8 Years a Pastor

8 lessons I keep needing to learn

Today is the eighth anniversary of my ordination and installation. Much like a birthday, I find it is worth reflecting on what God and His people have taught me in the past year or season. Here are my thoughts this year:

1. Seeds planted long ago may yet still bloom.
   A guest arrives. I introduce myself and say something like, “Hi, I’m pastor Andy, I don’t think we’ve met before.” And every once in a while the reply will come back that we have met, years and years ago, at a funeral for [person I do remember].
   What usually happens in these cases is that the guest has had something happen in their life that has prompted them to consider faith more seriously. Perhaps an illness or a death of a loved one. And as they search their memory for a church where they have had a positive experience, they remember that funeral. And they show up. Sometimes that guest turns into a stalwart of our community of faith. Sometimes they come, receive a little water and sunlight, and are off again. I’m not sure if or when they’ll be back. But the planting of seeds is always worth it.

2. Every sermon (even if I thought it was mediocre) is meant for someone.
   It is some sort of preacher law that says, “The worse I think the sermon, the more likely someone will comment on it in a positive way.” I have no idea how this happens with such regularity. But if I think the sermon was lacking in some way, the Spirit will be at work in the ears of the hearers to prompt a better sermon in their mind. Just as the Holy Spirit intercedes for us in our weakness in the realm of prayer (Romans 8), I think the Spirit also intercedes in the ears of hearers for the weakness of pastors.

   The sermons I think are pretty good are also meant for somebody. And sometimes people will say so. But every once in a while, if it’s not obviously meant for anybody else, it might be meant for me.

3. Receiving gifts is a joy to be celebrated, not something to push away.
   As a pastor, I receive a lot of gifts. Most are small. People bring tomatoes from the garden or leave a package of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups in various holiday shapes. Kids give me drawings to hang on my door or handmade cards for various occasions. It’s easy to receive small gifts.
   But every once in a while someone will offer a gift of more substance (e.g. a stay at someone’s beautiful home while they are on vacation). When such offers occur, my instinct is to refuse. Some gifts feel too good or generous to accept. I’ve had to learn that it is okay to receive such gifts with thankfulness and celebrate people’s kindness. After all, when I give a gift, it would break my heart if somebody refused to accept it because it was too good. More than that, God gifts us with so many things and it would break His heart if we refused them.

4. It’s okay to advocate for myself.

   In about a year I’m going to be taking a sabbatical. This is a three-month time of intentional rest from ministry. I won’t be preaching, leading Bible study, or doing hospital visits. I won’t be writing my next book or posting on substack during that time. I will be resting. This is something I chose to ask for, to advocate for on my own behalf. It’s not easy for me to do that sort of thing. But people cannot read my mind. And they do not know what I need if I do not ask.

5. I don’t need to make or give input on every decision.

   I was at my congregation for about 18 months when the COVID-19 pandemic hit. So much of how we operated as a congregation had to change. In order to keep people safe, we cut down on the number of volunteers needed for various things, which meant that I picked up a lot of tasks that I otherwise would not have had. We have been back to normal for quite some time, but that process made people look to me as the stamp of approval on all sorts of things that are not my call. It has taken some time for me to get used to saying, “That’s not my decision. That’s [this person’s] role.” More than that, sometimes when I say something, everybody just goes along with my input. And let me tell you, I’m not always right. So, sometimes I step back and intentionally try to have less influence.

6. The call process is hard.
   Back in February and March, Stephanie and I were considering a call to a congregation in the Boston area. This process often involves interviews and sometimes a site visit. We spent a few days getting to know this congregation and seeing the area. And then we went back to the Bay Area and waited for God to speak as to what we should do.
   It was one of those situations where there was going to be sadness no matter what decision we were led to. We declined the call. And we knew that we were saying no to a good thing, to an untrodden path that we know God would have blessed.
   Sometimes when making big decisions, God has filled us up with a sense of peace after the decision was made. This was the case when we were moving to Turkey, Germany, and back to the USA. But in this case, that sense of peace was lacking. We didn’t (and really still don’t) know what God is up to. But, we also don’t need to know why God does what He does. There is still much to do where we are currently called. And it remains a good place to serve.

7. How to have realistic energy expectations.
   Some things take a lot of energy. Some of those are obvious. Funerals, burials, hospital visits with the dying are all things that take an enormous amount of energy. They are all an honor and well worth doing, but they are draining. Other things are big energy tasks for me, but not for others…e.g. making a phone call or having an unexpected meeting. These may sound like very simple tasks that require very little energy, but for me, they drain a bit more than expected. I have to remind myself in such cases to simply take a moment to recover. If I am ever having trouble focusing on a Thursday afternoon, it is usually because something draining happened earlier in the day and I forgot to put my battery on the charger for a minute to recover.

8. The most important things I do as a pastor are often unseen and uncelebrated.
   People often judge a pastor by the most visible things. Preaching, leading worship, teaching Bible study. And these are all extremely important. But when I think back on the most important moments in the past eight years, it’s often moments with one person. And that one person is often not able to respond.
   I think back to a hospital visit with a parishioner who was very near death, where I prayed literally half of the psalms in vigil at his bedside.
   I think back to a visit of a man I had never met before with dementia. He was dying. His family was far away. But his daughter had requested a pastor visit him in his final days. So I did. And commended him to the Lord. And the Lord took him.

   I think back to times when I have stood sentinel in cemeteries, waiting for families to leave, whispering final words to the deceased.
   
   If you ever grow frustrated with your pastor (and there are legitimate reasons for that), remember that there is an abundance of important work being done that you will never see or hear about.
   
   Thanks for reading. And here’s to more years and more lessons.

   Andy