A Matter of Calling, Mercenary Christianity part 1

I’m late in starting this series perhaps because it is so close to home, but here we go anyway. . . The question that spurs me on to this discussion is simple: Have Christians become too mercenary?

 

I grew up in the home of a Southern Baptist preacher. I know no other life than that of the parsonage and the pulpit. One of my favorite quips is that I started going to church nine months before I was born. Truth is, I loved it. I could not imagine life without church. I could not really imagine life without church as I know it. I’ve experienced a variety of church traditions—both old and new—and have found places of comfort in all of them, as long as they are Spirit-driven, Christ-centered, God-glorifying in nature. I will admit that this kind of background may lead to a sort of sheltered view of the church and her expressions throughout the world.

 

However, because of this background I’ve been able to witness the ins, outs, ups, and downs of pastoral life and ministerial struggle. I remember the joyful feeling when my father was called from a small-town, rural church setting, to a suburban setting that promised growth and what the world would classify as advancement. I can still feel the anguish when leaders of this very same church chopped my father off at the knees because he wasn’t “bringing in the numbers.” Certainly the lack of commitment on the part of the church had nothing to do with the lack of desire to serve on the part of the church leadership.

 

Amidst all this goodness, badness, ugliness, and indifference I began my walk with the Lord. It started with the decision of a six-year-old boy to turn his life over to Jesus. From that moment in east Texas, God began to move in my life and at the ripe old age of twelve, I realized that there was a call placed on my life to a life of ministry. The decision was not an easy one for me to make because, though I loved the church, I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to make the church my life’s work. As ought to be, the Lord’s will won out, and by the time I was thirteen I said yes once again to Christ’s call on my life.

 

Over the course of the years, I’ve realized this calling in the form of youth ministry, music ministry, education ministry, pastoral ministry, and even service on the international mission field. I have served in both what is called bi-vocational ministry (formerly known as part-time)—in which a minister relies on occupational work outside the church for the main income for his sustenance—and in full-time ministry. I will readily admit that my experience of my calling leads me to the conclusion that full-time ministry is the direction I should go. My dilemma—am I less than committed to Christ and His cause in light of the fact that I do my ministry for pay? Would I actually be more spiritual, walk more closely with the Master, if I were to move back into a classroom and volunteer all the time I spend doing ministry-related work?

 

The conclusion goes back to that word “call”. If indeed I am called to full-time ministry, then I ought to be comfortable in receiving the support I do from the church. Not only that, I ought to expect the church to provide for me support sufficient for the needs of my family. This does not excuse me from being a good steward of what the Lord provides through the church any more than I would be less of a good steward were I teaching English in a high school somewhere in Texas and serving as a layman teaching Sunday school or in some other capacity at my local church. I shouldn’t expect to be lavished with luxury because I am the pastor of a local church, but because of my calling to full-time church ministry, I do expect my support to be fully provided through my place of service. If on the other hand, I were called to bi-vocational ministry, then I should expect the Lord to meet my needs through some means other than the funds I receive from the church (and I think that each local church should provide meaningful support for the man who leads them—more on “meaningful support” later) while allowing me to find employment in such a manner as to be free to minister to the spiritual lives of that local church.

 

What are your views?

 

Oops! I’ve Done It Again.

¹“Do not judge, or you too will be judged. ²For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” –Matthew 7:1-2

 

            In my constant struggle to be more like Christ and less like a Pharisee (read that, less like myself), I find that I have a long way to go. This morning, for instance, provided a prime example. As I walked down the street to take care of some errands (you can still walk to your errands in a town like Mulberry Grove) I saw a man standing, talking to another man in a car. Nothing untoward dawned on me until I walked by the scene and discovered that the man standing was a black man and the one in the car was white. Instantly my mind was struck with the thought drug deal.

            Now, it is not necessarily uncommon that someone might be conducting illegal activity such as a drug deal on one of our fair village’s streets, but what hit me moments later was that—although I knew neither of the men involved, I immediately judged them in a less than flattering manner. For all I know, they were just buddies having a chat because they saw each other downtown. Why, because one was a black man, should my mind immediately scream “bad news, bad news”?

            I also must admit that I’ve become a skeptic in the realm of the work of the church (and again proven to be too hasty to think little of my fellow believers). In the last two months, members of my local congregation have been coming out of the woodwork to volunteer to be a part of new or on-going ministries that are part of the life of our church. Here and I thought no one was paying attention to the sermons I was preaching. What it goes to show is that:

1. God is still able to use that which I think has been a flub.
2. People are not always as dense as I give them credit for.
3. I’m still not as far along as I’d like to believe I am.

What about you? Are you more like Jesus today than yesterday? Or are your thoughts turning to judgmental tones unbidden?

 

Consuming Conviction

Here’s a list of things that people say they are committed to:

Ø      Family

Ø      God

Ø      Country

Ø      Love

Ø      Friendship

 

Here’s another list—things that I’ve observed that people are really committed to:

Ø      Sports (you choose which one)

Ø      Sports teams

Ø      Clothes

Ø      Food

Ø      Self

Ø      Self

Ø      Self

Ø      Self

 

I see a pattern here. Do you? What makes me think that people aren’t really committed to those things that they claim to hold their commitment? Simply put it boils down to time, finances, and conversation.

When we are really committed to our families, we spend our time with our spouses, with our children. Face it, husband, does your wife know that you love her? That you’re committed to her? Does she know that you put her ahead of everyone, everything, else? Do your children see you as their protector and guide or as the legs and feet beneath the newspaper? I speak to the husbands and fathers here because that is the direction that I must approach this issue from, but the questions can easily be addressed to women readers here. Does your husband feel like you would have no other one? I know that my blushing bride likes movies starring Tommy Lee Jones (she has this thing about older men), but if there ever came a choice between the movie star and the man at home, I have nothing to fear from Tommy Lee.

When we are really committed to the things of God, our finances reflect it. When we look at our expenditures, do we bring more into God’s storehouse (that is, the church), or do we amass clothing, electronics, games, or entertainments that have nothing to do with God?

What is it that we talk about? The weather? The world series? The latest fashion?

What consumes our time, our money, our discussions? All too often, I see people (preachers in particular) wasting time talking about politics. Not just any politics, but the political side of church. We strain at gnats when horseflies are contaminating our soup. Interestingly enough, leaders and preachers in my own SBC continue to be caught up in argumentation and debate over what we believe. Since revisions and re-edits were made that changed our faith statement (Baptist Faith & Message) in 2000, the document has not been allowed to say what it’s supposed to say—things that we as Southern Baptists believe. First one side of the politicos in the convention, and then the other want to use the document as not a statement of faith but a manifesto to be endorsed and worshiped by all who would call themselves Southern Baptist. The difficulty with this is that whenever one side wants it, the other side wants to interpret what it means (and vice versa). It amounts to the same kinds of discussions as are reported about early theologians who were more interested in determining the number of angels who could dance on the head of a pin than they were in sharing the gospel.

Others are consumed with talking about American Idol, or the latest craze in fashion or politics, or the price of tea in China.

So what are we consumed with? What do we spend our time on? What do we spend our money on? What do we let dominate our conversation? Discover that and we discover what it is that holds our commitment.

 

Always On!

            Ernest J. Gaines makes a statement in his cultural novel The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman. When one of the characters comes home from getting some education—the one who represents the leadership of his people—with the intention of his leading the people as a minister of the gospel, he floors them with the knowledge that he no longer believes in the church. His statement, “Leave the lies to the preachers.”

            As a preacher, I’m not sure that I care for the designation of “liar.” I am also a bit squeamish about being qualified as a hypocrite. But I’m fairly sure that both of these categories have a great deal to do with who I am. Certainly I don’t encourage hypocrisy, nor do I go out of my way to lie in any and all situations. However, I do find myself donning my mask and putting on a suit of diplomacy (the tailor-made version of lying).

            Kevin Leman gives me a great excuse for this in his research-based The Birth Order Book. Since I am the third of four children and the second son, I qualify as a middle child (in spades). Here is the list of typical characteristics of a middle child: “mediator, compromising, diplomatic, avoids conflict, independent, loyal to peers, many friends, a maverick, secretive, unspoiled.” This is a pretty good description of me. In short, I want two things (mainly): people to like me and peaceful co-existence. I want everyone to be happy. Consequently, this leads to a default of being “on” all the time.

            I relate a great deal with Craig Groeschel who confesses in his introduction to Confessions of a Pastor that he plays his part with relative ease. It is so easy to say and hear what people want to fulfill a desire for acceptance that it becomes a game that some of us play. If you’re really good at it you can never turn it off. We play the part for our church—especially those of us who see our livelihood resting in the hands of the people. Tell them what they want to hear without telling them anything really. It’s a politician’s dream to be able to master this skill. We play the part for our families. How many of us really let our guard down even for our spouse?

            I am married to the most wonderful woman in the world. She’s smart, witty, beautiful, and giving. Still sometimes I wonder, “If she really knew all of me, if I came clean about who I am at my core being, would she still want me?” I asked her once why she felt I was good enough to choose. She just smiled and said, “I love you.” I don’t try to hide from her, but at the same time, I don’t know that I’ve ever fully disclosed myself to her. I have a feeling as I open up more to her all the time, she would just love me more.

            In a way, this acceptance she shows toward me is a sampling of what Jesus does. The big difference is that, even though I try to put my game face on for Jesus, He knows. Sometimes my blushing bride knows, too. She doesn’t say anything, she just knows, and she loves me anyway. See? Jesus knows, and He loves me anyway. This is why perhaps Groeschel’s book is so important. It reminds us—Christ followers—that Christ knows us so we don’t have to be ever “on”. Instead, we ought to be genuine because Christ knows. I am working on this hypocrisy thing (from the ancient Greek stage—the hypocrite was the mask worn by the actor to depict the role he was playing). Take off the mask. . . Your friends and family don’t want it, you won’t miss it, and Jesus sees right through it.