THE YOUNG PASTOR IN AN OLDER CHURCH

I lied to the pulpit committee. Well, it wasn’t an outright lie-it was perfected hyperbole.

“When you look at it, I have twenty-five years of pastoral experience,” I said. “My father pastored all of my life. I lived with my father. That should count for something!”

As I candidated for my first senior pastorate, I felt compelled to compensate for my then twenty-six years. Whether or not this convinced them, they called me.

It was not to be an easy church, though. They had been without a pastor nearly two years. The leadership of the church was worn, the members restless. And I was young.

I had graduated two years earlier from a seminary with a progressive, nontraditional approach to ministry. The school was not a training ground for pastors, per se, but more of a launching pad for ministry beyond the walls of the local church-the world was to be our parish.

Excited by this concept, I still didn’t want to make the mistake many seminarians make in their first parish: deciding to correct the church’s “wrong way” of doing ministry. I knew many young pastors failed to establish the relationship of trust so necessary for changing a congregation without destroying it.

One young minister, soon after his arrival, guided (or misguided) by his theology of worship and reverence for the sanctuary, removed the portrait of a former pastor that hung in the sanctuary. Bad move!

His ministry was quickly over.

Established congregations hold suspect the maturity and wisdom of young pastors. There is a definite age bias in this line of work. Youthfulness can be a disadvantage. Then again, I found that if the right approach is taken, youthfulness can actually enhance one’s ministry.

Modeling the Right Traits

I’ve heard it said that preaching is the only profession that does not require those entering it to examine the successes and failures of the masters. The point is that ministers should study the greats. The temptation in doing so, however, is that our ministry will merely mimic another’s.

I served my student ministry at Concord Church (where a few years later I would return as pastor when Dr. Gardner C. Taylor retired). As a student I was excited to serve with a man of Dr. Taylor’s reputation.

My excitement was tempered by a passing comment made to me by William Sloane Coffin, then senior minister of the Riverside Church in New York. He said that when young ministers model themselves after someone else, they almost always imitate the wrong thing. He spoke of countless young preachers mesmerized by Dr. Taylor’s pulpit eloquence who preached with their robes open, as did Dr. Taylor.

“Young man,” said Dr. Coffin, “It ain’t in the robe! It ain’t in the robe!”

Entering my first church, I toiled to write the perfect acceptance statement, and I included what I thought was an impressive quote of Charles Spurgeon, spoken when he was called to the New Park Street Church in London at the age of twenty.

Fresh from the country and a relatively young convert, Spurgeon had spoken earnestly: “There is but one answer to so loving and candid an invitation. I accept it. … Remember my youth and inexperience and pray that these may not hinder my usefulness. I trust also the remembrance of these will lead you to forgive mistakes I may make or unguarded words I may utter.”

I read Spurgeon’s words and looked at the congregation. Silence. Their faces said: Big deal! On my first attempt, I had not communicated. I silently wondered to God, Are you sure I should be here? This was not going to be easy.

Credibility and influence develop over time. I quickly learned that Dr. Taylor was right when he said, “One is not called to be pastor. One is called to become pastor.”

To Change or Not to Change?

How proactive should a new pastor be? There are two schools of thought:

1. Change everything you can quickly during the honeymoon.

2. Change absolutely nothing in the first year. Just preach and visit the people. Bide your time before suggesting any change.

I have found neither extreme works. While I knew I shouldn’t make many bold changes, when I entered my first church I saw some things clearly that had to change right away. Nearly two years without pastoral leadership had been costly. The liturgy had degenerated and, I felt, actually inhibited worship. The responsive reading, selected at random from the hymnal, had nothing to do with the text or sermon topic. The text was never mentioned unless the preacher introduced it in the sermon.

I felt it was important for the congregation to prayerfully reflect on the sermon text before I stepped up to preach. So I changed the order of service my first Sunday, making the sermon text the responsive reading, and I put it early enough in service so people could pray over it.

Other changes were introduced gradually. I discovered that one of my members was a recovering alcoholic who took only the Communion bread for fear the wine would cause him to relapse. I prayed about his alienation and remembered the Scripture, “If eating meat offend my brother, I will eat no more meat.”

I read that passage at the next Communion and set out a tray of grape juice for those who wished to make a choice. We emptied one grape juice tray the first week, two the next, and added more trays in later observances. We eventually switched to grape juice alone, but the change was deliberately gradual.

Changing from wine to grape juice was not easy for some, but with alcohol abuse on the rise, I felt it necessary.

Overall, the change was appreciated. One Sunday a member whom I would not have expected to say so, pulled me aside and said, “Good move, Reverend. There was a time in this church when people ignored the possibility of alcoholics here.”

Congregations respond better when they understand why change is necessary, as these were. And when people see change in terms of ministry, they aren’t as inclined to see it in terms of misery.

I also needed to reassure people that changes were not made to diminish the memory of former pastors nor to rewrite the church’s history. I recognized that people were experiencing something akin to mourning. No matter how gracious (or painful) the departure of the former pastor, institutional changes spawn anxiety. As the new pastor, I realized people’s need for both consolation and consultation. So I tried to be sensitive to their need to honor the past.

Congregations, however, need to allow new pastors freedom to be themselves, to feel comfortable. So I reassured the congregation from the outset: “I might do some things around here a bit differently, not because I disregard my predecessors, but simply because I am me.”

Using Unfamiliarity to Advantage

Young ministers can also get away with change if the change helps them, as newcomers, to perform better in ministry.

Our church had a problem in the way it handled new members. They were asked to join during a post-sermon invitation. They were then introduced to the congregation and immediately voted into the church.

Some of our members had theological objections to this practice. They felt new members ought to be prayed in, not voted in. I tended to agree, but instead of starting a theological conflict with those who were used to our membership procedure, I changed the rite, but for a more practical reason-my unfamiliarity with the congregation.

In fact, I did not know the 500 members already in the church. As a new member myself, I needed to become acquainted, outside of worship, with the congregation. Yet the procedure for receiving new members allowed no place for getting acquainted. Nor was there time for prospective members to ask questions about God, salvation, and the role and mission of this church.

So I began asking prospective members to meet me an hour or so before worship so I could get to know each of them. Then I could personally vouch for those who came before the congregation to be received into membership.

In some cases, then, we can use our unfamiliarity to justify changes. As ministers, we live in tension between chronos and kairos, between small windows of opportunity and large seasons of transition. Being a new minister provides both some chronos opportunities to be seized. But we also need to be attuned to the emerging ripeness of time (kairos) for the larger movements of the church.

Accessibility in Measured Doses

I remember one senior member asking, “Will all members of the congregation have direct access to you?” It was a genuine concern for her-and me-and I wanted to show the church that I intended to be pastor for everyone.

So I freed up my calendar (even though I didn’t have much of a calendar the first month) and invited all who wanted to meet with me to call the office for an appointment. It did not have to be a crisis; they could just come to talk. Many took me up on the offer.

In addition, during my early months I made a special effort to visit the sick and shut-in. I had a church officer accompany me to introduce me on the first visit. This helped me, in a more natural way, get to know both the officer and the person we visited.

This early accessibility helped me learn a great deal about the congregation. Soon my schedule heated up, and I had to limit my accessibility to leave time for study, meditation, family, and relaxation. So I’m glad I took advantage of that early period to see more people than I could later on.

Making Use of the Church’s History

A recently published souvenir journal for the church’s centennial celebration helped me greatly. The journal became my “second Bible.” Not only had the history been well recounted, but pictures of the members were included. I studied those pictures to make family connections and to associate names with faces. Some parishioners were amazed when I could greet them by name before we had been introduced.

“Mrs. Smith, how are you today?”

“You know my name?”

“Sure! How’s your son?”

The history also showed me that our community had gone through a transition in recent years, and as a result, many new people were moving into the area and coming to our church.

From my pastoral contacts, I could see that residents felt invaded by newcomers, whose needs and ideas of church were different. Although some newcomers had church experience elsewhere, the indigenous members doubted their long-term commitment. This tension had festered. When newcomers came into church leadership, suspicions were even more aroused.

I knew if I wanted to hold things together, I could not ignore this historical reality. After all, if I were not careful, I could be seen as an invading newcomer as well.

Within my first few months, I chaired three church meetings, including the annual meeting to elect officers and approve the annual budget, and then I had to appoint replacements for two vacant offices. Even though I didn’t know the congregation thoroughly, because I knew recent church history, I was able to name two members to the board whom everyone respected.

I also discovered that informal church history (the type not found in written records) can be revealing. I heard rumors about the drudgery of our church business meetings and board meetings, which lasted sometimes into early morning hours. Meetings were expected to be long and heated.

Knowing something about the past alerted me to work on changing the atmosphere. I addressed the situation publicly and worked to change people’s assumptions. On Sundays prior to meetings, I would announce, “I believe the Lord’s business can be carried out in a way that will honor his name.” I tried to bring a purposeful and serious spirit to them, yet sprinkle meetings with comfortable laughter.

We succeeded in limiting most meetings to an hour and a half. Members still had space on the agenda to bring up their concerns and comments, and the atmosphere improved considerably.

Using the Natural Advantages of Youth

A young pastor who can relate well to youth can strengthen the church’s youth ministry. This can be a key area in revitalizing the church.

Research suggests that many families join churches primarily because of the programs offered for youth. On the other hand, many people, rebelling against their own rigid upbringing, have decided their own children will not be forced to go to church. So these young people have no parental encouragement to attend church regularly. If churches now must minister directly to children and cannot automatically expect to reach them through their parents or guardians, a younger pastor may have an advantage there.

I’ve tried to give special emphasis to youth. This means, among other things, calling attention to the activities of our young people. Acting in high school plays, athletic ability, and academic achievements are all gifts from God and ought to be affirmed in the congregation. I also try to get access to school newspapers and community bulletins to honor the achievements of our youth.

The new pastor’s own youthfulness can link young people to the church and show them how God can move with committed people, regardless of their age.

Build Connections with Senior Members

Senior members are often anxious about a new pastor: Does the coming of a young pastor signal the fading away of seasoned soldiers? Will the new pastor have time for the older generation? Will the church become preoccupied with the present and forget the past?

I don’t want to overlook the treasure of experience that age can provide. Time can teach so much that cannot be gleaned from classroom notes or lectures.

Every Saturday night, I talk with a 75-year-old friend, a retired minister. We don’t always have some burning issue to discuss, but we have a relationship to share. He reminds me from time to time, “As you are, I was. As I am, you will be.” His frank counsel has been a blessing.

One Sunday we celebrated the church’s first Senior’s Day, and my retired friend was the guest preacher. Our senior members led worship and sat together as a group. After the service, they were the church’s special guests at a dinner held in their honor.

It was an important symbol of the reality that a young pastor needed and respected the senior saints.

When They Despise Your Youth

Some people, I discovered, tried to use my youthfulness against me, no matter how I tried to allay their fears. One man, barely 40 years old himself, liked to refer to me as “Young man,” and after a while, I realized it was not a term of affection but an attack on my pastoral authority.

Eventually I told him, “I know I’m a young man, but right now I need to talk with you as your pastor.” We came to a good understanding.

Others may think young pastors want to hear about the shortcomings of former pastors. Here again, I found the knowledge of the church’s history important. When a parishioner would criticize a predecessor, I responded by recalling some of the positive influences of the former pastor: “Before he came, we didn’t have . . . and now we do” or “I’m glad he had the foresight to provide . . .” I knew that the day will come when I will be someone else’s predecessor.

My success at a church will not depend on how I compare with previous ministers. It’s better to focus on the will of God and the needs of the people during my tenure of service.

On the other hand, I need to remember that not all criticisms that come my way are due to my youthfulness and inexperience. Some wounds linger from years before. I didn’t realize this when I tried to pull people together in a symbol of commitment to the church’s future. Some reacted strongly. At first I took their reaction personally: They don’t like me. They won’t give me a fair chance. But later through prayer, reflection, and conversation with the individuals, I learned that I had stumbled onto an area remaining from an earlier conflict.

As a young pastor, I know I will make mistakes. But Martin Buber’s schema of I-Thou relationships has helped me: Pastoring is not something done to people. It is done among people. If you treat members as adversaries, they will soon become such.

And in most cases, youthful idealism can help here: I made the idealistic presumption I had no enemies in the church. If people are mad, I reasoned, it couldn’t be me-I just started!

All of these principles have helped me get a grip on my situation. But one in particular, which I learned from Sam McKinney, pastor of Mount Zion Baptist Church in Seattle, is essential in ministry, especially for a young pastor. He tells this story on himself:

Having watched his grandfather farm for some time, he decided he would take the mules out to plow the field by himself. He hitched up the team just as he had watched his grandfather do. Then he cracked the whip. Much to his horror, the team ran off into the field trampling everything in sight.

His grandfather’s sobering remark stays with me: “Remember not to crack that whip until you are sure you have hold of the reins.”

For a young pastor in particular, the point of effectiveness is not in cracking the whip but in being synchronized with the team.