Category: musings

Through the years, I’ve received more than pleasure from reading J.R.R. Tolkien’s books. He had a deep and keen and helpful insight into life and human nature. Take, for instance, the dialog between Gandalf and Bilbo at the beginning of The Hobbit. Gandalf makes it known that he is looking for someone with whom to share in an adventure. Bilbo’s reply:

We are plain quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner!

Then there is Bilbo, a scene or two later missing his beloved handkerchief, and Dwalin gives him a dose of life in the real world:

You will have to manage without pocket-handkerchiefs, and a good many other things, before you get to the journey’s end.

Then, that made-famous-by-the-movie scene in The Fellowship of the Ring in which Frodo complains about the times into which he had been thrust (“I wish it need not have happened in my time.”), and Gandalf imparts to him this nugget of gold:

So do I and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.

So.much.insight.

I woke up this morning thinking that I would much rather read an epic historical account than to continue living through one today. Why? Because adventures are nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things that make one late for dinner and forget his pocket-handkerchief. I didn’t choose this epoch. I didn’t choose this COVID-19 era, full of divisiveness and mandates and fear and meanness. Honestly, I am partial to arm chairs and fireplaces and pipes and books – far more than I am to adventures.

But that is not for me to decide. I don’t get to choose my trials or my suffering or my lot in life. God is sovereign and wise and good, and in that goodness and wisdom he has decided that I will live now, through this time (and that is true for you too, by the way). As Isaiah 46:10 says:

I declare the end from the beginning and from ancient times things not yet done, saying, ‘My counsel shall stand, and I will accomplish all my purpose.’

So, with Frodo, what we need to decide is what we will do with the time that is given to us.

And, frankly, we might have to manage without pocket-handkerchiefs and a good many other things before we get to the journey’s end.

In the Fall of last year, I think in October, some friends hosted a party and the theme of that party was the Lord of the Rings, from those famous books of J.R.R. Tolkien. It was fun and many of us nerded-out when it came to costumes. My wife created a pretty awesome outfit for me. I dressed as Radagast the Brown, the eccentric wizard who loved animals and the forest and was probably a wee bit mental. The costume totally nailed it. I had a long beard, long hair with a birds nest in it. I looked just like him.

But I am not Radagast. I am Mike. I was merely dressing up – like many of us enjoy doing – as someone who I am not. I wasn’t being real that night. I was doing the opposite of being real. Later I took that costume off and put my clothing back on and that is when I was being real. Being real means wearing our own clothes.

In Colossians 3:8-14, Paul urged Christians to wear our own clothes. So out with our old, musty, worn out, out-of-fashion duds – like anger and malice and lying and slander. And no more dress-up costumes; we don’t need to pretend that we are something we are not.

Instead, we should wear the clothing of our new self, created in the likeness of God (see also Ephesians 4:17-24). We should put on garments of compassion and kindness and humility and forgiveness. And we can’t forget the belt which brings the whole outfit together: love.

That is what being real looks like. My fellow Christians, be real. And by that I mean wear YOUR clothing today. The beautiful garments that Jesus bought for you with his blood.

Why Are You So You?

The other day I was razzing one of my kids and she became frustrated and said, “Why are you so, so… so you?” Hmm. Fair enough.

Pastors don’t just get that question from their kids after a good bout of teasing, though. Most every pastor I know is asked that – sometimes with vitriol – by people in the church. So let’s think for a moment about the expectations Christians often have of their pastors.

I don’t have in mind the very healthy and biblical expectations that all of us should have of someone who is serving as an under-shepherd of God’s flock, such as the expectation of godliness, and the expectation that a pastor would devote himself with discipline and rigor to prayer and the ministry of the Word; the expectation that he would remain biblically qualified to hold his office or the expectation that a pastor would love the people entrusted to him. Those are very healthy expectations to have.

I have in mind the extra expectations people sometimes have because of a desirable trait or traits that they have observed in some other pastor but don’t see in their pastor, at least not in the same measure. Why aren’t you more funny? Why don’t you like the same authors I like? Why aren’t you a better conversationalist? Why are you sometimes reserved or awkward? Why are you so, so you? If you have an expectation of your pastor that isn’t stated in the Scriptures as an expectation of pastors/bishops/overseers/Christians, then that is an extra expectation, and the very sort I have in mind.

Most of the time, we have these expectations because we want more from a pastor than is right or good or healthy. That desire is usually rooted in selfishness and idolatry. But don’t let those two words – selfishness and idolatry – turn you off. Let me briefly explain before you turn off. 🙂

I think it is rooted in selfishness because central to such sentiments is our various needs which we demand to be met by our pastor. Of course, the pastor is supposed to meet certain needs of the flock. The pastor serves the congregation by shepherding and encouraging the church in godliness. He helps to meet a very real need we all have to be trained in the Word of God and to see how to apply the Word to our lives. He rebukes and encourages and equips and protects. Those are legitimate desires. We should want pastors to help us in those areas. It becomes selfish when we seek for the pastor to meet all of our “felt needs”, like the need to have someone around us who is of a certain temperament, or quick-witted, or funny, or chipper, or a great conversationalist.

Some pastors are better than others, and some men make awesome pastors. All pastors make horrible gods.

I think that sentiment is rooted in idolatry because we begin to look to the pastor to do for us what we should be looking to only God for. I know you know this, but it is a good reminder nonetheless: your pastor is not God. He is there to help point you to God, not be God for you, meeting all of your spiritual and emotional needs. I don’t mean that in a cold way. As a pastor, I desperately want to help people turn to God and find their rest and life in him. I try to do that well. But no matter how well a pastor does that, he is still not God. Some pastors are better than others, and some men make awesome pastors. All pastors make horrible gods.

If you woke up this morning and thought, boy I would really like to discourage my pastor today. Here is one of the easiest ways to do that. Send him an email or a text or drop by his study and ask him why he is so, so him. That will do it.

And a quick word to my pastor-brothers who might be feeling the weight of unmet and unhealthy expectations. But not a word from me. I am still fighting the same fight you are. Far better than my word is a quick word from the example of the Apostle Paul (Galatians 1:10): For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ.

Every pastor knows how this feels because it happens every.monday.morning.

I’m usually emotionally zapped on Monday mornings. I spent the day before ministering to others, from morning to night. I preached my heart out, delivering a sermon I spent 20 hours preparing. I counseled and prayed with hurting people. I led an evening home group. I met with elders and prayed about the church and made tough decisions with them. And somewhere in that crazy day I also managed to spend some time with my wife and four kids. Now it is Monday. Oh blessed Monday!

Mondays are a slower day, typically, than the other days of my week. It is a day I typically spend almost entirely in my study at the church. Few people schedule counseling appointments on Mondays. I don’t have any Bible studies or small groups to meet with on Monday. I have few meetings of any kind on Mondays. At the church, there are a few people working and coming and going, but it is a relatively quiet day – unlike the rest of the week.

Those two things by themselves – my emotional exhaustion and the slow pace of the day – heighten the temptation to become discouraged. But on any given Monday there might be even more to it. Maybe the weekend didn’t go as well as I had hoped. Maybe someone made an overly-critical comment to me after the service (or a normal comment that felt overly critical to my overly-sensitive ears). Maybe no one said anything at all – not even a simple ‘thank you’ for preaching the Word. Maybe (and likely) I am overthinking things.

So now it is Monday and I have to begin again. A new week, with new Bible studies to lead, new counseling sessions, new people to serve, and a new sermon to prepare. New everything. Again.

Whatever the exact causes, the blues often knock on my door on Monday mornings. And, as a pastor I have to fight against it. So how do I do that?  Here are three things that work for me when I get serious about the fight for joy on a Monday:

1. I pray and read the Bible. It is essential for me to get up early on Monday mornings and spend time alone with God. I do that every day, but Mondays are especially important. I read the Bible and ponder how to apply the passages to my life – how God wants to speak this into my life. And I confess my wrong thinking, and my general self-absorption. I ask for God’s help to be self-forgetful, to seek to serve others, and to view the new day and the new week as gifts to be well-stewarded for the glory of God. I ask him for his strength and enabling grace to resist the temptation to be glum, and to rejoice in him. I do this in the morning and repeat as necessary throughout the day.
2. I jump into the new week with gusto and work as hard as I can – prepare for as much as possible and get as far as I can on my sermon. Not only is this super helpful for my week’s workload and for productivity, it helps me stay encouraged. I think discouragement and laziness (or idleness) are first cousins, if not best buds. If I let discouragement take root, I will accomplish very little. And if I accomplish very little, discouragement will likely take root. So I work, asking God to help me keep my head in the game.
3. I exercise. Never underestimate the emotional helpfulness of a good five-mile run, especially on a Monday! I try to run three times a week, but I try even harder to never miss a Monday.

These are the three main things that help me not fall to the temptation of self-absorbed discouragement. These things help me fight the Monday morning blues. What do you do?

You have probably been there; an intense discussion about a theological issue – making arguments, counter arguments, pointing out Scripture – and then, wham, in one simple sentence you and your arguments are dismissed. That simple sentence?

You only see it that way because [insert popular-level writer, pastor, speaker] thinks that.

It might be helpful to point out that that not only is an invalid argument for one’s case (no matter the case the one is making), it is also arrogant and extremely condescending. There are few ways to defend against such a statement without being silly (What?!? No way. I don’t even like so and so!).

Such a sentiment suggest that your opponent could not possibly be thoughtfully seeking truth. Rather, they are blindly following someone else and thankfully you can see it and, perhaps, rescue them from their deception.

You might as well say it. Your opponent is a brainwashed zombie. Unlike you! You remain staunchly independent and, therefore, on the right side of the argument at hand.

Anecdotally, I have observed that that sort of attack often comes from lay theologians who have little-to-no formal theological education, and is often used against those who do have formal theological education (like their pastors). Of course, training does not make one right, anymore than a lack of training makes one wrong. It is just interesting to me that often one with no theological training feels free to explicitly assume that a guy with many years of formal training is brainwashed by some popular-level teacher. But I digress.

Here are seven thoughts to help you if you’re considering throwing down the “you’re brainwashed” card to end an argument.

1. Most every Christian has heroes and people they resonate with more than others. You will likely hear your pastor, for example, quote a few people more than he quotes others. This is normal. We all resonate with some more than others.
2. Very few people (especially trained pastors) blindly or uncritically follow their heroes. One of my least favorite book genres is hagiography, or a biography which overlooks the faults or idealizes the subject of the biography. We all know that our heroes are flawed. I have substantial disagreements with ALL (100%) of my theological heroes.
3. Assume the best about everyone. Which means, on point, assuming your opponent is thoughtful. Make him prove you wrong, with bad arguments that don’t hold up to the scrutiny of Scripture, before you will think anything other than that. Don’t let your starting place be that he is dumb.
4. We all are influenced by others, and in many ways. None of us are straight-up original thinkers, and most of my straight-up original thoughts need work, to say the least. All of us are influenced. Don’t throw out the card that your opponent is influenced as if you are free of such outside influences. That simply isn’t true.
5. Make good, thoughtful arguments. Lovingly demonstrating the deficiency in your opponents actual argument is infinitely better than trying to pull the rug of supposed presuppositions out from under his brain. That means avoiding fallacious arguments, especially ad hominem (like the one in view in this post).
6. Be humble and open to the possibility that your opponent may be right. Consider their arguments carefully and thoughtfully. Weigh them in light of the Scriptures.
7. Keep in mind, most people are way smarter than we think they are.

Also, it would be helpful if you would email me the influencer behind this post. I am sure I am blindly following someone here. I just can’t remember who!

I’m sitting in a cozy leather chair with my laptop, and it is pretty early in the morning on January 1, 2020. A cold wind is howling outside. The warm house sheltering me is in the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. My family and I came down to spend the New Year’s holiday with friends. We had a wonderful time, but probably stayed up too late. I think I am the only one awake right now. But people will soon begin to stir.

A decade is over, and a new one has begun. 10 years ago I was a 35 year-old associate pastor in Orlando, Florida. We had 3 children and a 3-legged dog. A decade later, and I am not 35 anymore. We have 4 children and a 4-legged dog. And I am the preaching pastor for a church in North-West Nebraska. A lot has changed in a decade.

But my ambition hasn’t. By God’s grace, I still want to serve Jesus Christ. I still want to live every day for the glory of God in my life and his glory in this world. I still want to be a good husband, a good father, a good pastor and a good friend. I still want the Lord to be magnified in my body, whether by life or by death. It is a new decade, but the ambition I am feeling is the same.

I do have a few resolutions for 2020 (moan and groan away, but I still think resolutions are helpful. Maybe I’ve been reading Jonathan Edwards too much; or maybe Paul?). I intend to read more in 2020 (I’m taking the Christian Reading Challenge by Tim Challies and I plan to read the Bible through again). I plan to write more in 2020 (this blog, and maybe finish a couple of books projects). I want to be more intentional in my conversations with others. I want to love people more and forget myself more in 2020.

These aren’t new ambitions, just resolutions in keeping with the same old ambition – the one that has driven my life and ministry for the last two decades. It is a new decade, but the same ambition.

Hello 2020. Soli Deo gloria!

 

It is hard for me to believe that I’ve been a pastor now for over a decade. It feels like only a year ago that a congregation in Florida gathered on a Sunday night and voted to call me as their associate pastor. But that was the summer of 2008. And I still feel like the new guy on the block here in Nebraska, though now I’ve been the pastor for preaching at Ridgeview for over 5 years.

So what am I learning now after more than 10 years? Lots. Way more than 10 things. But 10 is a nice round number and so here are the 10 bigger lessons that I am still learning after 10 years of pastoral work.

1. I’m still learning that the three main elements of good pastoral ministry are: 1) loving God, 2) loving God’s people, and 3) preaching God’s Word. Way back in my seminary days, a prof asked his students to boil down pastoral ministry into one sentence, and these three things made up my sentence. Ten years later they still do. In fact, more than ever. Since I’m still learning to be a good pastor, I am still learning these three things.
2. I am still learning that loving God means being the real deal. It means seeking to make much of God with my life and ministry, and not to make much of myself. It is the opposite of platforming. It also means making war on my sin. It means loving my wife and children well. It means running from idols. For me, it means getting up early each morning to be in his Word.
3. I am still learning that loving God’s people means way more than just trying to be a nice guy. Loving others often means saying really hard things for their good. It means serving God’s people for their eternal joy in Christ. It also means walking with people through hard times and deep suffering. It means knowing more about the struggles of others than one would normally want to know. It means bearing the burdens of others. I’m still learning how to love God’s people well.
4. I am still learning that faithfully preaching God’s Word is one of the most significant ways that a pastor can love God’s people well. Why? Because preaching God’s Word helps people to see and cherish God, and what can be more important than that? That is why preaching has been the great labor of my life these last 10 years. And the greatest joy has been seeing God work in his people through his Word.
5. I am still learning that the effectiveness of one’s ministry cannot be measured by “the numbers.” Ever. No exceptions, nuance or caveats. It is easy to see a big crowd and do a quick pat on the back, or see empty seats and wonder where you’ve missed the boat. But numbers are a poor measure of pastoral ministry. Terrible pastors can draw crowds and faithful pastors can serve few (and vice versa!). Pastors, stop doing the headcount on Sunday mornings!
6. I am still learning that it takes God’s grace to save a person. As passionately as I try to persuade and win people, both in private and in preaching, at the end of the day it is God who opens blind eyes to the saving beauty of the gospel.
7. I am still learning that pastors need friends and that healthy pastors pursue deeper friendships with a few people. We shouldn’t buy into the lie that pastors cannot have meaningful friendships. I’m so thankful to God that that is, in fact, a lie. Even so, I’m still learning what it means to be a good friend.
8. I am still learning that the church is not about the pastor. This should be a one-and-done lesson, but the reality is that there is the ever-present danger for pastors to think more highly of themselves than they ought (just as there is for everyone else!). The church is about God, his people, and his Word.
9. I am still learning that good leadership is largely good listening. When I assume to know someone’s position or motive or whatever, I am hardly ever right. I need to hear them. I am better at this than I was 10 years ago, but I still have a lot to learn.
10. I am still learning that pastoral work is one of the sweetest, greatest, most joy-filled, most tear-filled, most disappointing and most satisfying paths that a man could ever take.

I love being a pastor.