A friend read me a letter his pastor had written to his church. The pastor chastised the congregation for their lack of commitment, poor attendance at services, and a general lack of support for programs.
While my friend read, my mind drifted to the lists I used to keep and the letters I used to write.
The lists would mark the attendance of the elders and deacons at church services. During the service I would make mental note of who was there and then afterward make my way to my office to record the data. I was gathering evidence to build a case, evidence to prove their lack of commitment to the church, evidence to justify my anger.
In an all-encompassing letter, I once criticized the entire board because of their lack of support for a church missions conference. I pointed out that less than 40 percent of the board even attended the meetings-less than the percentage of our regular people who attended!
“How can we possibly expect others to get excited about missions,” I wrote angrily, “when many of the church leaders don’t attend?”
The letter my friend was reading sounded like an echo of my own.
Now, ten years into the ministry, commitment is still on my mind. It’s an important trait Christians need to develop. But my approach has changed. I don’t keep lists or write angry letters anymore. Why? Let me describe what I began to see.
A cloudy vision
I began to see that I couldn’t see too far. I discovered two issues were clouding my thinking about my people’s commitment.
The first was the mentality, “If I have to be here all the time, so should you.”
More times than I’d care to admit, I was discontented because no one else in the church had to attend all the services. But as pastor, I had to.
I realized I was becoming a Martha.
Martha, sister to Mary and Lazarus, personified servanthood. But it wasn’t the kind of servanthood Jesus commended. A fascinating phrase in Luke’s gospel describes her state of mind as she served: “Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made.”
Her duties had become such a burden that they drew her attention away from what was most important: the Savior.
Martha and I both resented others who weren’t as harried as we were.
I realized my having to be at every service, my preoccupation with church business, was distracting me from what is most important. It was leading me to resent others, to pressure them to become as busy as I was, and, like Martha, even to question God’s care for me.
I am what I produce
A second factor clouding my vision was measuring my relationship to God by the wrong scale.
At a banquet I was seated alongside several people from area congregations who were making the typical comparisons between churches. One person commented on how obvious it was that God was blessing a certain ministry because of its rapid growth and large size.
I immediately thought, Maybe God isn’t blessing our church because we don’t have that growth or size. From there my thoughts became more personal: Maybe the lack of growth is because of me. I guess I’m not a very good pastor or even a very good person.
I had succumbed to the common but cloudy view that I am what I produce. Rather than defining myself by my relationship to Christ, I define it by my job as a pastor.
Maybe that’s why we so often ask our colleagues in ministry, “How big is your congregation?” or “How many staff do you have?” We tend to measure our effectiveness by what we produce.
Questions about our effectiveness aren’t wrong. But when we allow our jobs to completely define who we are, when we focus on our production levels rather than our joy or our proximity to the Savior, we risk losing our focus-in our personal lives as well as our ministry.
Homemade legalism
The other day I listened to a sermon I preached nine years ago. (Okay, I admit it was a slow day.) I found myself sympathizing for the people who had to endure it. In a quadraphonic monotone, I rambled through the sermon, stumbling from one thought to the next with little intention or passion.
I kept telling people they needed to be more committed, but I didn’t offer them anything worth being committed to. The whole experience brought new meaning to Paul’s words, “Forgetting what lies behind.”
I think I’ve improved since then (for which my congregation would say a hearty “Amen!”). Just as important, not only is my preaching changing, so is my attitude towards those I once considered uncommitted.
A deacon recently mentioned to me he would be missing church on Sunday. His neighbor, with whom he wanted to develop a relationship and hoped, in time, to share the gospel, had asked him to play golf, and he had accepted.
Once my envy at not being able to join them passed, I was able to say, “Have a great time.” That’s a long way from the pastor who formerly would have recorded such uncommitted behavior on his list!
Today when people don’t respond to a program or service, I’m more likely to ask, “Is this something worth coming to?” or “If I wasn’t the pastor, would I be here?” I’m trying to see the issues through their eyes.
I abhor legalism, yet when I reduce commitment to measurable criteria that I produce, I’m guilty of legalism. I’ve come to the painful realization that some who love the Lord and their church may not attend every event on the church calendar.
But even as I write, this pill is still difficult to swallow.
What does God want?
I now realize that the commitment I used to seek from others was a commitment to me, not necessarily a commitment to God. I had been asking for commitments that made me feel better about who I was.
Now, when I feel the urge to keep lists and take names, I ask myself three questions:
1. Why am I questioning these people’s commitment?
2. How much of my identity is wrapped up in the issue?
3. Am I promoting a commitment that attracts people to the Lord or one that furthers my reputation?
I have the opportunity to set a tone in my congregation that moves people closer to the Lord. If I’m willing to risk my own agenda to promote his, I model authentic commitment.
– Jim Kallam, Jr.
Church at Charlotte
Charlotte, North Carolina
126 SUMMER/93
Copyright © 1993 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.
