The Pastor's Soul, Role, and Home.

Silver . . . Sloth . . . Self . . . Sex

The title of this post represents a list I received that I will never forget. A seasoned pastor passed it on to a group of us many years ago. In the room sat about two dozen pastors, all of us engaged in various roles of responsibility at different local churches. We had invited this wise servant of God to address the perils facing our church leaders. He didn’t beat around the bush. Throwing diplomacy to the wind, he looked us squarely in the eyes and warned us against those four “occupational hazards” that can easily bring down people who serve the public as God’s representatives.

Go back and read the list again. See if you don’t agree. Those are the four most common battlegrounds of those in ministry. Trace the reasons great men and women have fallen . . . search for the common threads in the tapestry of tragedies. You will find most often a breakdown in the realm of personal morality.

I realize that we may be fed up and frustrated with hearing about moral failure. If you’re like me, you are even wondering what more can (or should) be said about it. But, like cancer, if it is continuing to take such a drastic toll on so many individuals, ignoring it isn’t the answer. An epidemic dare not be tolerated.

It’s important for us to remember that a moral breakdown never occurs suddenly. It comes about slowly, almost imperceptibly, like a slow leak in one of your tires. Some things are tolerated that were once not allowed. We lose the edge . . . we begin to slip . . . we shrug it off and smile instead of facing the truth. Time passes. By and by, sneaky acts of disobedience slip in, but because they are hidden and rationalized, we deny how far we’ve drifted.

I want you to put yourself in the picture of moral erosion and frame it with your particular set of circumstances. I want you to personalize the problem—bring it painfully close to home—don’t analyze it from a theological distance. Otherwise, you will never (and I mean never) come to terms with your own need for a renewal of moral purity.

Some time back I came across an excellent list of questions a small group of men regularly asked one another. Read the questions slowly. I think you’ll agree that they are on target.

•    Have you been with a person of the opposite sex this week in an inappropriate way?
•    Have you been completely above reproach in all your financial dealings this week?
•    Have you exposed yourself to any sexually explicit material this week?
•    Have you spent time daily in prayer and in the Scriptures this week?
•    Have you fulfilled the mandate of your calling this week?
•    Have you taken time off to be with your family this week?
•    Have you just lied to me?

I’d call that an exacting checklist! Before you pass over it too quickly, go back and answer each one for yourself. If you do it often, it will help you avoid the four pitfalls. All of them—Silver . . . Sloth . . . Self . . . Sex—are addressed in those questions.

Let me go one step further. If you don’t already have a group to whom you’re accountable, I urge you to start one. Make that phone call today. Please. Refuse to be an unaccountable pastor.

I shiver when I realize how quickly any one of us could get caught in a moral undertow and be swept into an ocean of tragic consequences.

—Chuck

Let Go!

Can you remember when life was joyful? Even funny? When did everything get so serious?

When did a well-exercised sense of humor get sacrificed on the altar of adulthood? Who says becoming a “responsible person” means a long face and an all-serious attitude toward life?

A very precocious ten-year old asked, “How old are you, Grandma?”

“Well, honey, when you’re my age, you don’t share your age with anybody.”

While Grandma fixed supper, the girl came across the contents of her grandmother’s purse and dumped them on the bed.

Finding Grandma’s driver’s license, the child announced, “Grandma, you’re seventy-six.”

“Why, yes, I am. How did you know that?”

“I found the date of your birthday here on your driver’s license and subtracted that year from this year. You’re seventy-six.” Looking down at the license, she added, “You also made an F in sex.”

Even Christians can make Fs in the abundant life Jesus came to give us. Died, age thirty. Buried, age sixty. An appropriate epitaph for too many.

A lot of adults I know are as serious as a heart attack. Our vocation as pastors is among the most serious of all professions. As a minister of the gospel and senior pastor of a church, a week doesn’t pass without my dealing with life in the raw. Needs are enormous, endless, and heartrending. It’s easy to become grim.

I know of no greater need in our ranks today than the need for joy. Unexplainable, contagious joy. What is the sum and substance of all this? The secret of living is the same as the secret of joy: both revolve around the centrality of Jesus Christ. The pursuit of happiness is the cultivation of a Christ-centered, Christ-controlled life.

To you, my fellow pastor, I say, “Let go!” Let go of your habit of always looking at the negative. Let go of your need to fix everybody else’s unhappiness. Let go of your drive to compete or compare. Let go of needless inhibitions that keep you from celebrating life. Quit being so protective, so predictable, so in control . . . so proper.

To remain perpetually super-serious and fill one’s mind with only the harsh and painful realities of life keeps the radius of our perspective too tight and the tunnel of our hope too long. Every day I try to find at least one thing to laugh about, something to prompt a chuckle.

When Christ becomes our central focus—our reason for existence—contentment replaces anxiety, fears, and insecurities. Most people think that happiness is something that happens to them rather than something they diligently pursue. Joy comes to those who determine to pursue it in spite of everyday circumstances.

These minds of ours are like bank vaults awaiting our deposits. If we regularly deposit positive, encouraging, and uplifting thoughts, we will withdraw the same. And the interest paid will be joy—abundant life. So, please . . . let go!

—Chuck

The Goal of Our Preaching

Application of the Bible is a priority in my preaching. I never leave the congregation to guess how the text applies. I plan the application of the message just as carefully as I work through its introduction and exposition.

I have discovered that if you cannot summarize the application of your sermon in a sentence or two, you don’t have a sermon. You may have a number of interesting and accurate thoughts, but you won’t have it drawn together into a cohesive whole. The result? No one will remember what was said.  You ought to be able to give your message in one or two sentences. Here’s an example: Christ has set us free, and we should enjoy the liberty that He’s provided for us through His death and resurrection.  Your message should state and restate that thought from various angles so that the theme pulsates through your sermon. 

Apply this outside the message as well. It’s wonderful if you have a sensitive minister of music who can weave that theme like a thread through the anthem the choir sings, or the arrangement the ensemble plays, or the song the soloist brings, or the hymns and choruses through which the congregation worships. By doing that, the whole service underscores and affirms the message—not just your preaching. People leave with the application ringing in their minds, almost like a tune you can’t get out of your head.  

I always suggest timeless principles at the end of a message . . . lessons the listener can carry home and use. Really use. I learned from Dr. Stan Toussaint, one of my professors when I attended seminary, that it’s helpful to put the application toward the end of a message.  There’s something about ending a message with a clincher that makes it more effective.  For example, I will often say, “There are three warnings here that all of us would be wise to heed.”  Then I list each one in a brief manner, explaining how they can be applied, and then I repeat them. I often ask the congregation to write down the principles. Why write them down? I learned a little saying many years ago that I have found helpful: “Thoughts disentangle themselves over the lips and through the fingertips.”  In other words, when something is not clear, it’s often helpful to talk it out and also to write it down. That brings clarity.

Don’t skimp on the application of the message. Don’t spend all of your time explaining the text without explaining how the text applies. One of my mentors, Dr. Howard Hendricks, offers a poignant warning:

Every time you observe and interpret [the Bible] but fail to apply [it], you perform an abortion on the Scriptures in terms of their purpose. The Bible was not written to satisfy your curiosity; it was written to transform your life.¹

Pretty blunt, but his point is true: the Bible was meant to be lived—not just studied.

Application is the ultimate goal of our preaching. Go there . . . every single time.

—Chuck

¹ Howard G. Hendricks and William D. Hendricks, Living by the Book (Chicago: Moody Press, 1991), p 284.

Marks of a Mentor: Releasing Others

In my almost fifty years in the ministry, the Lord has brought in and taken away many friends and coworkers. As hard as it always is to lose those I have mentored and developed—both staff and laypeople—I try to affirm their decision to follow God elsewhere. That’s what the church in Ephesus did for Apollos when he sensed God’s leading to leave:

And when he wanted to go across to Achaia, the brethren encouraged him and wrote to the disciples to welcome him; and when he had arrived, he greatly helped those who had believed through grace, for he powerfully refuted the Jews in public, demonstrating by the Scriptures that Jesus was the Christ.

Acts 18:27–28

Please observe, when he was led to leave, they “encouraged him” to go. We pastors need to realize that God does not intend for all the faithful folks to stay at our church. We want that, but God’s plan is greater than ours. We never need to pour on the guilt or try to manipulate someone who senses the need to follow God elsewhere.

We don’t own them. They belong to the Lord, not us. Don’t ever call the congregation, “my church,” or refer to the flock as, “my people.” They’re God’s people. We are simply shepherds. Our purpose is to help them reach their full potential, whatever it may be . . . and wherever it may lead.

I have a long-standing commitment never to talk anybody into coming or out of leaving the church—whether a staff person or layperson. If an individual is led to leave, I find a way to help make that happen. If an individual is led to come, I find a way to help them make the change. Hold everyone loosely.

“Move ahead,” the Christians encouraged Apollos. “Of course, we don’t own you here in Ephesus.” And you know what happened? Paul would later write to the Corinthians:

I planted, Apollos watered, but God was causing the growth.

1 Corinthians 3:6

I love it! The Lord took Apollos back to Corinth, and he became so effective that he watered the seed that the apostle Paul had planted. The Christians in Ephesus get part of the credit for that success. Why? They recognized that God’s work extended beyond their own church . . . and they released Apollos.

We pastors must do the same.

—Chuck

Marks of a Mentor: Addressing Weakness

Last week I shared with you one of the marks of a mentor that we all enjoy: affirming others with trust. But there’s another side of the coin that’s just as important. Good mentors also address weaknesses. For example:

Now a Jew named Apollos, an Alexandrian by birth, an eloquent man, came to Ephesus; and he was mighty in the Scriptures. This man had been instructed in the way of the Lord; and being fervent in spirit, he was speaking and teaching accurately the things concerning Jesus, being acquainted only with the baptism of John; and he began to speak out boldly in the synagogue. But when Priscilla and Aquila heard him, they took him aside and explained to him the way of God more accurately.

Acts 18:24–26

When Aquilla and Priscilla heard Apollos preach, they detected some things lacking. There was nothing in Apollos’s words about the work of the Spirit. No mention of the body of Christ . . . the Spirit-filled life . . . how Christians can live as conquerors . . . nothing. They only heard about the baptism of John and the ministry of Jesus. That’s all Apollos knew. Accurate . . . but incomplete.

A discerning mentor addresses weaknesses that need to be strengthened and wrongs that need to be corrected. That’s one of the greatest benefits of good mentors. They won’t let us get away with staying like we are. They won’t let us keep making the same mistakes over and over again. They love us too much. 

Mentors spot flaws and, like Aquilla and Priscilla, they don’t embarrass us publicly. They don’t nail us on the spot. But behind closed doors they say, “I need to mention something I notice that you do . . . or that you don’t do.” They care, because they’re discerning. They spot the area of need, and they put their finger on it like on a nerve.

The benefits? Reproof causes the one being mentored to remain teachable and accountable. Both are important. But it’s also vital that when we are the ones doing the reproving, we make sure we also are loving. Paul said it well:

Do not sharply rebuke an older man, but rather appeal to him as a father, to the younger men as brothers, the older women as mothers, and the younger women as sisters, in all purity.

1 Timothy 5:1–2

I also admire Apollos’s response. He listened to them. One of the best things we can do when someone corrects us is to pay attention to their corrections. Do you do that? I hope that your biblical knowledge has made you more approachable and less untouchable. Mentors have nothing to gain by correcting us. We have everything to gain. We are better people if we take reproofs personally. (Sounds like a proverb, doesn’t it?) I could name some corrections my mentors gave that stung me to my core. And you know what? I knew they were right. I felt a little humiliated, but they turned it around into something positive: “Once you correct this, you’ll be even more effective.” It was true.

As mentors, we should be good at addressing weaknesses—at giving reproof. We should also be good at receiving it. It makes you a better pastor.

For that matter, it also makes you a better husband and father.

—Chuck

Marks of a Mentor: Trust

We pastors think of ourselves as those who mentor others. For a moment, however, put yourself in the shoes of someone being mentored. If you had a positive mentor somewhere in your past, think back to what that relationship meant to you then.

When a mentor believes in you, trust comes along with it. He trusts you when he is not around. I’ve always appreciated how Paul applied that trust to Priscilla and Aquila:

Paul, having remained many days longer, took leave of the brethren and put out to sea for Syria, and with him were Priscilla and Aquila. In Cenchrea he had his hair cut, for he was keeping a vow. They came to Ephesus, and he left them there.

Acts 18:18–19

Paul didn’t stay; he “left them there.” A mentor who believes in you trusts you when he’s not around. Do you know the benefit of that? Those being mentored become more responsible. They have to!

The mentors we admire are like the bosses we love to work for: they are not controlling people. They trust you when they’re not around. They give you an assignment and they rely on you to follow through. They’re not peeking in your window. They don’t squint through your keyhole. They’re not checking up on you through a friend or putting spies on your tail. They trust you.

You find that even when they’re not there—because they’ve trusted you—you really want to step up. It makes you feel responsible. The flip side of being trusted is proving yourself to be trustworthy.

Paul left Aquila and Priscilla in Ephesus, and the result was wonderful. Because they were trustworthy, they helped to shape the local church during its formative season. It’s a wonderful feeling to know that you’re being trusted.

It’s a wonderful feeling.

Now reverse the roles again. Do you trust those you mentor? If so, do they know you believe in them?

Have you told them so? Go there.

                    —Chuck

Marks of a Mentor: Taking the Long View

Ours is a world that demands immediate gratification. From instant downloads to instant mashed potatoes, we want what we want when we want it . . . and that’s usually NOW!

A mentor isn’t like that. He takes the long view toward those he mentors.

What does that look like in everyday terms? A mentor hangs in there. He has staying power.  He isn’t restless.  He doesn’t run.  He isn’t a fair-weathered friend.  He doesn’t give up when there’s criticism. That takes immense maturity in relationships with others. Look how Paul expressed it:

We urge you, brethren, admonish the unruly, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with everyone.

1 Thessalonians 5:14, emphasis added

Taking the long view applies, regardless of the situation. That means a faculty member doesn’t step down because there’s difficulty in the school. A husband or wife doesn’t walk out because it gets rough. An elder doesn’t get his shorts in a wad because his idea isn’t accepted. Does that mean that we never walk away? Not at all. But most of the time we head for the exit far too quickly.

As a pastor, you stick it out. You take the long view. Paul himself modeled this mark of a mentor. After he was viciously opposed in Ephesus, his response may seem surprising:

He settled there a year and six months, teaching the word of God among them.  

Acts 18:11

You’re probably facing a tough time right now. If you are, believe me, I understand. The ministry can be brutal to its shepherds. It has gotten hard for me in every place I’ve served the Lord . . . and the reason I didn’t run? The memory of my mentors.  They didn’t run either. I never have forgotten that. When a mentor hangs tough, what’s the benefit that comes to those being mentored?  They cultivate perseverance. They too learn to take the long view.

Before you consider resigning, let me remind you of Paul’s exhortation to Pastor Timothy. Read each word carefully:

Preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, exhort, with great patience and instruction.

2 Timothy 4:2

As preachers, we tend to gravitate toward the words, “reprove, rebuke, exhort.” But let me urge to you reflect on that last phrase: “with great patience and instruction.” That tells us how. There’s no instant gratification in that phrase.

Take the long view towards those you mentor.

                    —Chuck

Marks of a Mentor: Caring Up Close and Personal

For the next several posts, I want to share with you what I call “the marks of a mentor.” These are the characteristics I have discovered in individuals who leave a positive, lasting impression on the lives of others.

I’ve already introduced you to two of my mentors in my two previous posts. These men, among a number of others, have permanently marked my life by the presence of their lives. Not just their words. Their lives.

The first mark of a mentor? They are caring. They get up-close and personal in the lives of those they influence and guide.

The apostle Paul was like that.

We tend to think of Paul as a writer of doctrines and great letters. We think of Paul as a preacher. Even a tent-maker. But all of these served a higher purpose . . . especially toward his fellow-believers. Paul was a mentor.

Paul lived in Corinth with Aquila and his wife Priscilla for a year and a half (see Acts 18:1–11). Can you imagine Paul living in your house? What a privilege!

Now, don’t misunderstand. A mentor has involvements that go beyond time with those individuals he or she is mentoring. Paul had more to do than sit around and talk about spiritual things with Aquila and Priscilla. He worked as a tent-maker and also spent time in Corinth evangelizing Jews and Greeks. When Silas and Timothy came to town, Paul carved out time to devote to those long-time friends. But what stands out to me is when Paul found this married couple, he came to them, and he moved in with them. He came up close and personal. He cared.

Let me amplify that truth for you as a pastor. A mentor doesn’t keep his distance. He doesn’t operate in an aloof or secretive manner. The door to his study is rarely closed. He opens his life . . . he doesn’t run and hide. He pays attention to little things in the lives of others. He takes a personal interest in their areas of concern and need . . . for encouragement and improvement. He passes along helpful and practical techniques because he stays up close and personal.

A caring mentor isn’t afraid to mention his own failures or pass along lessons he’s learned the hard way. Every mentor I’ve had has always told me stories of failures, faults, flaws, struggles  . . . the things they’ve learned the hard way. We learn to do that from our mentors who come up close and personal.

Only when you open up your own life do you earn the trust to be heard. You can’t do that from a distance. You’ll never do that on a CD or on a tape. You can’t do that over the phone or in a pulpit. You have to do it face-to-face, up close and personal.

Why? Because you care.

                    —Chuck

The Value of a Mentor, Part 2

Webster defines a mentor as, “A trusted counselor or guide; a tutor, a coach.”

This describes a mentor I had during a vulnerable time in my life as a young man. I was serving in the Marine Corps, stationed on the island of Okinawa . . . separated from my newlywed wife for about seventeen long months.

To my surprise, Bob Newkirk, The Navigators representative, took an interest in me as a person. We regularly played handball and racquetball together. I stayed in his home on occasion. I spent holidays there when I was off duty on liberty. Bob and I traveled together. At gospel meetings, I would lead singing, and Bob would preach. We ministered as a team. I went through an advanced Scripture-memory program, thanks to Bob.

He loved me. He confronted me. He pointed out blind spots. He built into my life.

That is mentoring.

I’ve discovered when individuals are gifted and young, the most common tendency is to fall into arrogance, and sometimes, raw conceit.  Almost without exception when I detect conceit in an individual, I say to myself, They haven’t been mentored. I have never met a self-important individual who has been mentored. Truth be told, arrogance doesn’t survive mentoring. A mentor will point out blind-spots and will reprove you appropriately when you need to be confronted about your pride. 

As a result of being mentored, you learn the value of being vulnerable, open, unguarded, honest, and ideally, a person of authenticity. 

I still have mentors in my life. I welcome them. Why? Because I need them.

So do you.

                    —Chuck

The Value of a Mentor, Part 1

Years ago Dan Fogelberg wrote a song about his father called “Leader of the Band.” In the chorus he calls himself a “living legacy” to his dad. I love that phrase. Why? Because it tells of the impact a mentor can have on another life.

When I look at my own life, I see that I am a living legacy to a handful of men who took an interest in me. They saw potential where I did not. They encouraged me to become something more than I was. One of the first of these men saw the most potential in me where I saw the least. His name was Dick Nieme.

When I began high school, I stuttered so badly I could hardly finish a sentence. With that speech impediment came a very low self-esteem. I learned to keep my mouth shut and maintain a low profile. The last place I wanted to be was in front of an audience! 

I managed to get through the first weeks of my freshman year without embarrassing myself when, one day, Dick Nieme found me at my hall locker and shocked me with his words: “Chuck, I want you on my debate team.
“Who, m-m-m-m-m-m-me?” I looked over my shoulder at the guy standing behind me. I thought for sure the teacher was talking to him. “Y-y-y-y-y-y-you want hi-him. You d-d-don’t want m-me.”

“No, I know who I want. I want you. You’ve got the right stuff, Chuck. We just need to tap into it.” Starting the very next week, Dr. Dick Nieme met with me from 7:15 to 7:45 each morning before school for speech therapy sessions. Very common now. Unheard of then. He helped me understand that my mind was running ahead of my ability to form the words in my mouth properly. My mind was running ahead of my mouth. (I have the exact opposite problem now!) He taught me to slow down, pace my thoughts, and concentrate on starting the words I wanted to say. He gave me exercises to hone my enunciation and give a rhythm for each syllable to follow.

I joined the debate team . . . and ultimately, I loved it! That led to my participating in school plays. Our drama team went on to enter the finals of the one-act play competition in the state of Texas. Dick Nieme was there all the way. When I failed, he coached and encouraged. At each triumph, he applauded. He challenged me and inspired me and we continued to set goals just beyond my reach. Finally, I auditioned for the lead role in the senior play . . . and landed it.

When the curtain rose that night, Dick Nieme sat front row, balcony. When I came out for my bow, he was the first to stand . . . he cheered the loudest. He really embarrassed me . . . but I loved it.

Today, over fifty-five years later, I look back and realize how much I owe that man. He believed in me. He respected me. He started me down the path to becoming the man—the preacher—that God intended. I’m glad I was able to express my deep gratitude to him before he died. I’m glad he knew the impact he had on at least one life.

Why do I share this with you? Because you can have that kind of an impact in the life of someone. God has given you a place of influence as a pastor. Look around for a young man who needs coaching and encouragement. Build into his life over the next few years. Use your character as well as your words. You never know how God will use your efforts at mentoring for His glory.

I am a living legacy to a handful of great men. The first was Dick Nieme.

                    —Chuck