The Same Kind of Week We’ve Had
For my pastor
When it’s his turn to lead the worship service, my friend – the “minister of announcements” you could call him — might start things out by telling the story of the game warden who went fishing with the pastor. The pastor pulled out a stick of dynamite . . .
Stop me if you’ve heard this one.
And then maybe he’ll send us all off for the most raucous, neck-hugging, back-slapping, hand-clasping, people-loving, takes-another -five-minutes-to-corral-folks-back-in-their-seats church greeting time in all of the Midwest.
But before he’s done telling us of the activities in the days ahead, he always — always – reminds us of one thing: to pray through the week for our pastor.
Look at the front of your bulletin, he’ll tell us. There’s something you can pray every single day. This is so, so important.
::
During our adult Bible class on Sunday morning, I remembered reading this. I remembered writing in the margin. I remembered wondering why we think it’s any different for him. And I tried to remember well enough to quote Peterson’s text from memory.
I did a pretty terrible job, but I think folks got it.
I dug it back out this morning. Because as my friend would say, This is so, so important.
Eugene Peterson reminds us of the importance of gathering with the family for worship.
Together.
In worship we are part of “the large congregation” where all the writers of Scripture address us, where hymn writers use music to express truths that touch us not only in our heads but in our hearts, where the preacher who has just lived through six days of doubt, hurt, faith and blessing with the worshipers speaks the truth of Scripture in the language of the congregation’s present experience. (A Long Obedience in the Same Direction, p. 55, emphasis added)
In so doing, he reminds me of this important truth: our pastors hold a special place in our faith families. But that hardly exempts them from life as we know it.
When they stand up in front of us on Sunday morning, this is also true: they’ve had the same kind of week we have.
Some weeks probably worse. Others maybe better.
But he or she has had the the same kind of week nonetheless — full of all the same things that mark our humanity and declare our eternity.
Together.
This is so, so important.
::
Photo, top: Help, by Ove Tøpfer; Bottom: my marked page from A Long Obedience in the Same Direction by Eugene Peterson
One of the dearest people in my life, regrettably for me personally and for my ministry, has been gone for nearly 20 years. She was one of the first people I meant when I came to the Church 42 years ago, and her home soon quite literally became a refuge for me, when the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune began to visit the “young whippersnapper” preacher. I wasn’t always the lovable fuzzy I have now become. On second thought, I was “fuzzier” then but not so lovable. Anyway, she once told me a wonderful thing that explained her extraordinary view of ministry and ministers. She said, “getting a new minister is like having a new baby, you don’t always know what you are going to get, but you know you are going to love him!” She actually made up her mind that she loved me before I even moved in, or uttered a word, or delivered a sermon, or established a worship program, a growth plan, mission budget or most important of all which faction with which to align myself. And she meant it every word, from day one until the day she died. The last word she said to me were words I heard her say as I walked away from her hospital room already in the hall, “I love you” Pray for your minister, and pray about your minister and pray with your minister, and above all love your minister.You will be surprised how lovable and lovely people become when they are loved.Actually ministers who are loved by their congregation, usually have fewer reasons to need our prayers!
2011/02/10 at 11:08 AM
Dave, while I was thinking of my own pastor when I read Peterson’s words, and wrote mine, I was also thinking of you and a few others who bear the title “pastor” and stop by here now and again. I’m grateful for the way you guys get up week after whatever kind of week, to proclaim gospel amongst your people. And that includes all the non-Sunday morning things that we don’t see. It’s a mistake for us to think you all glide through it without facing the same doubts and hurt and discouragement — as well as the same joys and blessings — that the rest of us do. Loving you, praying for you, honoring you and your work is one of the most important things we’ll do in your congregations.
2011/02/10 at 2:22 PM
My current pastor is the only one I’ve ever seen as a real person. Sure, I had pastors in my family, but they were “family,” so they were different. But now that I see my own pastor differently, I pray for him differently, think of him as I do my other sisters and brothers in Christ. I think the same could be applied to any person in leadership in the church–we forget that they don’t have it all together, either. This Sunday School teacher definitely doesn’t.
2011/02/10 at 5:09 PM
That’s so much of it right there, Jennifer. Seeing them as real people. Why is it so easy to forget that?
2011/02/10 at 9:02 PM
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Some time ago one of the elderly ladies of our church family passed away. When speaking of her, our Pastor’s eyes filled with tears. Then he told us that she prayed for him every day and with her passing he felt the loss of that. Then he asked that others step into that place of intercession for him.
This is so true Lyla. They most definitely need our prayers (as do their families).
2011/02/10 at 8:46 PM
Linda, yes. Their families too.
They know when they’ve got folks in their corner, standing in the gap for them. Don’t know how they’d get through without that.
2011/02/10 at 9:03 PM
Oh my. This takes my breath away. I am married to one of those preachers who lives the same weeks as the rest of us.
I am breathless with gratitude for this…
2011/02/12 at 12:31 AM
You know. Oh, you know.
2011/02/12 at 12:44 AM
What an excellent reminder … sometimes we expect more from our pastors than is humanly possible.
2011/02/12 at 4:10 PM
This is a timely piece for us here in rural Lyon County. Just yesterday, we installed our new pastor. Your words here are confirmation of the key message that was delivered to us during the installation service.
Our. Pastor. Is. Human.
Thanks for this, Lyla.
2011/02/14 at 2:38 PM
Please forgive my twisted sense of humor. As a Minister, I can’t help but ponder with amusement the terms “installed our new pastor” Maybe because we just had a plumber here to install a new water heater. The old one leaked!
Headline: St Someones Church on Sunday Installed a new Pastor. The old one was getting rusty and inefficient. The new one has a higher energy rating and takes up less space. Church members are hoping that the new one with good care and maintenance will last longer than the old one. Church Council Chairman I M Decahn said “we chose the electric model over the gas. We wouldn’t know what to do if our Church actually caught fire!”
Having been in the same church for 42 years, I’m afraid the only reason they keep me on is that they lost the original Installation Instructions.
Now you know why they call me Uncle Weird.
2011/02/15 at 12:32 PM
Forty-two years? Forty-two?
Golly, David. I feel like I want to puff you up over that. But it’s not really our way…
Even so, I have to admit that’s amazing. Coming from a church that feels like it’s had that many pastors in far fewer years, I can’t even get my mind around it.
2011/02/15 at 11:46 PM
First couple of years, awful. I wanted to leave, they wanted me to leave. Didn’t happen, couldn’t afford to move! I don’t even know all of what happened after that, but somehow, someway we learned to love each other. If every church treated their minister and loved him or her like mine treats and loves me, our churches would be so much stronger, we would lose far fewer ministers, and best of all we would project an image to the community and to the world that mirrors the message we preach! And you know how hard it is to love me! Can a whole church be named a Saint?
2011/02/19 at 11:00 PM
This makes me cry. My husband is a pastor. Church has sometimes felt more like a community of judgment than of love for us. Several months ago we came to a new congregation and these people seem to realize that our life is just like theirs. I feel much more at ease here.
Listening to my husband’s sermons is hard sometimes because they often carry memories of dark times in our life. Thank you for recognizing that.
mp
2011/02/16 at 1:30 PM
The new Catholic school in our area has a married priest, and suddenly he seems more approachable, more real. I would guess he gets more prayers than the others at our church. Isn’t that strange?
I remember as a young girl my father trying on the minister’s life, spending Sunday afternoons solemn and guilt ridden, thinking he’d let everyone down by delivering his messages, the Word of God, while hung over from the the night before. I’ve always lived in this cloud of the judgement, the line between being hypocritical and authentic.
Human.
2011/02/18 at 2:28 PM
I’m fascinated now, by both those thoughts Deb.
But I wonder how often the average pastor spends his Sunday afternoon the same way, perhaps motivated by a different night before or week before or month before. Regrets, self-condemnation, never being quite what they think they should be up behind the big block of wood.
Human indeed. I don’t need the pulpit to get me all messed up on that line between.
2011/02/18 at 7:07 PM