After my first year of seminary, my denomination arranged for me to spend the summer as pastor of a rural congregation in Iowa. I was thrilled.
I moved into the parsonage with all my worldly goods on a Monday. On Tuesday I got up bright and early, showered and shaved, put on a dress shirt and a necktie, ate a good breakfast, and had my morning devotions. Then I sat down at the kitchen table, which would serve as my desk for the summer, prepared to start my first day of work.
Then the terrible truth hit me: I had no idea what to do that day. As a matter of fact, I had little idea of what I would do all summer! Oh, I knew that I would be preaching and leading worship every Sunday and visiting the sick and shut-in. But beyond that I had no plan, no agenda for my ministry in that congregation.
I walked around for some weeks hoping to encounter a burning bush on the edge of an Iowa cornfield. Oh, for a Divine Voice that would dictate The Plan. But the bushes of Iowa were not burning that summer.
The people of the congregation were patient with me. We got through the summer, though I still wish I had known better what to do. That experience taught me a pastor needs a clear agenda to have an effective ministry. To be both fulfilling and productive, ministry must be intentional. The pastor must know what is most important and be able to articulate that agenda for himself and for the congregation.
Where does that agenda come from? We would all like to think that it comes directly from the Lord of the Church. My experience, however, is that God seldom dictates specific instructions about what I should do.
As a pastor, as a student of the Bible, I can, however, base my ministry on biblical models rather than worldly concepts.
Business images of a pastoral CEO somehow fall short of God’s design. It is his Word that helps me see that. The Scriptures shape my understanding of the church and lay the groundwork for my ministry agenda.
But beyond seeing myself in biblical images, after twenty-some years of serving as a parish pastor, I have concluded that there are at least four other factors that coalesce to etermine the pastor’s agenda. I have to hold all four in balance although, from time to time, one might need special attention.
Personal Gifts
After I was ordained, my first call was as an assistant pastor in a downtown church. From the beginning I knew my primary responsibility would be to build up the youth ministry. I had reservations about that, but I needed a call, so I took it.
I gave it my best shot, but I was a miserable failure. I simply do not have a gift for ministry with youth. (I was young once myself, but I wasn’t good at it.) Other aspects of my ministry there went well. Youth ministry did not. And, since that was the number one item on the agenda for the assistant pastor in that congregation, my ministry there was not very successful.
When I went to my second call, there were vocal people interested in moving toward “high” liturgy. Now, as a Lutheran I am a lover of liturgy. But music has never been my long suit. I am essentially tone deaf. Trying to satisfy the high liturgy contingent, however, I agreed to try chanting the liturgy. Our minister of music worked with me patiently. I practiced diligently. Finally the big day arrived.
It sounded awful. I knew it, and the congregation knew it.
It was a terrible Sunday. It was also the last Sunday I ever tried to chant the liturgy. I’m not a singer, and I never will be.
I’m not great with youth. I am not musically inclined. I am not an exceptionally patient counselor. Those are not my gifts. If I let those things I do poorly become the heart of my agenda, I am going to be unhappy, and the congregation is going to suffer.
However, there are some things I do well. That’s not just my opinion—that’s the feedback I have received from others throughout my ministry. I’m a good preacher. I’m a good administrator. I can teach adults. I work well with groups.
Those are my gifts, and those are the things I enjoy doing.
So as I set the agenda in more recent pastorates, I accent my own gifts—the things I do well. That does not mean I do nothing in areas where I am less gifted, but it does mean they are not high priorities on my agenda . . . usually.
Some of the following factors may mean I have to do things I don’t particularly relish.
Congregational Factors
When I came to the church I now serve, congregational morale was in the pits. My predecessor had departed under pressure, a victim of heart troubles during a major building program.
The new building was up, but finances were in terrible shape. The congregation was sharply divided over the treatment given to my predecessor—loyal fans and vocal detractors loved to dig at one another. Beyond that, a militant faction at odds with the positions of the Lutheran church kept theological issues stirred up.
The turmoil dictated the agenda for the first few years. If this congregation was to move forward, the ship had to be stabilized. I had to spend a lot of time listening tounhappy people, helping them work through their feelings of anger and grief. I worked diligently with the church council and the finance and stewardship committees, insisting on frugality until we got out of the red. In the pulpit I sought to articulate in a clear, winsome way the historic posture of the Lutheran church.
Those were difficult years, but eventually the ship stabilized, the financial reports no longer were printed in red ink, and those not at home with Lutheran theology found their way to more compatible congregations.
During that time, I was able to use my gifts for preaching, administration, and communication to address the highest priorities of the congregation. But I also had to use my listening, counseling, and conflict-managing skills, which I would not have placed quite so high on my agenda.
Our congregation has experienced rapid growth, not because of my brilliance but because of the rapid growth of the area. Now we need to enlarge our facilities again to allow adequate space for the programs of the church. We are moving into a building project.
To tell the truth, I am not thrilled. I feel about church construction the way I feel about cliff diving: it’s fun to watch other people do it, but I’ve never had a consuming desire to do it myself. I am not “handy” in any respect, and consider the entire construction process tedious.
It is clear to me, however, that we need to build. And it would be unfair to the congregation if I did not marshal my limited administrative abilities to move this project along.
Right now this congregational factor is more important than my own gifts and interests in setting my agenda. People tell me that when the project is done, I will feel proud and fulfilled. We’ll see. But as that sign at construction sites puts it, “Build we must!”
Social Factors
The congregation does not exist in a vacuum. Sometimes the world around us cries out for our attention, and, whether we want to or not, we must make it a priority.
I began serving my first parish as assistant pastor in the summer of 1967. After giving me a few weeks of orientation, the senior pastor went on vacation. During his absences rioting broke out in our city. Armed National Guardsmen patrolled the area around the church. I was just getting adjusted and certainly had not anticipated leading the congregation to respond to urban crisis. But suddenly there was no choice—the world was setting our agenda.
It was a time to minister to both congregation and community. The congregation, mostly senior citizens and suburbanites, needed help to understand what was happening.
In personal conversations and from the pulpit, I tried to give them perspective. The needs of the city, brought into focus by the rioting, caused me to draw the leaders of the congregation into a new dialogue with our urban neighbors.
This led to more focus on community ministry.
Later, in another congregation, our town was struck by the first tornado ever to touch down in the state of Connecticut. Our neighborhood was untouched, but the community was traumatized. For weeks thereafter, helping people deal with the tornado was the most important thing for us to do.
With the other pastors of the community, I walked the streets of the damaged neighborhoods, bringing pastoral care and concern to those whose homes had been destroyed. We also ministered at the disaster center set up by the governmental agencies. The congregation helped rally volunteers for clean-up. On the Sunday following the tornado, the churches of the community banded together for a service of prayer and thanksgiving. The tornado caused greater cooperation between local clergy and churches than ever.
When times like these come along, the whole agenda question gets considerably easier.
Ecclesiastical Factors
Those of us who are part of a denominational system cannot in good conscience totally ignore what comes from “the home office.” We have to keep our eyes peeled for denominational programs that can benefit the congregation.
My own denomination, for example, is in the midst of a ten-year emphasis called MISSION90, which places major stress on adult Christian education, Bible study, stewardship, and service to the world. Since my congregation is entering a building program, I believe it is particularly important for us to take advantage of the MISSION90 resources. Used properly, they will keep us from the kind of self-centeredness that is such a danger to congregations involved in new construction. Therefore, the promotion of MISSION90 is high on my agenda these days.
Penciled in Stone
These four elements—personal gifts, congregational factors, social factors, and ecclesiastical factors—undergirded by our biblical understandings of ministry, converge in setting the agenda for the pastor. The agenda, however, should be written in pencil, not carved in stone.
While our biblical concepts of ministry may be stable and our personal gifts enduring, the congregational factors, social factors, and ecclesiastical factors will be changing constantly. As pastors, we need to be alert to those changes, discerning what is happening around us.
We also need to be in dialogue with others—fellow staff workers, church council members, lay leaders, our families—about their perceptions of what is happening. Out of such dialogue we can sharpen our own vision and set our own agenda.
Ultimately, the pastor must set his or her own agenda. The agenda can then be shared with lay leaders and ecclesiastical authorities, but if the pastor is going to be both satisfied and effective, the agenda must be his or her own.
In my daydreams, I sometimes imagine myself going back to that rural Iowa congregation where I first got my feet wet in ministry. I did not have an agenda for my ministry there, and as a result, not much happened. If I were to go back now, it would be with a definite plan in mind. Perhaps something more would happen, and I could repay them in some small measure for their patience with me.
Copyright © 1991 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.
