Aaron Menikoff, Fears of a New (and Young) Pastor

It finally happened. After years of prayer and preparation, on Sunday, June 15, 2008, I preached my first sermon as the pastor of Mount Vernon Baptist Church in Atlanta, Georgia. Both the church and the city are new to me. For years, my wife and I expected that we would end up in the Northwest. I even wrote a piece for Common Grounds to that end many months ago. God had different plans. He opened a door among a congregation here, and it seemed wise to enter. Now the journey begins.

What follows is an attempt to describe some of my fears as I embark upon this ministry. However, embedded in each fear is the anticipation that God will do something great.

First, the fear that I will preach better than I live. Over the years I have heard many seasoned pastors argue that the integrity demanded in their public sermons outstrips the integrity of their private lives. I understand the point. Though not finally authoritative themselves, pastors carry on the apostolic ministry of proclaiming Christ—they admonish and teach others (Colossians 1:28). This is a wonderful and profound responsibility. As God’s Word is expounded, one’s sinfulness is confronted by Christ’s holiness with the vigor of waves crashing against rocks on the seashore. Pastors will not be perfect, but they ought to be changed. As James wrote, “the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it—he will be blessed in what he does” (James 1:25).

We all know of shepherds whose lives have crumbled into moral ruins. When a pastor fails it is easy to think that the gospel failed. The stakes are high. I have neither the desire nor the intention to live in fear. Every Christian, pastors included, worships in Jerusalem not at the foot of Mt. Sinai (Galatians 4:24-31). Nonetheless, I aspire to live what I preach. Every pastor does. In the midst of this desire, I am acutely aware of my sin and my need for God’s Spirit to work within me and through me.

Second, the fear that I will muddy the truth. Theologians rightly point out the Bible is perspicuous—it is clear. This does not mean every passage makes immediate sense. We use the analogy of Scripture (the Bible interpreting the Bible) to understand God’s revelation as a whole. Nonetheless the Bible, in its entirety, is a coherent and compelling message. The last thing I want to do is stand between God’s revelation of Himself in Scripture and a congregation that is hungry to feed on God’s Word. I want to shed light not fog on the biblical text.

This can be hard. Some questions defy facile explanations. Scripture raises all sorts of serious questions that deserve serious answers. Why did God permit evil? How can I know I’m a Christian? It’s not that I feel I need to know all the answers, but at the very least I don’t want to muddy the truth.  I aspire above all else to make the gospel clear in my ministry. Lawyers understand case law, doctors anatomy. Pastors ought to understand the gospel. They ought to be able to teach the truth in such a way that it is clarified and not obscured.

A few days ago, a good friend of mine, Keith Goad, pointed me in the direction of a sermon by Gregory of Nazianzus , the fourth century church father. Nazianzus urged pastors—and himself—not to muddy the truth by trying to explain it in novel ways: “I pray that I may be like Solomon and avoid eccentricity in what I think and say about God.” This is my prayer. I’m not looking to carve out new territory in Atlanta. I’m seeking “to contend for the faith that was once for all entrusted to the saints” (Jude 3).

Third, the fear that I will be a better pastor than I am a husband and father. I have every intention of investing myself, body and mind, in this local congregation. I’ve accepted a serious responsibility that warrants significant time and effort. I want to make the most of this opportunity. Jesus is coming back and there is much work to be done. I do not want to embrace the role of the pastor at the cost of my family. I’m so thankful that the people at Mt. Vernon care deeply about the pastor’s whole life, not just his time behind the pulpit. However, I’m concerned about my own heart because I know myself. I know how easy it is to take for granted those who love you most.

I’m unusually thankful right now for a book Crossway published by Kent & Barbara Hughes entitled, Disciplines of a Godly Family.  It is full of wisdom for every family that is seeking to understand its importance. It is also unusually helpful to me because it was written by a pastor and his wife who just finished the journey my wife and I are beginning. My wife knows me better than anyone else. My children after her. I want to minister in their midst with the quiet confidence that they doubt neither my love nor my commitment to them.

Fourth, the fear that I will become a religious professional. In only one week of full-time pastoral ministry, I’ve already seen it. Publications come to the church targeted to the pastor. They come with tips on how to preach better, how to organize an effective Sunday school, and how to be a better leader. As best I can tell, the motivation for all of this is sound. Godly people want to be of service to pastors and through them the church.

The temptation on my end, however, is to see my ministry (and I’m borrowing from John Piper’s little book, Brothers, We are Not Professionals) “professionalized.” In a “professional” ministry the church becomes a schedule of events instead of the body of Christ. In a “professional” ministry a pastor seeks the accolades of his peers instead of the humility that comes with carrying his cross and following Christ. In a “professional” ministry the health of your church is directly equated to Sunday morning’s church attendance. In a “professional” ministry a pastor feels accomplished when papers have been shuffled and emails returned.

There is nothing wrong with a clean desk and an empty email box. But again I know my heart. I know the temptation that exists to fill my schedule with that which is easy to do instead of that which is most beneficial to the local church. I want to see a congregation that even more clearly delights in Christ, loves to serve, and is eager to evangelize. I long to see a congregation generous with money, time, and encouragement. A professional ministry builds itself around the pastor and his schedule. A faithful ministry builds into a congregation of men and women who have been redeemed by Christ. I aspire to the latter but I am aware of the allure of the former.

Fifth, the fear that I will disappoint the church. Nobody wants to be a disappointment. There is however something particularly unsettling about the public nature of pastoral ministry. One’s strengths and weaknesses are evident for all to see. Moreover congregations rightly have great expectations for new pastors. Pastors cannot run from these expectations, but the pressure to serve and please man can be overwhelming. This temptation is not as strong in the halcyon days of a fledgling ministry. However, as the weeks turn into months and the months years, as the freshness of a new ministry wears off and a young pastor’s faults become as pronounced as his gifts, I can only imagine that the temptation to please others will grow.

In the meantime, I remind myself that I will disappoint the church. To the extent that some people have false expectations for a pastor, disappointment is inevitable. Jesus disappointed some with His refusal to establish an earthly kingdom. He had something much better in store for His people.

Many times, I will disappoint others not because I did the right thing but because I am a sinner in need of a Savior. I pray that during those times especially, it would be clear to them and to me that Christ never disappoints, that He is always worthy of complete trust, and that the church of which He is the head will never be defeated. I want to be a part of that. That is why, fear and all, I’m so thankful not only that God has seen fit to lead me into pastoral ministry but that Mount Vernon has seen fit to make me its pastor.

Comments

[Lois Westerlund]

What a spiritually healthy list of fears! Thank you for this. If we lived closer to Atlanta, you would see me on Sunday morning! Your last fear--fear of disappointing the church, however, is not like the others, for when it comes to this fear you see the trap embodied in the fear. The other fears seem to me of the sort that suggest another and final fear--that you will stop fearing! But the last one is a fear that you already see as a temptation. Your great post put me in mind of this quotation of Jonathan Edwards, which John Piper quoted in his recent sermon on Psalm 51:
All gracious affections [feelings, emotions] that are a sweet [aroma] to Christ . . . are brokenhearted affections. A truly Christian love, either to God or men, is a humble brokenhearted love. The desires of the saints, however earnest, are humble desires: their hope is a humble hope; and their joy, even when it is unspeakable, and full of glory, is a humble brokenhearted joy. . . . (Religious Affections [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1959], pp. 339f.)

Thanks again for a refreshing post!

[Mark Lamprecht]

Wonderful post. Thank you so much for your clearness, honesty and openness.

I pray we don't disappointed the pastor.

Mark

[lucy]

What is the a spiritually healthy list of fears! Thank you for this. If we lived closer to Atlanta, you would see me on Sunday morning! Your last fear disappointing the church, however, is not like the others, for when it comes to this fear you see the trap embodied in the fear

lucy
_______________________________
Christian Drug Rehab
http://www.christian-drug-rehab.org