Review of The Sacred Wilderness of Pastoral Ministry by David Rohrer

Mike Leake

There is a spot on my stomach—somewhat stretched from too much McDonalds—that is a reminder of my days as an avid baseball player.  I am not certain that it would classify as a scar.  It’s nothing gnarly.  It is not a portrait of a painful injury or anything of the sort.  It is simply a discoloration of the skin that certainly belongs in the scar family but probably as a sissy third cousin. 

That “thing” on my stomach comes from not one play but a lifetime of aggressive baseball.  It probably originally came from diving for ground balls playing shortstop or second base.  It grew more pronounced with each stolen base and head first slide.  It comes from stretching singles into doubles.  And also of doing really silly things like trying to score from second on a potential double-play. 

Honestly, I never really think about that “scar”.  But it is there and in a very real sense it is a part of who I am.  It has become a part of my life though there was nothing cataclysmic that birthed it into existence, nor does it possess a  neon light that causes me to notice it in my every day life.  Some books are like that.  You probably only vaguely remember them but they have somehow become a part of you.  They get under your skin and shape you in ways that you really are not aware of.  (For some reason I feel like Garth from Wayne’s World right now). 

I think David Rohrer’s book The Sacred Wilderness of Pastoral Ministry will be like that scar.  Nothing earth shattering.  Nothing that I will really fully remember.  But something that will latch onto me and become a part of who I am.  

Weird skin analogy over…

Summary

At the heart of Rohrer’s book is the belief that pastors are not fundamentally organizational managers but prophets called by God to proclaim His timeless Word of truth.  The Sacred Wilderness of Pastoral Ministry compares the life and ministry of John the Baptist with the contemporary preacher.  At its core this work is a pastoral theology.  But it is more gritty than abstract and more practical than it is heady. 

In each of the nine chapters Rohrer pits the prophetic ministry of John the Baptist versus an aspect of pastoral ministry that the contemporary preacher can be tempted to drift towards.  They are as follows:

  1. Making Ready a People Versus Being the Parson
  2. God’s Work Versus Our Vision
  3. Proclaiming the Good News Versus Managing the Message
  4. Accepting Our Office Versus Cultivating Loyalty
  5. Inhabiting a Place Versus Propagating a Program
  6. Inviting Awareness Versus Administering Anesthesia
  7. Trusting Truth Versus Fearing Instability
  8. Risking Doubt Versus Denying Dissonance
  9. Receiving God’s Blessing Versus Seeking Approval

He closes the book by reminding the pastor of his role to “carry a light that is not his”.  As such we are not called to save the church but to point a bony finger towards the One who did and still does.

My Take:

I did not expect to fill this book with underlines.  I assumed that it would be occasionally pithy but mostly a call to “take care of yourself” and “find peace with Jesus” or some other trite phrases.  What I found inside the pages was everything but.  I felt as if David Rohrer was a dear pastor friend that knew the war that often waged within my heart.  Throughout the book he does what he encourages his reader to do; namely, shine the spotlight on Jesus. 

This book is gritty and gutsy.  Rohrer does not mince words, nor is he afraid to call out shoddy excuses for pastoral ministry.  Yet, he does it gently and what seems to be as admonishment from the lips a friend.  This is but one sample of the type of penetrating insight that fills the book:

…if the avoidance of controversy and the maintenance of the appearance of stability is our aim, it’s a safe bet that we will not venture very far into the work of being a prophet.  Instead we will find ourselves in spaces of anxiety about abstractions such as the well-being of “the ministry” or “the good of the congregation,” but the real work of connecting people with the earth-shattering good news of God’s invitation to an eternal covenant relationship will have little space in our schedule.  Our calling is to trust the truth of our message rather than to fear the unpleasantness that comes when people initially deal with waking up.  (117)

Again, none of those statements are really all that cataclysmic.  Nothing in there really strikes me as new information.  But there is something about the way that Rohrer writes as a pastor/friend that causes the truth of what he is saying to seep deep into my soul.  I know that as I carry around the scars from aggressive baseball I will carry around this book throughout my ministry.  It is simple yet engaging and profound. 

Should You Buy It?

It may sound a little ridiculous to suggest this to those that are not in pastoral ministry but I would do just that.  Few books I think really would give the non-pastor a glimpse into the heart, soul, and frustrations that come with pastoral ministry.  It can help you to serve that fellow pilgrim in your life that people call “pastor”. 

Certainly, if you are a pastor I would suggest this book.  If you are an avid reader like myself, and have read scores of books on pastoral ministry, there will not be new information.  But that is not why you should read this book.  You should read this book because it will cut to the heart.  You should read this book because it will probably be used by God to expose pastoral idols in your heart and it will point you to the life-giving Jesus. 

You can buy it here: The Sacred Wilderness of Pastoral Ministry

The Minister’s Temptation to Fraud

Mike Leake

I did not think that I would enjoy and benefit from this book as much as I have.  But, David Rohrer’s book The Sacred Wilderness of Pastoral Ministry is gritty, honest, and helpful.  Consider this selection:

It would not be overstating the matter to say that after a sermon I sometimes feel a bit like a fraud.  Feeling like I have been neither fully true to myself nor fully faithful to the gospel, I shake my head in confusion over the question, Why do I masochistically spend so much energy on the production of this weekly implement of torture?  In the face of this tension, the temptation is strong to put on the pastoral persona and hide.  If I feel like a fraud, why not just go with that and become one?  Put on the costume, play the role, entertain the troops, and dispense those weekly spiritual analgesics that serve only to dull people’s pain and encourage them to go back to sleep.  Go for the laugh or the tear, but carefully clothe it with an allusion to a biblical text, and people will feel the faintly numinous stirrings of something that approximates the presence of God.  Then in the wake of the delivery, listen for that off-screen voice that says, “That’s a wrap,” descend from the pulpit, call it a day and begin the work of learning the lines for next week’s show.  (Rohrer, 101-102)

Perhaps I am simply revealing the desperateness of my own heart but I can relate to what Rohrer is saying.  I think every minister—no matter their theological underpinnings—can be tempted to feel and act out in such a way. 

If you are a pastor or want to get inside the brain of a pastor (not sure why anyone would desire that), then I would suggest picking up a copy of The Sacred Wilderness of Pastoral Ministry.

Making An Assumer of Yourself in Counseling

Mike Leake

There are few things worse in counseling settings (read—”helping friends out”) than to assume that you really know what is going on.  After hearing a persons story and struggle it is quite easy to jump to conclusions from our own experience and our own theological assumptions. 

In his book, Instruments in the Redeemers Hands, Paul Tripp not only helps us see the problem of assumptions he also offers a few correctives that encourage us to ask the right questions. 

When you assume, you do not ask.  If you do not ask, you open yourself up to a world of invalid conclusions and misunderstandings.  You may try to be God’s instrument but miss the mark because you are putting two and two together and getting five—and you don’t even know it.  Thanks to your assumptions, the person you think you are helping may exist only in your mind. (168)

I think that danger may be especially prevalent with theology and book nerds like myself.  We can assume that just because we “know fundamental things about people in general” that we know the person we are counseling.  Yet we should not confuse this general theological knowledge with “knowing the particular individuals God has sent our way”.  Tripp is even more pointed when he says:

“…you cannot know me only by knowing what Scripture says about me.  You will know wonderfully helpful things about me as a human being, but you will not know how these truths are uniquely manifested in my life without asking.” (169)

In order to combat this temptation to assume too much we are advised to do three things:

1. Always ask people to define their terms.  (“Huge fight” to one lady might be “minor tiff” to another)

2. Always ask people to clarify what they mean with concrete, real life examples of the terms they have used.  (Give me a concrete example, step by step, of the “huge fight”)

3. Always ask people to explain why they responded as they did in the examples they have given you.  (Share your reasons, values, purposes, desires.  Ask the person to evaluate what is behind the behavior.  “Taking the camera off the scene and putting it on the person”).

If you found this helpful and you spend any time with people you would be well advised to invest a little cash in Paul Tripp’s book Instruments in the Redeemer’s Hands.  Not only does Tripp have the wisdom and perseverance to grow an amazing mustache he also knows a fair bit about gospel-driven counseling and relationships as well. 

You can purchase the book here.

Ronald Wayne’s Most Foolish Exchange

Mike Leake

This tweet is making its rounds through the Internets:

As I read that I thought to myself, “I wonder if this is perhaps the dumbest exchange in the history of mankind”.  The guy figured that Apple would be a success but he couldn’t risk the bumps in the road and the potential risk of Apple.  So he exchanged his stock in an up and coming business for 800 pictures of George Washington.  That exchange cost him over 58 billion dollars.

This has to be perhaps the worst exchange in the history of mankind. 

Or is it? 

Actually this exchange by Ronald Wayne is not even the most foolish exchange in his own life.  From what I have read of him it appears that Wayne has lived his life in rebellion to his Creator.  He has, as Romans 1 states, “exchanged the truth of God for a lie”.  He has chosen to “worship and serve the creature rather than the Creator. 

That was me.  I lived a good portion of my life exchanging my “Apple stock” for the fleeting pleasures of 800 bucks.  After all 800 bucks is tangible.  It’s safe.  It pays dividends now.  Even though a life hidden in Christ probably has its rewards it’s risky, too dangerous, too many bumps in the road.  I’ll take my 800 bucks. 

Sadly, this is the daily exchange rate of unbelievers.  They trade in the blessed God—the one of whom it is said, “in His presence is fullness of joy”—for treasure that does not last.  They have decided that the safe though fleeting pleasures of today will prove more valuable than risky faith in the blessed God. 

Jesus changes this.  His Spirit stirs our hearts to be dissatisfied with moth-eaten treasures.  The stars shine, the earth trembles, the heavens testify to His greatness and our heart begins to ache for the something more.  The risky Jesus proves all too attractive and all too lovely to throw away our life on lesser gods.  And so our hearts leap.  We refuse to hedge our bets and play it safe.  We lay it down and follow the One who says, “Follow me, come and die.” 

And there…There in the strong arms of Jesus we find rest for our weary souls.  There the heart of the foolish exchange is broken.  There we meet the blessed God!  There we taste and see that the Lord is good!  There we find life—as it is—hidden in Christ. 

May the Lord break our hearts of the foolish exchange…