Monthly Archive for January, 2010

Shannon Popkin gives a great description of one of the ways your pastor can bless you.  Read Shannon’s article and consider her question at the end.  I pray that you can give an enthusiastic, “yes.”

When I was in middle school, my youth group went skiing.  Pastor Austin, who loved all things fast, was our slope mentor, darting from one new skier to another.  If you happened to be lying on your back your skis and poles looking like a pile of Pick Up Sticks, he would shwoosh to your side, put out his hand and instantly pop you up in the right direction (remember… I was living in a tiny middle schooler body at this point).  He’d give you a pointer or two, grin, then take off.  You could spot him all the way down the hill by these little puffs of powder with each zig zag he made.

I couldn’t really get the zig zag thing.  Directing my skis toward pine trees or steep looking cliffs made me nervous, so I tried to keep them in parallel lines, pointing toward the bottom of the hill at all times.  This worked beautifully on the hills that were (as another new skier wrote this week) the size of a pimple.  But then I took this approach to the mountain. 

With ski tips pointed toward the lodge below (which looked like a Monopoly-sized hotel), I was shocked at how quickly my velocity doubled and then tripled.  The wind whipped my eyelids back into little squints, so that I could only barely make out a skier just ahead.  It was Pastor Austin.  I was gaining on him and knew nothing else to do but yell out, “I’m commmmiiiiiiiiing!” 

Here to read the rest.

I fully expect to go into an airport sometime and find three rest rooms: one for men, one for women, and one for clergy. Our image—and thus, God’s—is sissified.  Steve Brown.

“Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is kept safe (Prov 29:25).”

*******

If you’re a pastor, and you’re unwilling to be tough, then you answered the wrong call.  And, if you’re a church member who expects your pastor to be some mousy little guy out of a Sunday School paper, then a strong leader is going to offend you.

Pastors are called to teach, rebuke, correct, and train (2 Tim 3:16-17, Titus 3:15).  We are to silence divisive people (Titus 1:10-11, Titus 3:10-11) and contend for the faith (Jude 1:3).  Indeed, we are to let no one disregard us (Titus 2:15).  For sure, we should gently instruct (2 Timothy 2:24-26), still we must contend.

Yet, our culture which is generally unwilling to stand for the truth, increasingly demands that pastors cower in the corner, even when people in their churches are causing conflict.

Here is an excerpt of a classic article from Steve Brown in which he encourages pastors to develop a mean streak.  This article is needed.

I spend a portion of my time teaching seminary students, and one of the pastoral traits I urge my students to develop is, for lack of a better term, a "mean streak." All too often in American churches, pastors have become sitting ducks for neurotic church members (and they are a small minority). If people don’t like the way a pastor parts his hair or ties his tie, they feel free to tell him. If they don’t like his wife’s dress because it clashes with the curtains in the church, they tell him. You wouldn’t believe the comments on my beard I have received over the years! Some people feel free to criticize and correct pastors on things for which they’d never think of criticizing anyone else.

Not long ago I was talking with a pastor in serious trouble with his congregation. He was being second-guessed and ridiculed in a shameful way. As we talked, it became apparent this young man needed to develop a mean streak to survive. He told me he felt he had been called to love his people, to understand them even when they were cruel and abusive.

"While you should be loving and kind," I said, "it’s equally important to be honest and strong. Why don’t you bring the people making those comments before the ruling body of the church and have them justify their disturbance of the peace and unity of the church, or leave."

The young pastor’s reply was interesting: "Steve, I know that’s what I should do, but I’m just not made that way. I feel my ministry is to pour oil on troubled waters, not put a match to it." Needless to say, that young man is no longer in the ministry. He didn’t have enough oil for all the troubled waters, so he is now selling insurance.

Former professional football player Norm Evans told me once about a massive freshman lineman—six foot five—with whom he played. In the lineman’s first game, the opposing lineman kept pulling this man’s helmet down over his eyes. The young lineman went up to the coach and said, "Coach, he keeps pulling my helmet down. What should I do?"

The coach smiled and said, "Son, don’t let him do it."