As a pastor, I get all kinds of advice. There’s always someone, somewhere, who thinks it’s their job to tell me how to do mine. (I sometimes wonder if lawyers or doctors get the same kind of “help.” I know football referees do!) Over the past week, I’ve been told via e-mail, magazine columns, blog posts, and junk mail that I’m not doing my job as a pastor unless I am concerned about and a have a plan for my church to tackle gentrification, the homosexual agenda, the next election, racial reconciliation, Islamic terrorism, and pro-life causes.
Since most of these issues are probably worthy of my attention, I began to tally up all the time I would need to spend on each issue I was told was vital to my ministry and the survival of the church in the twenty-first century. I soon filled up this work week and the next and the next. I had to cut out the time I planned to spend with the recently widowed woman in my congregation to hear her laugh and cry as we remembered her husband, whom she dearly loved. I had to postpone the meeting with the man whose marriage is failing. I had to delete the Facebook message from the young Millennial who is struggling with assurance. I guess I still need to prepare a sermon, but I’ve also been told that we should cancel Sunday worship occasionally to do a day of volunteer service in the city. I’ll pray in my car. Meeting a new neighbor will just have to wait.
It doesn’t matter how many times the alarm bell is rung about the danger of “mission creep” in the local church, we are all suckers for the next big thing—the revolutionary idea that will make our churches relevant and effective. It’s like an addiction, and I am not immune to it. “So, what are you guys working on?” I ask a fellow pastor. I’m expecting to hear about their new ministry, their big plans, the shiny thing we’re all chasing.
Everyone makes plans, of course. You need to know what Sunday school classes you’ll offer—or if you’ll even have Sunday school. If God has given you a new opportunity to do evangelism or mercy ministry in your community, then you have to decide how to faithfully accomplish that work. Some churches have opportunities for ministry that others don’t, but the core of our work should be the same—whether we’re in an urban center or “flyover country,” or whether we minister faithfully to dozens or faithfully to thousands. Every church is called to gather together for worship, to grow deeply as disciples of Jesus, and to serve God and our neighbor with the same loving service God exhibited toward us in Christ.
When I remember that simple process, it is easier for me to ignore all the advice I get from well-meaning folks who just want to help. I know that if I listen to them, I won’t be the help God has called me to be to the people he is calling from every tribe, tongue, and nation to worship him.
Eric Landry is executive editor of Modern Reformation and serves as senior pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in Austin, Texas.
