If It’s Broken, Don’t Fix It!

The anniversary of my ordination came and went this year without me noticing. I have never treated it in a special way and only once did a congregation do anything special for it. Last year, a small group in the congregation gave me a gift to commemorate it. I received a “stole” which is the garment worn by a priest who is presiding over a sacramental service. I only wore it once because it is blue on one side for Advent and the other side is white for Christmas or Easter. But since it also has a manger on it as well, Easter seemed to be a stretch for its use.

I find it rather emblematic that any congregation that I led failed to recognize ordination anniversaries. While an ordination is very special to the one being ordained, I am not sure it is for others. Or maybe most people do not realize its uniqueness. I am not complaining, especially since it was easy for me to forget the actual date, but I do not forget the day of my ordination. Nor have I lost focus on all that came after: the eucharists, baptisms, funerals, weddings and so on. After nearly 27 years, some of the names have been forgotten but I remember the joy and sadness, the excitement and pain of so many events that I either led or participated in because of my ordination.

Now that I am virtually on the outside looking in, I believe I have a unique picture of the church. I now sit in the pew (or chair since the church where I worship doesn’t have pews) and even though the pastor often asks for verbal feedback in his sermons (brave guy) I just sit silently. I am not critical of what I hear or see, though sometimes I will correct something quietly but I only share that with Julie. Instead of being critical, I am curious. I sit in a chair in the crowd watching others. I watch the Pastor worship. I watch the Pastor’s wife scurrying around and pausing to worship with her husband. I have watched the Pastor’s son and wondered if he feels like my children felt. I watch others worship, take communion, sing and sit to listen to the sermon. I never had the opportunity to watch others when I led worship. There was always the next thing. A prayer. A song. The sermon. But now as I watch and reflect, I enjoy a fresh look at many things I often simply ignored.

I do not believe there is a more important work to do than that of a pastor. Maybe you think I am just buttering my own bread, but I cannot think of other work than is as instrumental in changing people’s lives. A pastor’s work is heart work. Every week the pastor prays that people will show up, that he or she will have a word from God that will encourage, challenge, comfort or equip those that do. I have seen people who have nearly given up on life come alive. I have seen hard hearts turn soft. I have seen marriages healed and relationships restored. Where else can one find such fundamentally important work?

But there is other heart work that happens. It’s in the pastor’s heart. The pastor is often lifted high and brought low by that which goes on around him/her. The excitement of welcoming new people into the congregation, the joy of baptism, the solemnity of presiding at the eucharist can bring indescribable joy. Yet there is the other side of it all. The complaints and murmurs that are regularly heard no matter what is going on or where one serves can literally drop a pastor to his or her knees, not just in prayer. The loss of members who either have their head turned by a prettier church or simply leave because of a disagreement or some sort of discontent takes a heavy toll on any pastor, no matter how well defended that pastor may be. Being a pastor is extremely rewarding but often the reward is found only in the pastor’s heart or perhaps shared with a spouse. Those who sit and watch and listen have no idea how difficult it can be to handle the disappointment and not become disillusioned or defeated.

It does not have to be this way. Opening an email does not have to crush a pastor. Returning a phone call does not have to be full of dread. Complaints and murmurs do not have to be the regular fare of a congregation. A church culture can be life-giving even to pastors. But if a change is to take place, it much be sought after intentionally and it must be sought after by the leaders of the congregation.

Often leaders in a congregation look at the community they are serving as “broken.” Their job is to fix it. So they roll up their sleeves and start looking for anything that squeaks or is leaking oil or that does not work as well as it once did. Of course, this often begins with the pastor. Is it the sermon? Are they boring or too long or too short or not deep enough or too deep? How about the way the pastor leads the staff, or the board, or Bible study? The list is long and the task of fixing all of that which is broken impossible. All of this lands on the pastor’s desk. Sometimes the list gets smaller then something happens and it grows again. The very people that should make sure that the pastor feels as if he or she is appreciated and loved, are the very ones that make it nearly impossible to feel that way.

But there is hope. I do not advocate some sort of fake it until you make it culture in a congregation. Nor do I believe it can ever be perfect. I do believe that some families function at a higher level than others. I believe that to be true of congregations as well. Just like families, some congregations deal with conflict in an open and transparent way. These congregations don’t look around to find what is broken. Instead they look around to see what is working well. They do more celebrating than complaining. People may leave the church but when it happens it is not seen as a grade card to how the church is doing. In fact they may even celebrate when it happens since the departing person/family may just not be a good fit to who the congregation is.

A couple of weeks ago I sat and watched the pastor at church. I watched someone come to the microphone and speak about how much the pastor meant to him personally and to the congregation. I watched as several gift certificates were given to the pastor and his family. I saw the look on the pastor’s face that seemed to say “thank you for sharing the burden of leading in the church with me and for not asking me to fix everything.” I sat and watched and thought about how difficult being a pastor is but how that burden does not have to be carried alone.

Until next time,

DP