The gift of great value

There was a man who lived in great poverty.

Every morning he woke up, put on the same frayed shirt, the same tattered pants, and the same worn-out sneakers. And he went to the corner and begged.

Every evening he came back to his apartment with just enough for another day. Enough to pay the next rent due. Enough for a sandwich at lunch and a meager dinner.

Every night he went to bed tired and weary, but ready to begin again the next morning.

Then one day a gentleman in a suit and a hat and a nicely trimmed mustache approached the man on the corner. And the gentleman said to the man, “I want to give you a gift. A great gift. One that will rid you of these frayed and tattered clothes and allow you to leave this street corner and this life of begging. A gift of great value that will change your life forever after.” And the gentleman handed the man a cashier’s check. “This check is worth $50 million,” said the gentleman. “Get up from your life of poverty and lay hold of great riches.” And with that, the gentleman walked away.

The man on the corner sprung up in celebration. Tears of joy ran down his face. He who had been so poor had been given a gift of great value. That night he went to bed content and overjoyed. He was rich.

The next morning he woke up, put on the same frayed shirt, the same tattered pants, and the same worn-out sneakers. And he went to the corner and begged.

That evening he came back to his apartment with just enough for another day. Enough to pay the next rent due. Enough for a sandwich at lunch and a meager dinner.

That night he went to bed tired and weary. But he looked at the check lying under his mattress and reminded himself that he was rich. And he smiled. He was ready to begin again the next morning.

So it is with those who accept God’s grace for forgiveness but continue in unrighteousness.

Why part-time local pastor?

I’ve been surprised by the number of messages I’ve received from people asking why I’m a local pastor — and why part-time. They want to know why I’m not pursuing ordination as an elder in the United Methodist Church. Or if not elder, why I wouldn’t be ordained as a deacon.

For me, making the decision to stop the process at licensed local pastor was a very intentional, theological, values-laden decision. Especially for those who are trying to discern their own place in this system, I’ll share some of my reasoning.

Why local pastor?

When Paul writes to Titus about appointing elders (presbuteroi — note that it’s plural) in every town, and when Paul and Barnabas appoint elders in each church, I suspect that those elders they appoint are existing members of those communities. What are the apostles doing, then? It appears that they are recognizing some of the people in those communities for their gifts and their calling to leadership within the community. Then they’re appointing leaders from within them.

I’m in a unique situation. The church I serve is the church I grew up in. That’s not really a coincidence so much as it’s an intentional decision. I’d go so far as to call it a very particular calling. As a lifelong member of First UMC Lexington, so much of my own understanding of ministry and calling has been to lead within my community. Not as a professional outsider, but as someone who might be similar to those presbuteroi whom Paul and Barnabas appointed.

Because of this understanding of calling and ministry, I haven’t been able to pursue ordination with integrity. Itineracy is at the heart of elders’ orders in the UMC’s current practice. For anyone who becomes an elder, it’s emphasized that they’re taking a vow to go wherever their bishop sends them.

I can’t vow with integrity to go where the bishop sends.

If the bishop came to me tomorrow and said, “I’m sending you to Owensboro,” I don’t think I would go. Yes, I’d pray about it. But that kind of role — going as an outsider to serve as a temporary chaplain — while it may be appropriate for many, just doesn’t fit my understood calling or function in ministry. Moreover, it doesn’t fit our family’s values.

Now I’ve heard more than a few dozen times that itineracy is a “consultative process.” As in, the bishop wouldn’t just call me tomorrow and tell me I’m going to Owensboro. There would be several conversations — with me, with the church where I am now, with the church in Owensboro. And I’ve seen that in action. I believe that’s (mostly) true. But at the end of the day, it’s still the decision of the bishop. And if I say no, it’s me who broke my vow. I can’t deal with that kind of breach of integrity. The truth is, even with a consultative process, I’m just not sure I can vow to go where a bishop sends me.

My District Superintendent was quick to remind me that local pastors are still appointed and can be moved, too. My response: “But if I choose not to accept that move, I won’t have broken my vow.”

The question that follows: “Is this an issue of submission? You’re unwilling to submit to the bishop?”

No, that’s really not it. I do submit to my bishop. But my submission is about whether or not I’m allowed to lead my community. My bishop can come at any point and remove me from my position. I know that. And I submit to that. I’ve been reminded by several people that one of the downsides to being a licensed local pastor is that you can have your appointment removed at any time.

So in a peculiar way, I see my submission to the bishop as opposite that of ordained elders. An ordained elder with guaranteed appointment submits to where (s)he will serve, but not whether (s)he will serve. My submission is more similar to what I think was happening in those communities where Titus and Paul and Barnabas appointed elders. I don’t think Paul would have ever gone into Ephesus and told one of its elders to go be an elder in Corinth. But he may have gone in and removed an elder. So I’m submitting not to where, but to whether I will be an authorized pastor in my community.

And the one other question that I hear: “Why not be ordained as a deacon? Deacons don’t itinerate.”

No, they don’t, but their ordination is also quite different. Deacons are ordained to word, service, compassion, and justice. Elders are ordained to word, sacrament, and order. I understand the latter to be my primary calling. I find the sacraments and ordering the life of the church for ministry right at the heart of my calling, so to be ordained as a deacon just doesn’t work. Fortunately for me, the UMC recognizes the licensed local pastor as one licensed to word, sacrament, service, and ordering the life of the local congregation. That fits.

To be clear in all of this, I believe the UMC’s system of itineracy and appointment is workable and faithful. It’s not that I don’t believe it’s a right way. I just don’t believe it’s the only way – or that it’s the way for me and my family. Serving as a local pastor has allowed me to find a place in the UMC.

(I’ve written a lot about the distinct roles of pastor and itinerant in Scripture and Methodist history. See “related articles” below.)

One final reason for being a licensed local pastor is that I’m able to be classified as “part-time.” That proves to be a big deal…

Why part-time?

A number of others have asked why I’m designated as part-time. (My job description lists me as full-time, and I work full-time, but I’m listed with the conference as part-time.) This is a much easier question to answer: I’m part-time because of money.

If I were declared full-time, it would cost my church $19,000 to bring me up to the minimum required for full-time local pastors (the minimum in the link is for elders – it’s $4,000 less for local pastors). My church would do that. I have no question about it. They have never pressured me not to be listed as full-time and have even pressured me to take salary increases at times in the past. But if you’ve read anything I’ve written about pastors’ salaries, you know I believe there’s a more faithful way to use the church’s collection. My wife works part-time, so we have other income, and we have never worried about meeting our needs. Perhaps that situation will change some day, but for now, I can’t justify taking any more from the church than I have.

For any of you who have shared my concerns about the church’s use of money, this could be a way for you to do something different. Our conferences set minimum requirements, and the only way to avoid them is through part-time status. I’m told some bishops use their appointive power as a way to make churches keep raising salaries: “If you don’t give him/her a raise, I might need to make a change.” The part-time designation can also avoid some of those politics.

I hope this is helpful to any of you who are considering your own role in this whole process. I’d love to answer more questions if you have them, or to hear your thoughts.

A call to ministry is a call to public life

I’m told that pastors in a past generation were advised not to share anything personal. “Tell stories – but not about your own life.”

I’ve even heard some say they expected a call to ministry meant they couldn’t have friends. They needed to keep a professional distance. The same way your psychologist shouldn’t golf with you.

When I spoke to a seminary class a few months ago about discipleship groups that share about their faith and lives – areas of celebration and areas of struggle – someone asked, “The pastor doesn’t share in those groups does (s)he? I’ve been told it’s not good for my congregation to see that much of me.” So maybe it’s not just a past generation that has heard these things…

But the example I find in Scripture is quite different. What remains hidden of Jesus’ life to his disciples?

Jesus says, “I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you” (John 13:15).

Paul even has the audacity to say, “Follow my example, as I follow the example of Christ” (1 Cor 11:1). And he tells Timothy and Titus to set an example with their lives, too (1 Tim 4:12; Titus 2:7).

Two questions for pastors…

1 – Are you prepared to say with the boldness of Paul, “follow my example”?

What would happen if those you lead actually lived as you live?

What if they treated their families as you treat yours? What if they handled money and generosity the way that you handle yours? What if their efforts in sharing the gospel, the way they dealt with anger, the way they forgave, looked like yours? What if they prayed the way that you pray?

If you said to those you lead, “follow my example!” and they did it… what would your congregation look like?

Some churches would triple their budgets. Others would go broke.

Some would be full of a spirit of love and forgiveness and hospitality like they had never known before. Others would be so full of rage and malice that you might be scared to walk into the room.

What would happen if your people lived as you live?

Now this isn’t to require your every action to be perfect – exactly as Jesus would do it.* It isn’t to expect that you’ve never done anything you didn’t later realize was wrong. But when you do something less than perfect, what’s the response? What’s the next step? Is it the same next step you hope your people might take when they injure or offend, when they do something out of selfish ambition or vain conceit?

2 – Would your people know how you live if you asked them to follow?

Have you shown them how you are following Christ? Do they know the spiritual disciplines you keep? The ways that you’re showing compassion to the afflicted, justice to the marginalized, advocacy for the oppressed? The ways that you’re witnessing to others and inviting them into the life of the Church?

Have you shown them those areas where you fall short? How you’re seeking improvement and God’s grace?

Do they know how you use your money? How much you spend on yourself and how much you give away?

Do they know what your family life is like? Have your people seen what life is like in your home? Not just your best face at the Christmas open house — your real family life?

Two hesitations

I see two primary hesitations from pastors for letting people in this much.

The first hesitation is a fear of what people will see. That itself can come in two forms.

A – The more obvious form: broken and neglected homes, scant or non-existent spiritual disciplines, lavish living and meager giving, rage and anger… For these leaders, the message is, “Do as I say, and I pray you don’t find out what I do.”

If this is you, you need to resign. Tomorrow. Or at the very least, ~~request~~ require that your people give you some leave time to get things together. (If they won’t allow that, then you need to resign.)

This is for the sake of your people. Can they go on growing even with a fraud for a leader? Well, they can. By the grace of God. But if discipleship has so much to do with that call to “follow me,” then whatever you’re giving them isn’t true discipleship.

Even more, this is for your sake. It’s for the sake of your soul. My hunch: you already know you need to back away and get things together. The reason you’re not: shame, anxiety about income and career, the lying voice in your head that your people are still better off with your message and leadership, even if you’re not living it. Or perhaps the lying voice has you convinced that you can fix these major problems without taking a break.

Sadly, I believe a number of people have taken this road all the way to their destruction. There were warning signs. They knew they needed to get out. But they just couldn’t pull the trigger because of those reasons above. And when everything was revealed, it was too late for them to recover (not because of an absence of God’s grace, but because of how much they had hardened their own hearts).

B – The other form: the leader who thinks (s)he needs to be perfect in action. This is the person who doesn’t want anyone to see the blemishes for fear that they’ll lose respect — or that it will give others an excuse for falling short. They don’t want people to see or know that they have bouts of anger or depression, or that they don’t have an amazing prayer life. They have few friends – superficial ones, at that – for fear of what others might see.

If this is you, I think your people could gain a lot from seeing that you’re human. Either they already know it and they’re tired of your charade, or you’re painting such an unrealistic, unstruggling, perfect picture for them that they’re going to give up because of how far short they fall from it.

And it might give you relief to admit that you’re not that caricature of a person who never had a struggle or weakness.

The second hesitation is a fear of coming off self-righteous.

This person can’t imagine having the audacity to say, “follow my example.” How pompous and self-righteous! And it can be. But it doesn’t have to be. Otherwise Paul couldn’t tell people to follow his example. Right?

If this is you, I think you need to ask yourself what you really believe — about God, about yourself, about your people.

When Christ called us to follow him, did he mean it? Did he mean it when he said, “be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect”? Did God mean it when he said, “be holy as I am holy,” and when he said, “I am the Lord, who makes you holy”? Do you truly believe God calls us to holiness and makes us holy?

Do you believe you can, by the grace of God, live a life holy and pleasing to God? Do you believe your people can?

Then dump the concern about self-righteousness and claim it! Tell your people that by the grace of God, you are following Christ. Enough so that they should follow you. This also shows them that you believe they can follow Christ and live lives that are holy and pleasing to God.

Briefly – a third hesitation. (I know, I said two…) A call to ministry may mean a call to public life for you, but does that require your family’s lives to all be public, too? Well, no. I hear that telling embarrassing stories about your spouse and children in public is a bad idea. On the other side of that, my wife has embraced with me some of this felt need to keep our lives public. It’s great to be in that together. This will be a much more legitimate tension to manage than the first two hesitations, which I think we just need to get over…

The Call

So what if you took down some of the “private” walls in your life? What if you shared your life more openly with more of your people? What if you shared your honest struggles, how you’re working through them, and asked for prayer?

And what if you shared what you’re doing to try to be faithful? What if you (gasp!) shared your family’s budget — the whole thing — with your people? Share some stories of how you’re trying to live a life faithful to God. Don’t paint false, idealized pictures. Just tell the truth.

I’m becoming convinced that a call to ministry is a call to public life. I think any of us, as leaders, need to be able to show others our lives and be so bold as to say, “follow my example, as I follow the example of Christ.”

With that, I’ll end this on a different note: I’ve made some big claims here about living publicly. Is there anything you’d like to ask about my personal life? Use the form below. I’ll do my best to give an honest answer, and if I think any question is inappropriate or unhelpful for some reason, I’ll at least try to give you my honest rationale for not answering.

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* By the way, I do think you can be perfect. But it probably looks different than our typical definition. More on that another day…

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