Renewing Your Sense of Purpose

Sometimes it’s hard to remember why we’re in ministry, or whether it’s worth it. So periodically, we need to think about our call afresh.
—Ed Dobson

The week after Easter, I received this letter: “This was [written] after considerable prayer. My husband and I are submitting to the will of God and the urging of other Christians by walking away from your church.

“While we could easily slip out unnoticed and certainly never be missed, which is definitely one of the problems here, I feel that our reasons for leaving are important enough to share with you.

“From the pulpit recently we heard you comment that there’s not enough unity between our church and other denominations. This, Pastor Dobson, is ecumenism, and ecumenism is of the Antichrist.…

“With which of these apostates would you suggest we unite? Our church in one broad sweep is trampling the grace of God and mocking the gospel. The church is the body of Christ, Pastor Dobson, not the unsaved masses of humanity you’re trying to attract. Our church offers a program for every aspect of society that sets its foot in its walls—single moms, single dads, fatherless children, divorced women, substance abusers, but virtually nothing for believers.

“Although the church may be growing, you are losing the true saints of God. If this has been your goal, you are to be congratulated because you’re achieving it. If not, there’s still time to turn away.”

It was signed, “In Christ, a saint.”

At the bottom of the page, it read, “And thou, Capernaum, which are exalted in the heaven shall be brought down to hell. For if the mighty works which had been done in thee had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until this day. But I say to you it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom in the day of judgment than for thee.”

The same week I received another letter, a response to my sermon, “Smile; It’s Easter, and God Loves You.”

The letter said, “Greetings. Visits to your church have left the following impressions.… [There was] a vapid, soft, and comfortable presentation on Easter with the emphasis on smile rather than our sinfulness driving the Suffering Servant to the Cross. This was so irreverent and out of place as to make one ashamed, not of the gospel, but of its hapless, harmless, one-sided view.… God help us. Whatever happened to the offense of the Cross?”

It was signed, “An Unhappy Camper.”

After the high of Easter Sunday, this was not pleasant reading. Sometimes such criticism makes us wonder, “Is this job worth it?”

Add to those times in ministry when nothing seems to be happening, and we’re sure it isn’t worth it. Now add our culture’s presentation of clergy on TV, movies, and in magazines—meek, mild, and out of touch—and our calling can be thrown into sudden and wrenching doubt: “Is ministry something I should be investing my life in?”

Yes, sometimes it’s hard to remember why we’re in ministry, or whether it’s worth it. So periodically, we need to think about our call afresh.

Sacred history review

“My spirit grows faint within me,” wrote David. “My heart within me is dismayed.” So what does he do? “I remember the days of long ago; I meditate on all your works and consider what your hands have done” (Ps. 143:4-5 niv).

This is how David renewed his sense of call. It’s not a bad idea for pastors: to remember what God has done in their lives and ministries.

I find it especially helpful to remember the origin of my call to ministry. I grew up in a pastor’s home, so there were subliminal expectations from church people that I would follow my father. Though my parents never pushed that agenda on me, others did, and I reacted to it. As far as I was concerned, it was none of their business what I did with my life.

I was sixteen when I went to Bible college, with the understanding that after two years, I would transfer to a state university and pursue medical school. I had my sights set on being a surgeon.

But at college I was continually confronted with the question, “What does God want you to do?” I had never really given the notion much thought. Then passages of Scripture that dealt with preaching and ministry began to stand out during my devotional times. When individuals spoke in chapel on the subject of ministry, something would stir in my heart.

Halfway through my sophomore year, my struggle became more intense. It reached a crisis one evening when I attended a little church outside of my denominational background. The pastor spoke on Jonah. His thesis was simple: Jonah was called to preach, but he ran away from God. The message seemed to point straight at my life.

He then invited people who believed God might be calling them into ministry to come forward. I disliked public invitations, so I didn’t budge. But later that night, I met the pastor in the basement of the church. By then I had made my decision. I said to him, “If the Lord wants me to preach, I’ll preach. Whatever he wants me to do, I’ll do.”

Though the shape and nature of that call has changed over the years, this remains my call: to preach. When there have been harrowing storms to weather, the remembrance of this call has helped me stick to it.

Myth busting

Another tactic when my call seems in doubt is to remember the four myth-busters of ministry. The first three I heard from Truman Dollar; the last I added.

1. It’s never as bad as you think it is. Even when things seem darkest, circumstances are usually not as hopeless or as awful as they first appear. For example, after one particularly tough committee meeting I was left with the impression people didn’t trust me. Then I received a call from my wife. “You won’t believe it, Ed, but you just received a beautiful bouquet of flowers,” she said. “Let me read the card to you. ‘To Ed Dobson, Pastor of the Year.'” The flowers had been sent by a couple who had been separated for nearly two years. Through the church’s ministry, they had been won to Christ and had decided to be reconciled. I had conducted their marriage renewal service.

The bouquet was a dramatic reminder that I should never let church politics or conflicts obscure my vision of the bigger things God may be doing.

2. It’s never as good as you think it is. There are times in church ministry when everything seems to be going marvelously. That’s when you need to be careful. As Jerry Falwell used to say, “In ministry I’ve never had two good days back to back.”

3. It’s never completely fixed. Ministry is a process; it’s people. To say, “I’ve taken care of this problem; it won’t recur,” is foolish.

4. It’s never completely broken. Not long ago, a pastor from Kenya spoke in our morning worship service. He pointed out that during the first thirty years of missionary efforts in Kenya, more missionaries died than the number of converts who were won. In the remote inland regions of the country, missionaries sometimes arrived with their belongings stored in coffins. They were resigned to the fact they would never make it back to the coast.

In spite of the difficulties, these men and women were called to reach Kenya, so they kept at it, knowing someday their work would bear fruit. They were right. Thanks to their efforts, today 82 percent of Kenya is at least nominally Christian. Evangelicals alone number nearly nine million. No matter what it looks like, God’s work has not stopped.

Criticism management

When I was younger, during times of criticism, I used my call as a baseball bat to confront my critics. Part of that was because of my training. It had been drilled into me during college that regardless of the cost, you have to take a stand. If the whole world is against you, take a stand. So during my first pastorate, I interpreted that to mean I should stand up to my critics.

When I encountered conflict in board meetings, I would bring up the issue in my sermon the next Sunday. “God called me to start this church,” I would remind the congregation. “If you don’t like it, there are a number of other churches in this town you can attend.” I declared the authority of the pastor and expected that to end the issue.

That was stupid. While we ought to stand for what we believe, Paul says we are to teach and admonish others in a spirit of patience and gentleness. Many pastors run aground in ministry not because they lack a legitimate call. Rather it’s because they haven’t been adequately prepared to work with people. They may have been trained to handle the Greek and Hebrew texts, but they aren’t equipped to deal with imperfect people in an imperfect world. Sometimes, opposition isn’t a sign you don’t belong in the ministry, it’s simply part of the call to “Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me.”

Today, I try to accept criticism as part of the package. Paul was realistic in his description of the ministry: “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed” (2 Cor. 4:8-9 niv).

The ministry is sometimes pressure, discouragement, disappointment, heartache, criticism, and conflict. I try to communicate that to all who are considering the job. If they don’t believe me, I just show them my mail.

Also, when criticism comes now, I try not to believe everything I hear. Recently a woman shook my hand after one service and said, “Good grief, Pastor! Your hand is soft. I bet you haven’t seen a good day’s work in your entire life.”

She grinned and walked off. She obviously didn’t know how such a statement can hit pastors. I just stood there thinking to myself, Thank you very much. Good day to you as well!

A lot of criticism is based on ignorance or misconceptions. When it’s appropriate, I try to educate people. But when it’s not, I find it best just to forget the comment.

When I encounter opposition, I ask, Is God trying to show me something in this? Is this a process of character development in my life? I may pray, “This is what they’ve said about me, Lord. Is it true? Help me to be honest with myself and determine what truth, if any, lies behind their comment.”

I will actually read to God the letters critical of me. Sometimes I discover God is trying to say something to me. Other times, he reassures me that I’m on the right track and not to become discouraged.

New direction indicators

Sometimes when we’re doubting the call, we’re merely doubting the call to a specific ministry. And sometimes the doubt is justified: God wants us to move on.

How we know that, of course, is no simple process. I listen to my journal. For years I’ve taken time to write out, several times a week, what I’m learning from my study of Scripture, my circumstances, and my ministry experiences.

As I was considering Calvary Church in Grand Rapids, I was also contacted by a church in New York City. New York looked attractive; I would be downtown in the midst of several million unchurched people. During that period, I spent a lot of time reviewing my journals. I noticed entries like, “I’m going to delay Grand Rapids. New York is really where I want to go. Logically, it seems the right place.” Then I’d go home that night and get a call from the board chairman in Grand Rapids, inviting me to fly in the next day. Being caught off guard, I would say, “Okay. I think I can do that.”

In fact, I noticed that every time I decided to close a door to Grand Rapids, something unusual would open it wider. At the same time, the church in New York would ask me to jump through one more hoop: get another reference, send another sermon, whatever. As I reviewed my journal, the pattern became obvious, and eventually I followed God’s leading to Grand Rapids.

In addition, I think it’s appropriate to “lay out the fleece,” not to test God but to assure myself that, in fact, God is leading. For example, before coming to Grand Rapids, I decided I needed to have 95 percent of the congregational vote if I were to come. “We don’t vote unanimously for anything,” a board member had warned me. Nonetheless, that was the percentage I needed to feel secure in accepting the call.

I ended up with unanimous calls from the committee and the board and a 99.7-percent vote from the congregation. I’ve never seen that happen again in this church, even when we have voted on mission candidates or on ordaining someone to the ministry. That helped me move forward with confidence and face conflict that would surely come.

I’ve also begun praying with my wife about such decisions. That’s not the way the previous generation often went about it. My father believed God speaks to the “priest” of the family (the man), and he leads with or without the spouse’s consent. At the beginning of our life together, Lorna and I agreed that wherever God called me, we would go together. I have felt it important, though, to bring her more and more into the decision-making process. When the moment of truth arrived regarding Grand Rapids, she said, “Ed, there’s no need even to pray any further about this. Calvary Church is where you belong.”

Finally, sometimes we just have to go out on faith, and if we’ve misread God’s will, then that too can lead us to the real calling he has for us. When I started in ministry, I believed God had called me to be heir apparent to Billy Graham. I honestly believed I was going to one day take over for him, so right out of college, I set up the Eddy Dobson Evangelistic Association. My wife and I sent out hundreds of letters advertising our availability. If I could summarize the general response, it was, “Paul we know. Jesus we know. But who are you?”

The end result was that we moved into a one-bedroom apartment, and I took a job digging graves. My wife went to work for a temporary employment agency. I was severely disillusioned by the response to what I perceived to be my call. But this turn of events eventually led to my being offered a position at Liberty College working with Jerry Falwell, and that, in turn, led to my becoming the pastor of a small, mountain church in West Virginia, my first full-time pastoral experience.

We need others to help us hear God’s leading. At any given time, sitting in our congregation are a half-dozen pastors recovering from burnout. Ministry has temporarily overwhelmed them. I encourage hurting and tired pastors to find renewal inside a church. Seek out the leaders of a church, admit your need, and ask to come under the church’s care. After a period of healing and renewal, you will be able to draw on this group’s affirmation that you’re spiritually and emotionally ready to reenter pastoral ministry.

Prevention medicine

Pastors sometimes feel frustrated in their calling because they’re waiting for someone to help them. They honestly believe the board will one day approach them and say, “Pastor, you need to take some time off with your family for personal and spiritual renewal.” It won’t happen.

Fortunately, I was given this blunt but lifesaving advice when I arrived in Grand Rapids. Our city has a strong Dutch community, so my first year a board member met with me weekly to help me understand the Dutch people and the culture of our church.

“One thing you need to know,” he said, “is that we will sit in board meetings and discuss the tremendous pressures you face, how hard you work, how you are away from your family too much, how you need to slow down, and how important it is for you to take regular days off and get away for your full vacation each year. Then we’ll go home saying to ourselves, ‘My, aren’t we taking wonderful care of Ed Dobson!'”

Then he leaned forward and said, “The truth is, Pastor, despite our pious lectures and good intentions, we won’t stop you from overworking. We will cheer you right into your grave. We will bury you and then get someone else to replace you, just as we always have.”

He was not being cynical. He was simply warning me that if I didn’t take care of my physical, spiritual, and emotional health, no one else would. I was struck by an interview with Billy Graham in which he said if he had it to do all over again, he would travel less, study more, and spend more time with his family.

I need to watch proper exercise and diet. I run between three and seven miles a day, and that leaves me refreshed for preaching or teaching, particularly midweek when my energy can lapse. Further, I know I need seven or eight hours of sleep each night to function well. When I traveled with Jerry Falwell, I noticed he rarely needed more than three or four hours of sleep a night. Though he did all the interviews and speaking, I came back from those road trips dead tired. If I tried to keep that same schedule, I’d get sick.

I also watch my emotional gauges. I work hard to keep from having one emotionally draining situation after another. Sometimes I plan golf games between stressful meetings. I also accept the fact that on Mondays I’m drained from the day before, so I don’t accept any appointments other than lunch. I read and avoid seeing people or dealing with tough issues. It’s a day I use to study and begin preparations for the next Sunday.

Part of guarding my call also means I try to operate primarily in the realm of my giftedness. My limitations are in counseling and administration. As much as my board would love to see me be more assertive in administrative matters, I’ve told them, “If you want to make me miserable, make me an administrator.” They understand my limitations.

Billy Graham said not long ago that he believes he did the one thing God called him to do—preach the gospel. My hope is that forty years from now I can look back and say the same thing.