Can The Pastor Refuse To Do a Religious Task and Still Be a Servant?

Mike Leake

whatdoyoudohereA pipe busts in your house. You call the local plumber. He comes by, looks at the pipe, and bluntly says, “I’m not going to fix that for you. I don’t think you’ve properly cared for your pipes. And I’m not going to put another one in. That’ll be $80 for the house call.”

You’re pretty livid, right?

Plumbers fix pipes (usually for an exorbitant amount). You’re a plumber. Fix my pipes!!!

A dying man requests to receive the Lord’s Supper from a local Anglican clergyman. The pastor comes to his house, speaks to him for a bit, and rather uncomfortably informs the man that he cannot in good conscience administer the sacrament.

Isn’t this your job? How dare he refuse to give this solace to a dying man!?!?! Do your job!

That’s an actual historical situation, by the way. In 1765, John Newton (who had only been a curate for a year) was uneasy about administering the sacrament to Thomas Abbott. Abbott was a wealthy lace-maker and landowner and from what Newton says in his diary he “wants smoother doctrine than I can give him”.

We don’t know many more details but Newton refused to give him communion. Less than a week later, Mr. Abbott found another pastor to give him communion. The pastor was paid handsomely (for doing such a great job, I’m sure). As for Newton, he wrote in his diary that he was thankful to “the Lord that he enabled me to act according to my judgment and conscience in this business.” (Newton’s Diary, 1765, Oct 22)

What Would You Say You Do Here?

Now, the Book of Common Prayer does say that Newton had every right to refuse communion if he had good reason. In that regard Newton was not in any dereliction of duty. And more importantly, Scripture would be on his side. But this introduces an important discussion concerning the pastor’s duty. What does faithfulness look like?

We know that the work of a plumber can be important for human flourishing, as is also true of a pastor. None of this is to demean the work of a plumber or unduly elevate the work of the pastor. But it’s to acknowledge that it has a different shape, and when we fail to recognize this pastor and parishioner alike miss the mark.

Pastors aren’t being hired to do a service. In his book, Working the Angles, Eugene Peterson reflects upon the difference between the calling and “what people are asking me to do”. He reflects upon all of the things which he has done pastorally,

“…solely because people asked me to do it and it didn’t seem at the time that it would do any harm and who knows it might do some good. Besides I think there is a pastor down the street who would do anything asked of him but whose theology was so wretched that he would probably do active harm in the process. My theology, at least, was evangelical and orthodox.” –Eugene Peterson, Working the Angles, 13)

What is the job of the pastor? Do the directives come from the people or from another quarter? Some questions are easy to answer in theory, but more difficult in practice.

The Temptation and It’s Deliverance

It can be an ever present temptation for the pastor to give the people what they want. It’ll provide not only a good amount of job security but also a fair share of accolades. You’ll be seen as faithful, available, helpful, solid, loving, and all those other adjectives we pastors strive to have attached to our identity.

But some day, if we’re given the grace to get out of the mess, we wake up and realize that much of what we are doing on a daily basis could be done with only minimal interaction with the living God. Peterson asks an important question,

How do I keep the line sharp? How do I maintain a sense of pastoral vocation in the middle of a community of people who are hiring me to do religious jobs? How do I keep a sense of professional integrity in the midst of a people who are long practiced in comparative shopping and who don’t get overly exercised on the fine points of pastoral integrity? (Peterson, 13)

These are difficult questions. We’re not called to refuse people simply for the sake of holding a line. We are called to be servants. But fundamentally servants of the living God. (And that’s not exclusive to pastors). And God has given us the contours of our pastoral duty.

One of the best answers I’ve found to this question comes from Diane Langberg. I’ll close with her words:

It is not only his work to do with him, but it is his work done for him. You are not working for the ones suffering. You are not working for anyone else looking for their approval or certain status in the church or your community. You are his worker. If you work as if it is for the suffering, then you will be governed by them. Their needs will be your ruler and you will end up in their noise and chaos. They are considered and they must be understood, but the work is done in their life but for your God. He says this, not that; these limits, not those; this response, not that one. The needs of others are not the call nor are they your governance. If their suffering rules you, then the outcome is simply double of the problem. The call is from God, the governance is God’s alone, and from that place in him you enter into the suffering of another. (Langberg, 116)

Boring Kingdom Growth

Mike Leake

greenforce-staffing-bYZn_C-RswQ-unsplashDescribe the kingdom of God. What words do you use?

Amazing.

Awesome.

Wonderful.

Exponential.

Mighty.

Terrific.

What analogies would we use? I doubt you’d first think of what Jesus uses in Mark 4. “A sower went out to sow…” How incredibly boring is that? In our society that would be like saying “a fry cook puts in another batch of fries” or “a mechanic twists off an oil filter” or “a secretary files a piece of paper.”

The kingdom of God is like a farmer who goes out and plants a seed. Really?!?!?! Plants a seed? There is nothing exciting about this.

If we stick with Jesus’ analogy here it really doesn’t get any more exciting. The guy in his illustration plants the seed, and you’d expect him to work the ground, water the field, do all the good farmer-things you’re supposed to do. But he doesn’t. He sows the seed and then just waits.

This makes us uncomfortable. The religious leaders of Jesus’ day would have balked at this notion. They expected the kingdom to come because of their moral integrity. The Zealots (of which one of Jesus’ disciples was a part) expected the kingdom to come through a revolution—when the Jews finally decided to stop cowering to Rome. It seems to me that we like to think that God is in heaven just waiting anxiously for us to finally align everything so He can bring the kingdom.

But Jesus kind of shoot a hole in that theory of activity to bring about the kingdom. His farmer doesn’t do much of anything. He simply goes about his life and the seed bears fruit. The harvest comes and the farmer didn’t do much of anything to bring it about.

Why is Jesus saying that this is what the kingdom is like?

He is saying that it doesn’t come by the efforts of man. You can’t make the kingdom come. Nor can you stop it. Just as the farmer goes to bed, gets up, goes about his day—not even tending to the seed and it still grows—so also the kingdom. This means that the kingdom, the gospel, contains within itself everything it needs to grow.

I’m not sure that we’ve really grasped what Jesus is saying here. We tend to follow Finney’s axiom that “a revival is the result of the right use of the appropriate means.” If you want revival, follow the formula, says Finney.

You want to reach young families…do X.

You want to reach students…do X.

You want to reach Boomers…do X.

You want to reach intellectuals…do X.

On and on and on and on….

But Jesus says, “A sower goes out and plants a seed…” and the thing just grows. Again, the gospel contains within itself everything it needs to spread. People are converted through the Holy Spirit using the gospel—giving growth to the seed.

The gospel doesn’t need my excellence. It doesn’t need my craftiness. It doesn’t need me to juice it up a bit or to make it nice and shiny or appealing. The gospel—the naked, simple, unadulterated gospel—is enough.

That’s not an invitation to sloppiness, or unconcern, or doing things to stand in the way of the gospel. But it’s to give terrific news. We aren’t innovate enough to bring about the kingdom, and praise God, we don’t have to be. We don’t have to be persuasive enough to bring about change. We don’t have to have a perfect strategy for winning back people, bringing about revival, etc.

Sow the word.

Plant the seed.

Trust the Lord.

This little parable tells us that even though it might be “boring” our task is just faithful gospel proclamation. And it’s going to grow. Plant the gospel. It will grow. Maybe you won’t even see it. But it’s going to grow. It will get to the point of a harvest. It will bear its intended fruit.

Rest.

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10 Signs Your Religious Knowledge Is Becoming Impersonal?

Mike Leake

pexels-pixabay-159866What do these have in common?

Sweatpants, a toilet tank lid, an xbox console, a spatula, and a pickle jar.

Give up? I’ll give you a clue. What if I added a rope, a revolver, a candlestick, a lead pipe, a dagger, and a wrench?

Yes. All of the above items have been used as murder weapons. Which goes to show that humans can be rather creative in the objects we use to bring harm to others. I think we could add one more to our list. Religious knowledge.

One could argue that religious knowledge is at least one of the murderous weapons used against the Lord Jesus. And it’s a destructive tool used in our day as well. I’m reminded of these words from Eugene Peterson, 

When religious knowledge becomes an impersonal item of information, or is used impersonally, it ceases to be biblical. If it is used to put distance between persons, something has gone wrong. If it is used to put another person in his or her “place”, something has gone wrong. If it is used to improve life apart from faith in God, something has gone wrong. And if the pastor collaborates in any of these transactions, he or she is an accessory to the sin. (Eugene Peterson, Five Smooth Stones, 173)

Peterson is correct. Anytime that religious knowledge is divorced from the personal it becomes a deadly tool. A pickle jar is meant to store pickles. Sweatpants are clothes. A spatula is used for flipping burgers. And religious knowledge is used to unite people with God and each other.

Why Are Pastors More Susceptible To This?

Peterson’s book is specifically written for pastors. This is something that is particularly tempting for those of us who work in religion. In his book, The Sacred Wilderness of Pastoral Ministry, Dave Rohrer speaks of this danger:

It doesn’t take much for the church to become a contemporary version of the fig leaf. It’s a great place to hide from God. It can be a very good place to inoculate ourselves with enough religion to keep us insulated from the power and love of God…Close enough to holy things to be anesthetized by religion, we successfully avoid the threat and the reward of an encounter with the living God. (Rohrer, 103)

Always being around holy things can trick us into thinking that we’re more close to God than we actually are. That’s the problem with religious knowledge—it can mask a loveless heart. And though we pastors might be particular prone to this, I think it’s something any believer can fall into.

10 Signs That Religious Knowledge Is Becoming Impersonal?

Here are a few signs that my religions knowledge is moving into the dangerous territory of being impersonal:

  1. I am increasingly drawn into controversial topics.
  2. When in a group I like to talk about what I know before hearing what others know.
  3. My prayer, journaling, meditation, and reflection time pales in comparison to my study time.
  4. I am developing a cynical view of others. I criticize more than I hope, seeing faults before I see the positive work of Christ.
  5. I use my religious knowledge to gain or exert power and influence over others. Religious knowledge helps me get what I want.
  6. I share religious knowledge to keep people from asking hard questions about my life.
  7. I find myself angry if somebody disagrees with me on a topic I have studied or am passionate about.
  8. It’s been awhile since a belief has been challenged by the Scriptures.
  9. I don’t like studying Scripture in a community where others can challenge my thoughts, ideas, and interpretations.
  10. I struggle with pleasure related sins.

If you find any of these present in your life, consider that your check-engine light might be blinking. If your religious knowledge has placed you in a public position, it will be even more difficult to break away from the pull of impersonal religious knowledge. The reality is that you can “get away” with this for a far lengthier time than you ought to be able to.

Yet, let this serve as a caution. Consider reading more devotional type literature. Spend some time alone with the Lord, with no need to produce something. Ultimately, it’s a call to repent. 1 Corinthians 13 tells us that if we have religious knowledge without love, then we are nothing but a clanging cymbal. Heed the warning.

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How Is Mark’s “Light Under a Basket” Different Than Matthew and Luke?

Mike Leake

pexels-david-bartus-366791

My favorite thing about going to the doctor as a child was partaking of their subscription of Highlights Magazine. It was filled with puzzles and jokes and all things entertaining to a budding nerd like myself. One of my favorite games to play was Spot the Difference.

Let’s play that game. Can you spot the difference in these three verses?  

Is a lamp brought in to be put under a basket, or under a bed, and not on a stand? Mk 4:21.

Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. Mt 5:15.

No one after lighting a lamp covers it with a jar or puts it under a bed, but puts it on a stand, so that those who enter may see the light. Lk 8:16.

This might prove more difficult than a Highlights puzzle. Look closely at Matthew 5:15 and Luke 8:16. Notice that in both Matthew and Luke the lamp is in the objective case. And the point, especially in Matthew, seems to be something like, “You’re the light of the world, don’t be quiet about Jesus.”

But Mark is doing something different. In Mark the lamp is the subject of the sentence. It’s about the lamp, not the one lighting the lamp. What he’s doing here is balancing what he said in 4:10-12. Contrary to what it might seem through his speaking in parables, Jesus hasn’t come to be put under a basket. He is there to be found.

A Treasure Hunt

Why is Mark speaking this way? It’s because for the time being—and this theme carries on throughout Mark—the identity of Jesus is largely hidden. It seems as if Jesus is hiding under a basket. But it’s important for Mark’s readers to understand that Jesus is not actually hidden. He’s there if we have eyes to see.

Think of it like a treasure hunt.

My wife and I like to watch The Curse of Oak Island. Well, we used to avidly watch it. Now we catch a few episodes here and there. The Curse of Oak Island is all about this fabled treasure that was hidden off the coast of Nova Scotia. And for 10+ seasons a couple brothers and their friends have been digging expensive holes, metal detecting, sniffing wood, and unearthing history.

After a decade of watching, we’re less enthused. I’m not exactly convinced that there is anything there anymore. But the Lagina brothers and company must still believe there is a treasure there—or at least they’ve found that the search in itself is a cash cow.

That’s the nature of treasure hunts. If you truly believe something is there then you’ll spare no expense to unearth it. But if you’re standing on the sidelines you must not believe the treasure is worth the hunt.

This is what Jesus is saying about parables. All of the talk in this section about soil and lamps and seeds is about how you respond to the message of Jesus. It is a reflection of your heart. If the message of Jesus means little to you—whether you’re hard-hearted, fickle, or distracted makes no difference—then you won’t jump into the treasure hunt.

You Get What You Put Into It

Mark’s point, then, is that the light of Christ is shining. He hasn’t put it under a basket. But it’s also the type of light that we need eyes to see. This is why Jesus says, “Pay attention to what you hear”. He is telling us to heed the Word.

If you discovered an old diary that was rumored to hold the secrets to the location of this vast treasure, you’d scour every word for clues. Unless, that is, you thought the treasure hunt was a wild goose chase. The same is true of the Word of God. We’ll take heed to the Word if we believe it applies to us, if we believe that herein is found treasure. 

That is what this text is saying. If you hear with intent then you are going to get something out of it. Not that you’ll put meaning into a text that isn’t there. Nor that there is some secretly deposited message in an archaic code. It’s plain as day, if you but look.

If you find the message of the kingdom to be dull then it’s going to be dull. If you listen with the intention of trying to find fault then you’ll find fault. With the measure you use it will be measured to you. And so pay attention to what you hear.

The light shines. This gives us hope.

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