- Donald Shoff: Why I Threw Out My Old Sermons
- Fred Smith: Questions to Ask at Midlife
- Jack Hayford: Your Season of Ministry
WHY I THREW OUT MY OLD SERMONS
I had a choice: grow or quit.
Donald G. Shoff
My wife, Judy, and I came home following another typically dead and poorly attended Sunday evening service. We drove into the garage, hit the button, and listened as the garage door closed. We sat quiet in the darkness for several minutes.
Finally, I said, “Honey, is this the end of the line? Am I too old to minister effectively anymore?”
Without hesitation she answered, “Yes, I think you are. But it doesn’t have to do with your age. Your preaching puts people to sleep. You rarely get excited about anything. You don’t feel anything deeply anymore. You’re dead, and you’re killing the church.
“You used to preach with power. Now you are just mouthing words. The people are bored. I’m bored. You’re bored. You need to put your heart and soul into serving this church or resign and let them find someone who can.”
I knew she was right. I could no longer blame the board or the people. I was the problem.
In retrospect, Judy’s rebuke was the most loving gift she has given me. Sometime between our talk in the garage and sunrise the next morning, I took a step that turned my ministry around.
SERMON TRASHING
I had come from a larger church to this congregation, which at the time was made up almost entirely of young couples. They were thrilled to have a pastor with “maturity.” I was excited about the potential for growth. It soon became apparent, however, that we both were wrong.
I preached the same sermons here that had been effective in my previous pastorate. But here the people yawned and looked at their watches. We shared the same theological tradition, but not the same values or culture.
The few who joined the church simply filled the spaces of those who left. Board meetings were rituals of frustration. We spent hours discussing a minor issue and then would table it, for the third time. We agreed we had a problem but couldn’t agree on how to fix it. Eventually, half the board resigned and left to begin a new church.
I was in my early fifties. It should have been my most effective time of ministry, but it was my least effective. I took pride that every church I had pastored flourished; this one was dying.
A few hours after Judy’s stinging rebuke, I recalled the story of a Swiss mountain climber who died in a climbing accident. They placed a simple monument to him at the base of the mountain that read, HE died climbing.
I wrote in my diary that night, “By the grace of God, I’ll die climbing.”
I stood in the driveway the next morning and watched as every sermon I had written in my thirty years in the pastorate was irreverently dumped into the trash truck. I would either begin growing again or leave the ministry. Now that decision was sealed.
WHITE-HOT PREACHING
Initially, my decision to grow led to frustration. I wanted to move forward, but I didn’t know how.
Over the months I developed a strategy for growth stated in the form of commitments. In the first commitment, I determined that preaching would be a priority. I had been pulling sermons out of the file. These people haven’t heard it, I reasoned. Unknowingly, I was short-circuiting an essential part of preaching.
As a butterfly’s struggle to free itself from the cocoon gives color to its wings, so the struggle of study gives a sermon beauty and life. I determined I would not preach anything that did not first grip me. As a result, I’ve cut short a few series that went comatose.
But seeing the Holy Spirit bring lasting change through the ministry of the Word has become a delight beyond words.
The next step came from a growing awareness I was in a mental rut. I had unknowingly taken the “union card” approach to education; I stopped growing intellectually when I graduated from seminary. I decided to make intellectual growth a lifelong pursuit.
When the board of elders included a “professional development” line in the budget, I enrolled in a Doctor of Ministry program. This move was threatening. I wasn’t sure I could do the required work or sure I wanted to try. I wondered about the sanity of any man in his fifties who would begin such a project.
During this period of indecision, I came across a note in my journal: “By the grace of God, I’ll die climbing.” Five years later, I walked across the platform and received the degree.
The joy came not only because an arduous journey had been completed but because a journey of intellectual growth had begun. In the discipline of the doctoral program, I discovered firsthand what several current studies are saying: lack of mental agility is due to laziness more than to aging.
HEALTHY HABITS
Another area was health. Through the years I exercised sporadically. Now, twenty pounds overweight, how could I admonish the flock about self-discipline? I committed to improving my physical well-being.
Vigorous health provides the energy to engage in strenuous ministry. I find this commitment even more important now that we have three Sunday morning services.
Finally, I made a commitment to seek cultural relevancy. A few years ago, I rejected even the suggestion of contemporary praise choruses on Sunday morning, thinking I was contending for the faith. I didn’t realize I was contending for my culture. I love the grandeur of an organ, the beauty of a robed choir, and the theological depth of old hymns; I can’t understand why the whole world doesn’t share my tastes. But it doesn’t. And if I want to minister effectively, I must put other people’s needs before mine. I have to learn to speak another language.
Effectiveness in ministry over 50 is linked to an ability to, like Paul, “become all things to all men so that by all means I might save some” (1 Cor. 9:22).
Immanuel Kant wrote his best philosophical works at 74. Tennyson wrote “Crossing the Bar” at 80. Michelangelo completed his greatest work of art at 87. Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes set down some of his most brilliant opinions at 90. George Bernard Shaw won the Nobel Prize at 69.
The psalmist captured what has become the desire of my life: “They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green” (Ps. 92:14).
QUESTIONS TO ASK AT MIDLIFE
Essential queries when pondering a move.
Fred Smith
I see life as a two-stage rocket. The first stage is physical: We’ve got energy. We’ve got ambition. We’ve got drive. We’ve got the unscratchable itch.
Then we accomplish something and start feeling comfortable; sometime in our forties, the rocket loses its propulsion. Our trajectory begins to flatten out.
At midlife, it’s critical that the second stage, the spiritual stage, fires. Often it is triggered by making a change—within the same career or to a different one. Whenever someone at midlife tells me he or she wants to make a change, I suggest the person ask four, self-diagnostic questions:
- Am I bored? Many in midlife are bored; that’s why they want to move to another church or switch careers. When people tell me they want change, I say, “You mean that more of the same is not satisfactory?”
- Am I challenged? Some want change because they need a higher hill to climb. I watched a midlife pastor move into missions because of his unusual ability in cross-cultural evangelism. To maximize a special gift, he changed his course in life. In reality, he was specializing. Changing jobs to accept a greater challenge is ideal. But before making the change, make sure your past experience is a close match with the challenge.
- Am I tempted by fantasy? A young preacher told me, “I’m going to build the biggest church in our denomination.” I asked, “How many did you have Sunday?” “Eighty-seven.” “How long have you been there? “Two years.” “How do you preach?” I asked. “I am a great preacher. I deliver a mean sermon.” “You’re fantasizing,” I said. “In this area, a great preacher would be drawing more than eighty-seven after two years.” Fantasy is always a temptation when thinking about a change. Someone who believes a new setting will be easier or more exciting, or a place that appreciates him or her more, is living in fantasy.
- Am I confronted by reality? If the board says, “We’re not going to pay you any more,” that’s reality. Change is inevitable.
EVALUATION
At midlife, we also need to evaluate our resources. But doing so ourselves is difficult. We need an objective person to help us assess several things:
- Experience and skill. Dr. Richard Ramesh, a professor at Dallas Theological Seminary, came up with a “stars and scars map” of the past—the stars of accomplishments and the scars of failure. You create this map by looking back over your life and identifying what you did well and what gave you satisfaction. In general, people will not work long and hard at something they don’t enjoy. They may do it for a short time as a discipline but not for a sustained period. I recently worked through a plan with a president of a company who wanted to make a change. I asked him, “What is your power—your experience, contacts, natural bent, and skills?” That question became the basis for a realistic plan for change. A psychological counselor told me, “I am not able to earn a Ph.D. Getting my master’s degree was all the education I could handle.” His learning skills limited his options. But his clear-headed understanding of his skills helped him choose the right option.
- Associations. A college teacher told me he wanted to go into business. “Why?” I asked. “To make more money,” he said. “Do you realize the associations you’ll have to give up?” I said. “Business people are not academicians.” Nor are people in the retail industry the same type as those in the steel industry. I tell college students, “When you search for a job, look at the kind of people in the industry. Do you like the associations?”
- Unused talent. One of the top producers for a large New York life insurance company is a woman who started in a small Texas town. Her husband became disabled, so she was forced to look for work. She got a job selling insurance, which she had never done before, and became successful. Unused talent may be seen in a hobby. I’ve known people who turned their hobby in woodworking or cars into a full-time job. The important question: “Is my unused talent marketable?”
- Opportunity. If there are no viable opportunities and you want to make a change, you are up that infamous creek with no oar. This is where people who say, “Just trust the Lord, and it will all work out” operate irresponsibly. The phrase “If you build it, they will come” works in the movies, but it’s a lousy principle for making a living.
- Capital. A person wanting to make a midlife correction must ask, “Do I have the capital?” Are you willing to borrow on your collateral? Are you willing to take a cut in pay while making the transition?
- Effect on others. I bumped into an acquaintance and asked, “How are you doing?” “I’m moving,” he said. “Where?” “To a large metro area on the East Coast.” “Do you like those kinds of towns?” I asked. “I hate them.” “Why are you going, then?” “Because I’m getting twice the money.” “Your wife and children will really appreciate that,” I said. “They’ll hate every minute there.” I cannot be so selfish that I don’t consider how change will affect others, especially my family.
THE LONG TERM
Whatever change we make, we are exchanging the minutes and hours and days of our lives for our choice. We must ask, “What accomplishment is worth swapping my life for?”
Those wanting to make a midlife career move need to beware: Anything new will likely seem rewarding. But will it still be five years later? When it becomes routine, will it still be fulfilling?
Another question is, “What will grow after I’m gone?” One is family; my family will always be more significant than I could be. If three children and six grandchildren can’t exceed my accomplishments, we’re all in trouble! Another thing I want to grow after I’m gone is the organization: Am I leaving an organization that will continue?
Another long-term consideration is, “How would I like people to remember me?” Every month for the past three years I’ve been meeting with a group of about twenty young CEOs. Recently I decided they ought to be on their own, so I told them I wouldn’t be coming back for a while. One day they asked me back and presented me with a chunk of Baccarat glass. On it was etched HE stretched us.
A final consideration is, “What do I want on my tombstone?” This is not a meaningless exercise, but an opportunity to let our ideal epitaph govern the second half of life.
YOUR SEASON OF MINISTRY
How God has ordained time.
Jack Hayford
One morning during devotions I sensed an unusually tender presence of God. From the Holy Spirit I gained perspective on the remaining years of my life. I saw our human journey in four, twenty-year seasons (Ps. 90:10).
Winter. During our first twenty years, our bodies and minds make their foundational points of growth, but for the most part we are still beginners in our earthly sojourn. The true influence of the soul is being readied to be made.
Spring. Between 20 and 40, the things that will eventually grow into fruit begin to develop. Most people conclude their formal education and launch their lifetime vocation. Many marry and begin families. This is the seed-sowing time of life. Springtime will likely determine what kind of harvest will be garnered in years to come (Gal. 6:7, 8).
Summer. I used to think whoever coined “Life begins at 40” was probably whistling in the dark—trying to console himself. But I’ve recently concluded life’s third twenty-year segment, and I can say that around age 40, there is a distinct turning point in life’s unfolding drama. Our firstfruit begins to be harvested. During our forties and fifties, what we have “been becoming” increasingly reveals itself.
For example, in my forties and fifties, I found that the earlier years of study in God’s Word began to return a wealth I hadn’t anticipated—a richer grasp of things eternal and a new depth of preaching. This is only a sample of life’s wealth the summer years can bring (Luke 12:15b).
Autumn. As with the natural world, life’s harvest begins in summer and climaxes in the fall. Our sixties and seventies can only be described by autumn—the season of magnificent color and splendid holidays. No lovelier season colors our calendar. No happier times are scheduled than those at home with friends and family during the bright days of October, Thanksgiving in November, and Christmas in December.
At 61, I am anything but feeling old. Autumn’s joys are just beginning. I am discovering the wisdom and delight of building new relationships. For example, I am intentionally working at cultivating acquaintances with leaders of color. I want to contribute to relationships that model the spirit of reconciliation the Holy Spirit is seeking to bring throughout the multi-ethnic body of Christ (2 Cor. 5:18).
Winter (again). The final years are winter again; we’re gradually moving toward our term as a biological being. During winter, deciduous trees often reveal another order of beauty, many with leaves still remaining, though fewer, crisply curled, definitely drier, and with less color than autumn. Other trees stand gray and stark against the landscape but with a distinct splendor revealed by their more clearly revealed, heavenward-reaching limbs.
There is nothing dour or dead about winter, but it concludes the cycle of seasons. It brings a happy reminder: “Blessed is the man … [who delights] in the Law of the Lord … He shall be like a tree … whose leaf also shall not wither, and whatever he does shall prosper” (Ps. 1:2-3). These words refer to the timelessness built into our humanity. Life’s winter will finally claim my physical frame, but ahead for each of us whose faith is in Christ there is another springtime, the resurrection.
1996 Christianity Today/LEADERSHIP Journal
