in all kinds of churches, in all kinds of contexts. He uses Anglicans, Congregationalists, and Plymouth Brethren, but they all have a different approach. It freed me to appreciate other communions.
So, when I was at Moody Church I often would follow the church year without telling anybody and preach a series based on the season. I just didn't use the words Advent or Epiphany.
What about your preaching? Has it changed, or is it part of the stable center that doesn't?
Warren: The way I approach a sermon has changed. I used to concentrate on what the text says, what it means, and how I could make it mean something to somebody else. Now I ask, What does God want these people to hear?
My preaching was academic; now it's more personal. In my first church, if you asked me what I was preaching on, I'd say "Ephesians." Now I would say, "I'm trying to help these people see the need for unity among God's people."
I was raised in a family-Swedish mother, German father-where you did not easily show your feelings. And this characterized my preaching-emotions were not for public display. But after my auto accident, the whole church rallied around our family. The night I was taken to the hospital, a hundred people met with my wife to pray and offer help. I realized then that preaching is more than filling the head with an outline.
I was an enthusiastic outliner, and still am, but there was no heart to my preaching. After that, I couldn't remain academic, standing in the pulpit before people who had showered me with love.
Let's move from changes in the minister to changes in the ministry. Why did people come to church in the fifties, and why do they come in 1990?
Warren: In the fifties, they came because they were loyal. This was their church, so they were present on Sunday morning, Sunday evening, and Wednesday night. We would bring in an evangelist for two weeks, and we could guarantee a good crowd every night. Today, you can hardly get people out twice a weekend.
In the sixties, many people came to church because they were scared. The world was changing rapidly. Every value they held dear was threatened. They were puzzled about what was happening to young people.
In the relational seventies and eighties, people came to church because they needed a caring network. They hurt. Everybody I talk to carries some pain. Woe to that church that doesn't recognize people's needs.
A few preachers can get away with expounding the Word without specifically addressing people's personal problems-A.W. Tozer sometimes did that-but most pastors today find it essential to touch people where they are and then say, "God is real, the Word of God can be trusted, and God will help you." That's what people are looking for.
Why do people come to Hope Free Church today?
David: Dad has covered some of the ground, but people also come because of tradition. They grew up going to church, they're committed to a settled belief, and they hear those beliefs articulated here.
We also see young families beginning to attend who realize, "You know, I went to Sunday school when I was a kid, and I think my little Johnny and Jamie should go, too. I better get them there."
I would say the majority come because of felt needs. They may be enduring the pressure of tense relationships at home and the agony of divorce, or perhaps grieving a suicide or a death.
On the other hand, many who used to go to church as a social outlet no longer have to. Today, people have plenty of social outlets besides the church. In fact, to live in Roscoe, Illinois, you have to be overcommitted. It seems every family is involved in Little League, soccer, gymnastics, dance, ice skating, and computer club.
Warren: Still, many of these people want to be a part of the church. They love their church. They love the pastor. But church is one planet in a universe of activity, the center of which is their home-not God, not the Bible, but their family life.
David: Exactly. Here's an example of the changing attitude. The officers in my first church were always present for board meetings, unless they were sick or there had been an emergency. Now-and this is not a criticism, it's just a difference-if people on the board have a golf game, or if their 5-year-old daughter has a piano recital, they'll skip the board meeting.
So personal time and leisure activities have moved ahead of church on the priority scale?
David: People seem to have less time for church because of their leisure. If they buy a boat, for example, they feel obligated to use it. Their weekends are committed to the lake. They've become enslaved, or to use today's terminology, codependent. (Laughter)
How has the impact of media upon our culture made a difference in the local church?
Warren: First, people today think they are experts in preaching and music because of Christian radio and TV. A special problem for the local church is TV and radio preachers who cultivate a following. (I hope I'm not one of them!) Their followers come to church and evaluate the preacher with a checklist created by the media minister.
Second, people increasingly expect to be entertained by church. I agree with Neil Postman, who wrote in Amusing Ourselves to Death that TV is fundamentally an entertainment medium. Whether the subject matter is religion or the funeral of an assassinated president, the programming becomes entertainment. Now when people come to church, they're looking for stirring music, an eloquent speaker, a professional show.
This is a monstrous problem for many pastors today. I know of one church in Illinois that voted to move their evening service up an hour so they could get home in time to watch their favorite TV preacher. People are not forsaking the local church for the TV ministry, but they are demanding different things of the local church because of it.
How has the change in the traditional family impacted your ministry?
David: That's another thing that is radically altered. I have to find a way to relate not just to traditional families, but to single moms and dads, kids who are bounced between divorced parents, blended families, and others in nontraditional family structures.
Warren: It affects your preaching. How do you deal with Ephesians 5 now? Blowing the trumpet for the traditional family isn't going to help people whose families are splintered. We have to relate the truth to the people where they are.
What subjects are you able to preach today that you couldn't thirty years ago?
David: More than able to, I would say we have to talk about certain things: sexuality, abuse of various forms, alcoholism, suicide.
For a long time, we thought that if you talked about these things, people were more likely to become involved in them. Today because they're so prevalent, we're obligated to address these issues.
Also, there is the issue of self-esteem. Who had heard of self-esteem thirty years ago? Maybe it was there implicitly, but now it's right up front.
Pastors talk a lot more about what goes on between husband and wife, family dynamics, things that used to be considered too intimate. When we talk about them now, couples in the pew will nudge each other and grin.
What can you not preach about today that was effective earlier?
Warren: Thirty years ago prophecy was big. I still have people who suggest, "Why don't you do a series on prophecy?"
I respond, "Because I don't know as much about it as I used to!"
A certain kind of biographical preaching also used to be popular. You didn't expound the Scripture as much as talked about an individual in Scripture, and the lesson from that life. You could preach on Judas and "Wasted Opportunity," or Samson and "The Price of a Haircut." Clarence McCartney was a master at this type of preaching.
These are good sermons, but today they aren't as well received. People are not as interested in the life of a Bible character as they are in a life situation they're facing. Preaching today has to concentrate on one area of interest.
What are the particular temptations of ministry today?
Warren: One of the greatest temptations for the younger preacher today is the yearning for instant success. There are dozens of books on how to dress for success, how to preach, pray, manage, and motivate for success. Because of the media and megaministries, people are success conscious. Young ministers are tempted to be more concerned about reputation than character. As a consequence, they may take shortcuts and may spend a lot of time trying to imitate somebody else instead of being themselves, developing their own character, their own unique ministry.
It's been interesting to see the models of "success" change over the years. In the fifties, many of us looked at what Lee Roberson did. Then the model was Jack Hyles, and then John MacArthur. Somewhere in there Ray Stedman and the "body life" emphasis became the model. Today, Bill Hybels is the model of success for many.
Don't get me wrong. We've learned from all of these individuals. Praise God for them. But all across this country you will find churches that started, let's say, trying to duplicate the body-life methods, and they withered.
We have a tendency to want the quick fix. I'm disturbed when somebody says, "It worked at Willow Creek; it will work for us in Lincoln, Nebraska."
Why aren't more ministers interested in developing their own unique ministries?
Warren: It's dangerous. It's frightening. It can be humbling.
I was in Youth for Christ for several years. Although my main ministry there was to write and teach the Bible, I often was called upon to do evangelism. Most of my friends, and the men I admired, were going out and preaching a simple sermon, and people were getting saved.
I'd go out and preach my best message, and nothing happened. Finally I realized God was telling me, "You're not an evangelist."
"What am I?"
"You're a teacher." From that day, I turned down invitations to do evangelistic services. That's not my calling, even though I wish it were. I am not a motivator. My ministry is simply teaching the Word of God.
That's a relief. But it's also painful, because I have to admit I'm unable to do some things I wish I could.
David: I see a related temptation today: to make ministry happen all by yourself. And the other side is the temptation not to do anything, to be lazy. Today you can point people to radio, videos, and a plethora of books. Pastors can get a video or a movie for every Sunday night of the year and never have to prepare another Sunday evening service or lesson.
Warren: Those resources didn't exist when I started!
David: You can subscribe to services that give you printed sermons or a worship bulletin filled out, so you don't have to milk any cows or churn any butter. You can get lazy.
How about the changing role of the minister's family?
Warren: When we started ministry, the wife was almost the assistant pastor. She was to play the piano, take care of the kids, cook, and be able to entertain people at the last minute, and she wasn't supposed to have a job. Today, in some churches, if she doesn't work outside the home, some think she's not pulling her fair share of the load. She doesn't have to do as much in the church anymore.
David: It depends on the age of the members of the church. Older members want a pastor's wife who will be there. Younger members don't care if the wife works.
How about the so-called glass-house syndrome? Is the pastor's family still under the church's constant scrutiny?
David: I'm not aware of anybody saying to my son, "Your father is the preacher, so you'd better behave." When I was a kid, however, I did feel a certain pressure. That's the way the church was then.
Why are congregations better about this today?
Warren: They understand the minister's personal life better. Preachers can be more human today. When I begin a series on 2 Corinthians, for example, I'm free to say, "I'm preaching this because I need to hear it." And nobody argues with me. If I said that thirty years ago, they'd call me selfish. We can cry today if we need to cry. Back when I started ministry, they expected me to be more of a gilded saint.
However, the glass-house syndrome remains, to some degree, because the minister is a leader, a public person. It affects mayors, school superintendents, and coaches, as well. But today, people accept that pastors have problems, pastors' wives have problems, pastors' children have problems.
David: The man across the street is a high-school football coach. He never comes to me and says, "You're a minister; your kid shouldn't lose his temper." But if he did, I'd say, "Well, you're a coach; your son shouldn't have missed that tackle!" (Laughter)
Warren: People accept that we make mistakes. I've had to apologize to congregations, and they forgive.
Warren, from your perspective, what things do younger pastors, of David's generation, have difficulty understanding about ministry?
Warren: Some of them have not taken time to discover the past. Because of that, they don't last too long. Serious aspiring artists, for example, will spend a lot of time studying other artists. How did Picasso do it? How did Reubens do it? Those who want to be musicians will study the classic music geniuses. But many young pastors don't study the great preachers.
My generation was taught to study preaching. We know how F. W. Robertson would deal with a text, how Spurgeon would deal with it, how Jowett would deal with it. My generation may need to get abreast of the people doing fresh things, but this generation needs to sit down for six months with the Yale lectures.
What did you gain from studying the great preachers?
Warren: First of all, that each preacher is himself. If you handed me five sermons of great preachers, I could come close to identifying who preached them without reading the byline. Maclaren doesn't do it the way Robertson does it. Spurgeon doesn't do it the way Truett does it. Preachers must learn to be themselves.
Second, reading great preaching arouses the imagination. You realize that one text can be approached in hundreds of ways. There is no such thing as the outline of John 3:16 or the outline of Philippians. There's Campbell Morgan's way of doing it, Spurgeon's, Jowett's. To me it's reassuring and exciting to find out that preaching is not just mechanics but art.
David, what about the flip side? What do older ministers and church members need to be reminded of?
David: The older generation needs to remember that we need them. I'm 34 years old. I haven't seen it all, by any stretch. As I'm leading a church, I need those people who have lived through the wars. I need them to give me the benefit of their experiences. But sometimes the older generation says, "The newer ones need to take over; let's sit over here on the bleachers."
When has the older generation helped you?
David: Some time ago we were experiencing growing pains at the church, and people had made some unkind remarks. I took them personally. One of the older gentlemen in church took me out to lunch and said, "Dave, these people are responding to the office of pastor. That's who they are throwing their darts at. They're not mad at you. They just need someone to whom they can express their frustrations about the church." That was a keen insight for me, and it came from somebody who had fought the wars. It made me feel a lot better.
Our church is looking to build. Along the way our building committee became very discouraged about a number of complications, especially the exorbitant cost. At one point we wondered whether we should give up our plans. But at that point, a dear woman, one of the twenty-year veterans, rose and said, "I remember when this church met and there was nothing. Then we took the next step, and God provided what we needed." And she rehearsed the history. She concluded: "Now we're here. God got us here, and he will see us through these complications."
That ended the complaining and discouraging talk. We approached the building project differently from that day forth, thanks to the insight and wisdom of the older generation.
Copyright © 1990 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.
