"I'm Begging You"

"I'm begging you."  Those were the words from a man who wanted me to come be the pastor of his church.  He went on to comment on how I was just what they needed and he seriously hoped that I would become his pastor.  To make a long story short, I did.  I'm not sure how long it was before I got an early morning call from him with the remark, "Don't take this personally, but my wife and I are going to be going to another church."  Now, what had changed?  Had I not turned out to be the pastor he thought I was?  Was I not as productive as he had assumed I might be?  Was it just that another church was more attractive?  Who knows.  In fact, some people who asked him at the time got all sorts of answers suggesting that he might not be all that clear himself.

I have been a pastor for more than 30 years now and I have served four churches.  Those churches have been in four different states, in both the Midwest and the South.  Those churches have varied in terms of the kind of people that made them up, from farmers, to blue collar industrial workers, to management and professionals.  In all of those settings I have had people leave those churches and it has left me with some observations.

First, I may be wrong but I can't think of time a when someone got mad at me and left.  That is both remarkable and a bit mystifying.  Does it mean that I have not been confrontational enough?  Does it mean that I value peace over personal or doctrinal purity?  I don't know, but I honestly don't think so.

Second, I have heard that earlier phrase, "don't take this personally" way too many times.  I know that people are just trying to be nice.  They have decided to leave and don't want to just disappear.  When it happens I am sure I get the "deer in the headlights" look.  I have always tried to say, "I understand.  I will pray for you.  If there is ever anything I can do for you, please call."  But their admonition to not take it personally, never has worked.  Loosing someone, even a cantankerous soul, (and I have had some of those) always has an impact on me.  I will be haunted for days, perhaps weeks, and in a few cases months with thoughts that begin, "what if I had..."  The resolution to this is to stop thinking everything in the relationship can be changed by me. I can't control people.  If I even tried I would no longer be a pastor, I would be a cult leader.

Finally, to recognize again who I am serving.  Pastors work with people and it is easy to assume that we work for them.  I have to admit that the urge to be a "people pleaser" is pretty strong in me.  What's more, the denominational machine as well as the preacher brethren only seem to value numerical success.  "How many are you running in Sunday School?" could replace "Hello" as a standard greeting.  All of this can tempt a pastor to feel like a failure when people leave.  I think the flaw in this is forgetting that pastors don't serve people, or even churches, they are first and foremost the servants of God.  I know there is a danger with this sort of reasoning.  Some might think that means they have no accountability to anyone except God.  My feeling though is that most pastors won't fall into that trap.  Our natural tendency is so much in the other direction.

A few years back I heard a conference speaker say, "People come and people go, it is an ecclesiastical fact of life."  I assume this guy was trying to be comforting, but I personally hope I never get to the place that someone can leave the church and I simply don't care.  Will it happen again?  Well, short my untimely death, an abrupt career change, or the second coming of Jesus, yes it will.  I just hope that when it does I can remind myself then of who I work for.

A Clean Basement

I might as well admit it, I am somewhat compulsive about my basement.  I suppose at least three times per year I will go on a campaign to rearrange things, throw away things, and generally clean things.  Usually this will take two full days and will end with a sense of satisfaction and my wife commenting, "that looks nice."  It is a lot of work, but it generally has a subtle psychological effect upon me that makes it worth the effort.  For some reason getting my basement all straightened up and in order helps me to reorder my life.  I don't know why that is, but I know that it works that way.

Maybe it is because my basement, like my life, slowly gets disorganized and dusty and sometimes needs a thorough rearrangement.  Perhaps it is because I sometimes rummage around for things in my basement, making a mess, and then retreat to use whatever I have found.  I can see a parallel to the way that I sometimes hit things hard and then leave them.  What's more, since I have such a large basement I have had times when people have asked if they could "store" things there.  While I resist that generally I have gotten trapped into keeping everything from boxes to a boat, from furniture to flea market sales items.  All of that, even when it is done for a friend, leaves me a bit anxious, wondering when I will have "my" basement back the way that I want it.

Ok, I know that all of this may have you wondering about my psychological state, but I assure you it is well within the "normal" range.  If anything it is tending toward the positive right now since I have slowly been working on reorganizing and cleaning things over the last few days.  Maybe you are thinking of the sign which reads, "A clean desk is a sign of a sick mind."  Well, if that is true, what does a clean basement mean?