TRENDS IN PASTORAL CARE - Christianity Today

In 1960, the proportion of children living with a single parent was a mere 10 percent. Now their ranks have risen to 25 percent.

Seventy-seven percent of all middle-level executives spend 50 or more hours per week on their jobs. And 26 percent of executives spend more than 60 hours per week.

Nearly half (46 percent) of all marriages today are remarriages for one or both partners.

Each day pastors read in their newspapers statistics such as these. And in their offices, they see some of the people represented by them. In the midst of such turbulent social change, how can a minister provide pastoral care? What does it mean to shepherd a congregation in the nineties?

To find out, LEADERSHIP went to a well-known church consultant and three pastors from differing regions. Here they offer their thoughts, first, on how the very role of the care-giving pastor has changed, and then on how they have adapted their pastoral care to these changing times.

The Changing Caregiver

by Lyle Schaller

Many changes have made pastoral ministry more difficult than it was a generation ago (despite the widespread increases in pastoral salaries and fringe benefits). Three changes that particularly produce stress come from changes in the minister’s role.

From shepherd to leader. The old image of the pastor as a shepherd who knew every sheep by name, who instantly missed any who strayed, who was omnipresent, and who also was an evangelist (John 10:1-17) was widely taught and loyally followed for generations.

Today, however, a growing number of congregations have expanded that list of expectations. Many pastors are asked to be not only a shepherd, but also daily manager of a complex organization, a creative leader who can initiate attractive new ministries, the chief fiscal officer, a persuasive pulpiteer, a magnetic teacher, an expert on youth ministries, and a personable community leader who reinforces a positive image of that congregation.

In the 1950s, what people wanted was a minister who was competent in the pulpit and effective in one-to-one relationships. Today, that faithful shepherd is in much less demand than is the dynamic and skilled leader.

From shepherd to competitor. During the 1950s, it was widely assumed that numerical growth or decline in a congregation was largely a product of external factors, particularly demographic changes. The small church in a stable, rural community was expected to remain on a plateau in size, and it usually did. The new mission in a growing suburban neighborhood was expected to grow, and it usually did. The power of external factors in church growth was still being affirmed in the late 1970s and even into the early 1980s.

Today, however, widespread agreement exists that population increases do not automatically result in numerical growth for churches. Some churches grow rapidly as a result of population increases, while others remain on a plateau, and a few shrink. Since population growth does not automatically trigger church growth for all congregations, it usually means the level of competition among the churches rises. That popular term “high potential” usually should be translated by pastors to mean “higher competition.”

Consider, for example, a congregation that is evaluated on a 0-l00 scale in terms of the pastor, the physical facilities, the missionary and evangelistic outreach, the financial base, and the scope of the program. In 1970 a score of 80 not only was a passing grade, but it also probably was sufficiently high to produce a modest net growth in membership.

But the community that was experiencing 1 percent annual increase in population in the late 1960s and early 1970s is now reporting a 3 percent annual increase. As a result, several new churches are being organized. Two or three have relocated to new, larger, and more attractive meeting places. Several other congregations have expanded facilities, increased program staff, and added programs. The same characteristics that produced that score of 80, in 1970, now yield a grade of 65-and a grade of 85 is required to grow numerically in that community today. The level of competition has gone up substantially!

Who is the scapegoat when the numerically growing congregation of 1970 finds itself to be shrinking as the population climbs more rapidly? For many, the obvious answer is the pastor. The care-giving shepherd is in many cases being asked to assume the role of a skillful competitor.

From shepherd to teacher. A final shift in the pastor’s role can be seen in how congregations respond to pressure to improve their teaching ministry.

For several decades, a congregation usually responded to calls for educational improvement by expanding the Sunday school, creating new Bible studies, employing a professional in Christian education, training volunteers in pedagogical skills, or perhaps constructing a new educational wing.

That’s because once upon a time the Sunday school superintendent was the chief educator. Today it is far more likely to be the pastor.

When new members are questioned about why they chose this particular congregation, many of the people born after the Second World War don’t lift up geographical convenience or the denominational label or the attractive building. They affirm the teaching ministry in general and the teaching ability of the minister in particular. As a result, commonly the pastor’s class offered during the Sunday school hour not only has the largest attendance of any class but also is the biggest entry point for new members.

A number of reasons could be advanced for the shift from shepherd to leader, competitor, and teacher. Two of these new roles stem from societal changes, including people’s preferences for larger congregations, increased competition for discretionary time, inflation, the gradual disappearance of the most loyal and church-going generation in American history (those born in the 1910-30 era), the expansion of weekday programming, the erosion of the concept of a geographical parish, the decline in the power of institutional loyalties, and an increase in paid staff.

Regardless of the causes, however, for many pastors these three roles-leader, competitor, and teacher-consume far more time and energy than did the popular equivalents of the 1960s: enabler, cooperator, shepherd.

-Lyle Schaller is a parish consultant on the staff of the Yokefellow Institute, Richmond, Indiana.

Caring for the Cocooned

by Steven L. McKinley

It was one of those rare evenings when everyone in the family was free. No meetings. No classes. No lessons. No social engagements. A free evening. I looked forward to a leisurely dinner, a stroll with my wife, an “Uno” game for the whole family, maybe even a viewing of all of “L.A. Law.”

Then our insurance agent called and said it was time to review our family’s coverage. I like our insurance agent, and I recognize the importance of reviewing the coverage. So we scheduled him to come on that free evening. But I resented it. I wanted my free time and my privacy. I resented the loss of that quiet evening at home with the family. I really didn’t want the insurance agent to come.

I sense that many people today feel the same way about pastoral visits in the home.

The cocooning culture. I serve a youthful, suburban congregation; approximately 80 percent of the families have school-aged children. In most homes, both parents are employed. Children and parents keep up a dizzying schedule of community activities, athletic events, aerobics classes, church groups, music lessons, night-school classes, and on and on.

All the time, they are trying to keep up a high-quality family life. Free evenings with everyone at home are as rare for them as for me. According to the Harris Poll, the average American in 1973 had 26.2 hours of leisure time each week. In 1988, however, that average American had only 16.6 hours of leisure time.

There is a long and venerable tradition of pastoral visits in the home. That tradition has served the church well for many years. But in a culture like the one I live in, pastoral calling has become problematic. It takes diplomat-level negotiation skills to schedule a visit around the basketball games, business trips, tuba lessons. Scout meetings, aerobics classes, bowling leagues, and trips to the lake. That scheduling often requires a number of telephone messages left on answering machines, both mine and theirs.

Even if I can schedule a visit, will it be welcomed, or will it be resented? Many of the busy people we serve prefer to use that precious free time to “cocoon” in their homes and shut out the outside world. While people may like and respect their pastor, they will not necessarily eagerly give up an evening in the solitary comfort of the cocoon for conversation with the pastor.

How I respond. Recognizing this dilemma, I don’t do as much calling in the home as did earlier generations of pastors. When there is a situation of identified need, I am diligent in making the call. But I don’t do much old-fashioned calling. I have to be alert to other opportunities for communicating pastoral concern. Here are some of the methods I’ve come up with:

1. The telephone. There are days when I would like to rip the phone out of the wall. Nevertheless, I’ve found the telephone a great help in keeping in touch with people. Chet, for example, is typically busy as the president of his company. He is also the treasurer of the congregation. That makes it necessary for us to talk regularly on the telephone. Of course, we spend some time talking church business, but we also talk about families, about the pressures Chet is under at work, about the difficulty of applying faith to daily life. I haven’t been inside Chet’s home in several years. But he knows I care about him.

2. The supermarket. One management concept these days is called “management by walking around.” Across the street from our church is a major supermarket where I do “ministry by walking around.”

At any given time, I can meet a few parishioners there. Stopping for milk can take an hour. When I meet someone I know, I’m ready to stop by the pet-food display and lean on my cart and chat for a while. I make it a point to go past the counter where Diane is handing out pizza samples, not only to wolf down a mini-slice or two, but also to talk with her about her chaotic home situation. Being the unofficial chaplain of the supermarket is one way I communicate pastoral concern.

3. The early-morning breakfast. Leonard is a high-powered business owner who is an astute counselor when it comes to the financial management of the congregation. He also has major family problems. We are both “morning people,” so we’ll meet for breakfast at 6:30 in a local restaurant. Before we’re finished, his secretary will probably be in with letters for him to sign or documents for him to take to an 8:00 meeting. But over breakfast, he shares his struggles, personal and professional.

4. The parking lot. The committee meeting ends. Slowly we make our way to our cars. Hank seems to be hanging back a bit. I fall in step with him and gently ask how things are going. Hank is concerned about the circle of friends his teen-aged daughter is taking up with. I know his daughter from confirmation class. We spend thirty minutes leaning on our cars while we wrestle with his concerns. I probably do as much counseling in the church parking lot as I do in my office.

5. Work parties. Last Saturday was Clean-Up Day at church-another opportunity for “ministry by walking around.” I kept a dust cloth in my hand to look respectable, but I spent most of the time circulating among the workers. Joan was dusting the pews. We talked about her son’s continuing battle with cancer. Down the hall, Jack was painting a classroom. As we shared a cup of coffee, he commented that it was good to be working, but he found his mind jumping to Monday, when he would have to fire two people in his department because of budget cuts. We talked about the pain of holding responsibility in a corporation. Betty, busily washing windows, was concerned about her son’s special-education program at school. Our daughter is in the same program. We shared thoughts. And so it went. By the time the morning was over, I’d done little clean-up work, but I’d done a lot of pastoring.

6. Community occasions. I coach baseball with Dick. Dick isn’t a member of our church, but I get the feeling he considers me his pastor. Dick is a Vietnam veteran on permanent psychological disability. The demons of Vietnam still rattle around inside of him. He goes back to the VA hospital with depressing regularity.

When our team is in the field, we sit on the bench and talk. Of course, a good part of the time we talk baseball, but some of the time we simply talk life. Dick wants to be a good husband and a positive model for his sons, but it is hard for him. I try to encourage him, because it appears to me that he is doing a better job than he will give himself credit for. Dick knows his head isn’t completely right, but the hospital trips have become less frequent. Slowly Dick is beginning to believe there just might be a God of grace with enough forgiveness even for him. I’ve never been inside Dick’s home. The baseball field is the arena of my ministry with him.

I don’t want to suggest that I’m some super-pastor. I’m not. I’m an ordinary parish pastor trying to care for people. The people I meet are busy often and sometimes harassed. When they get a night or day “off,” they hunger for peace and quiet, time with their family, time to sit back and do nothing. They aren’t eager for anyone to visit, even the pastor. But they are still people with hurts and heartaches, people in need of pastoral concern, in need of discussing the adventure of Christian living.

So I settle for the telephone, the supermarket, the restaurant, the parking lot, the scaffolding, the baseball field-those places where we do come together. Because I do take advantage of those opportunities, the people of this congregation know-at least, I hope they know-that they have a church that cares about them, a pastor who cares about them, and, above all, a God who loves them.

-Steven L. McKinley is pastor of Grace Lutheran Church in Anoka, Minnesota.

Caring for the Specialized Needy

by Knute Larson

On a given evening of the week you can walk into our church building and go past a support group for people with eating disorders, a meeting for alcohol or drug abusers, and a study for professional women. Sunday evenings after church there is an ACOA group-for adult children of alcoholics.

Last Sunday I met a man, and soon after he told me his name, he said, “I’m a bulimic.”

I’d never heard the word in 1966, nor its cousin term, anorexic. And here is a man who identifies himself that way, right after his name.

It’s another world.

In 1968 the little plaque on the pastor’s desk said VISITATION IS CHURCH BUILDER No. 1, and that is what we did: visited. The pastor was much more a shepherd than a counselor. Going to a Bill Gothard seminar in the mid-seventies and reading Wayne Oates’s book on counseling seemed like enough training for the amount of intense, specialized problems that came our way.

Now, several of us on our staff could go into counseling full-time if we wished. If they ask in Hollywood, “Who’s your therapist?” in our church some may ask, “Which staff member do you go to for counseling?”

The increasing demand for specialized counseling, rather than general wise shepherding, has led us to take three major steps:

Establishing professional standards. With the specialized needs have come high expectations for professional care-and occasionally, lawsuits if those expectations aren’t met. Now, everyone on staff who does any amount of counseling must have training, be insured, and follow a code of ethics for who he meets with, for how long, and why.

Setting limits. Counseling takes a lot of time. Our challenge is to know how much to limit it. Recently six staff people, most of whom counsel for five to fifteen hours per week, met to discuss just how deeply we can and should get into counseling. The discussion quickly turned to training lay counselors to do much of the encouragement work at least. But in our new world, a pastor almost has to establish guidelines for the amount of time given to counseling.

Increasing support, training, and prevention. To help people before it’s too late, and to reduce the counseling load, we increasingly have to provide support and training programs. This is especially true in the area of family life.

In 1966, there was little material to guide families, and the specialists weren’t nationally known. James Dobson’s books were yet to be written. Divorces were surprises then. (When my own parents divorced in the early fifties, it was an oddity whispered about at church. They dropped out.) You assumed someone’s marriage was fine and proceeded with other subjects. Now I ask often, sometimes with a smile and sometimes to get to what seems obvious: “How’s your marriage?”

So we provide many more supports now. Our parenting-of-teens courses are among our most popular, and the support group for blended families helps a growing number of people. Single parents, once an oddity, now have their own large and growing fellowship in our Sunday school. We sponsor divorce-recovery workshops, provide counseling for children of the broken home, and talk about marriage and divorce constantly.

We’re always grappling with questions like these: How can we help this family? Who will contact the person involved in marriage failure but unwilling to talk? How much should our young-adult classes emphasize teaching on marriage and family? Recently I asked (with only half a smile) a teacher of younger adults, “When will they ever learn Ezekiel?”

Better back then? People often talk about the good old days. Personally, I would rather be here now. The challenge of pastoral care is so huge today that the need for our Lord’s message and lifestyle is so much more obvious.

-Knute Larson is pastor of The Chapel in Akron, Ohio.

Caring for the Overextended

by Wayne Jacobsen

I could tell he was losing his heart for church responsibilities. His name’s not important; the names of probably a dozen people I’ve known in the last few years would fit the same story.

He came to our church hungry for God to use him. His zeal for God and his spiritual maturity opened opportunities for leadership, and he responded enthusiastically. Ever so subtly, however, his passion began to fade. Meetings he had attended with eagerness before, he now had to be pushed to attend. His participation was weak and lethargic.

I knew why: He wasn’t as hungry for God as he used to be. He was putting the attractions of the world ahead of his relationship to God and the church.

The more I encouraged him to persevere, the more he faded. I applied some pressure to help him meet his commitments, and finally, I was able to increase his attendance at the meetings where I needed him.

Then he asked for a leave of absence from his leadership responsibilities. Pressures from work, home, and church had combined with health problems to wear him down. He was meeting everyone’s expectations but losing the joy of his relationship with God. He hadn’t lost his heart for God at all, I discovered. It only had been buried beneath an avalanche of pressures and expectations.

Instead of helping him find a way out of that pressure, I almost had destroyed him. My encouragements to keep pressing on only had added to his problem.

Running ourselves ragged. Being overextended is endemic to our culture. The pressures of this age push people to the edge of their time, finances, and energy. Not long ago, Time emblazoned on its cover, “The Rat Race-How America Is Running Itself Ragged.” People in churches are no exception. We’ve heard their cries: “I know this doesn’t sound like a big deal, but on top of everything else I’m facing, I don’t feel I can handle it.”

Perhaps no greater challenge awaits us in church ministry than to free the overextended from the pressures of this age (including our zealousness to see the church succeed). By doing so, we release them to productive involvement in the kingdom of God.

The real issue. When I see how people sacrifice for a career or new home, I yearn for them to give the same energy to deepening their spiritual life. I’ve often thought how effective our congregation would be if people showed the same commitment to God they do to their softball team.

Last year I found out what that’s like. Our softball team had to forfeit two games because not enough players showed up. Seriously, in the nine years I’ve been at The Savior’s Community, we’ve had some forfeits, too-meetings without enough people or the right people.

Without thinking it through, my counterstrategy emerged. If the world could pressure people into forfeiting their life in Christ, shouldn’t the Word of God with even greater pressure lead them to what’s right? Where the world lured them with money, I dazzled them with the promise of spiritual gifts and ministry. Where they were pressured by others, I challenged them with accountability before God. I made the church a competitor with the world.

But even when I got the response I was looking for, it was without heart, and hence, ineffective.

That’s when I realized that overextended people are not healthy people. Most are driven by insecurity. The quest for success may be only an attempt to prove worth, pleasing people an attempt to avoid rejection, busyness an attempt to bury hurt.

But if I, too, use those insecurities-even to lead people to church service-I lose by winning. I make the church one more source of pressure. How does that help them become more like Christ?

In contrast, Jesus addressed people’s insecurities and disarmed the pressures that drove them. I didn’t need to compete for people’s time and affection. Instead I could help the church provide what the world cannot-rest, peace, joy, and fruitfulness.

Nothing distracts people more from the fullness of life in Christ than busyness and weariness. So what is making them overextended is not the issue; the fact that they are overextended is.

This realization gave me a different basis for dealing with overextended people. Since pressure is the problem, it therefore cannot be the solution. I had to find another way to call people to the depths of the Christian life. Here is where I am beginning.

Lower expectations for church activity. In our age, how much time and energy can the church and its leaders reasonably expect from people?

None.

Whereas Jesus as Lord and Master has the right to every second of their day, I, as a pastor, have no personal right to even one. That difficult conclusion began to give me freedom to help. I didn’t need to be offended personally when people failed my expectations. Leadership is not ownership.

When the focus is on freeing people to love God, service attendance is a nonissue. Recently a new member of our congregation, who had come from a more legalistic one, had missed a couple of Sunday services. One day she started to explain to my co-pastor why she hadn’t been there.

Mark interrupted her. “Were you sick or hurting?”

“No.”

“Is there some crisis going on that could use our help?”

“No, our family was away on a trip.”

“Belinda, if you didn’t miss because of some crisis or hurt, then it really isn’t my business, is it?”

That’s not to say we’re not interested in people’s trips and don’t miss them when they’re not here, but it was obvious Belinda felt pressure to have a good reason to miss. When she told me this story, Belinda was still elated at the freedom that brief conversation had conveyed to her.

We’ve worked to develop a simplified church program. Our hope is that our essential objectives-intimacy with Christ, community with other believers, and mission to the world-can be met by each believer giving three hours a week of regular participation.

We have many activities, but we make it absolutely clear that most are extras for those who want to take advantage of them. We need to leave time in people’s lives for prayer and also for reaching out to the world. I want parents to feel they have time to be at the PTA, office picnic, and family reunion.

Teach and model the need for rest. David spoke of the Shepherd’s leading his flock to quiet waters. Isaiah said that “in repentance and rest is your salvation; in quietness and trust is your salvation.” Jesus regularly withdrew to isolated places and beckoned weary refugees of the world with the promise, “I will give you rest.”

If we’re going to motivate and help people, we have to lead them to the quiet. How scary that sounds! Won’t people misuse that freedom, we wonder, to indulge their own desires? I realize that certainly some will, but pressuring those people has never accomplished anything anyway.

If we’re going to help the overextended, we must stop rewarding its practice. Burned-out people always look their best the day before they crash. They are so willing and helpful; I used to see them as the epitome of zealous believers. I ignored the warning signs of complaints, loss of heart, and a family crying out for them.

Now I’m not so swift to reward those who seem a blur in the night. I question people to see if their busyness is really springing from freedom, or if it’s a cover for a deeper need. At times we’ve encouraged volunteers not to come because we knew they were overextended.

My own example. Modeling is our most important tool. If busyness is the merit badge of leadership and burnout the proof of a job well done, people will strive for them. I’m watching my schedule with greater diligence.

I admit I’m learning the value of pruning. Having grown up on a grape ranch, I should understand that. Each year we pruned our vines back to five good canes, out of which next year’s crop would grow. If we didn’t cut off the other forty-five perfectly good canes, we would have had the lushest-looking vines in the Valley-but no fruit.

Teach people to live beneath their resources. Finally, my goal of ministering to the overextended is not reached when I get them to live within their limits. Biblically, we are not allowed to live on the edge of our energy, time, or resources, for if we do, what have we left to share with others?

Not all the ministry needs around my life fit nicely into my calendar. How many times I’ve passed opportunities I wish I could have responded to, but given the limits of my time and energy, I had to refuse! I hope to teach the overextended to live away from the edge of their limitations. God doesn’t want every nickel we make and every minute we have to be invested in getting by. Usually, the most significant ministry opportunities call for action at a critical moment. To be available for others, we must provide a cushion in our time and money.

Helping people move away from the overextended spirit of this age is a reward all its own. Slowly, haggard looks are replaced by calm ones. With people’s new-found freedom comes a genuine joy that always makes me shake my head in wonder.

-Wayne Jacobsen is pastor of The Savior’s Community in Visalia, California.

Caring for the Coming Generation

by Lyle E. Schaller

Many of today’s ministers developed a high level of skill in relating to the young people of the 1960s, or to the teenagers of the 1970s and early 1980s. Today’s churches are being challenged to serve a new generation of teenagers who come with a different agenda.

This new generation, replacing the counterculture population of the 1960s, includes those born in 1968 and later. Today they range in age from 12 to 22. Few have any firsthand memories of the Vietnam War. John F. Kennedy is an ancient historical figure, not a contemporary hero.

Once upon a time, for those who rebelled against parental admonitions, school was the socializing institution. For others, that need was filled by a youth group at church.

Today, however, the school has been replaced as the primary post-family socializing environment. By what?

The part-time job or the car. In 1978, 13 percent of teenagers owned a car; in 1989, 36 percent did.

The criminal justice system.

Television.

What James Coleman has labeled “the adolescent society.”

In 1975, the high school administrators and teachers could be viewed as allies by the adult leaders of that church youth group. They shared many of the same values, goals, and hopes. Today, the leaders of the church youth group often have two choices. They can concentrate their energies on that one-third of the teenage population who share their cultural and religious values. Or they can try to compete with the contemporary youth culture that shares few of those traditional values.

In other words, ministry with that generation born after 1967 is far more difficult, complex, and frustrating than was ministry with any previous generation youth leaders encountered.