At this year’s clergy workshop, a denominational staff person hailed the virtues of lay ministry. He attempted to shock us with statements such as, “We are in a post-Christian, post-Constantinian era when Christianity is relegated to the sidelines of mainstream society and culture.” Furthermore, “If we clergy don’t unleash the laity to do ministry, as the early church did, then we will die as a denomination!”
Wake-up calls were quickly followed by descriptions of the cell-group model of developing lay leaders. Clergy are supposed to select about a half dozen strong lay persons to train as pastoral caregivers, outreach persons, etc. What still echoes in my mind is the suggestion that if I don’t do this, then my small church of 80 worshipers on Sunday will die!
Of course, such leadership workshops are accompanied by great collegial fellowship. We celebrated Holy Communion together.
Finally, we heard more about the growth potential of a ministry in which clergy equip and empower laity to do daily pastoral care (and the pastor remains available for crises).
After the final hymn of our two-day retreat, I drove home to the town of 250 people where I serve as pastor in the Lutheran church. It’s nothing like the environment I’ve just left. The lingering retreat aroma of fresh pine trees is abruptly interrupted by the smell of a dead skunk in the middle of the state route into town.
Still, I can’t contain the excitement of what could happen when we implement lay ministry in our church of about thirty families. So I stop to share all my newly acquired information with the lady at the post office. A strong supporter of my ministry, she is also my council’s evangelism person. Upon hearing the fiery excitement of my voice and the benefits of undershepherding ministries, the first words out of her mouth are, “Forget it, Pastor. Why do you think 80 percent of our budget goes to your compensation package?”
The wind knocked out of my sails, I realize that most people in my small congregation don’t want to be unleashed to do ministry. It’s not a matter of pastors like me stifling their creativity or their leadership potential within. It’s a matter of tired, exhausted people who want a shepherd.
Who wants to lead?
My congregation considers the annual council election on par with drawing lots to see who gets a root canal. Mine is a congregation of dual-income households with tired parents and overscheduled children. I’m lucky to get such people to show up for council once a month (with summers off) and for committee meetings four times a year, and to teach.
To suggest that such people have some sort of pent-up energy to do cell-group-style ministry is grabbing for straws. Ever since I’ve arrived, this congregation’s main objective has been to sustain a full-time, ordained pastor as their shepherd. I am that faithful shepherd. It remains a mysterious symbol of stability. They like my wearing the clerical collar and leading worship in traditional ways, with only occasional attempts to be seeker sensitive. This congregation expects me to be their highly visible, loving shepherd. Five hundred years of Reformation tradition solidifies such expectations.
I feel bad at times that recruiting church leaders is like twisting arms. I’ve had to threaten to cancel vacation Bible school before a director came forward-and often this person is a fairly new member of the church. Some committee and council positions have remained vacant. Attempts to shorten meetings, stick to the agenda, and set out bowls of candy are appreciated, but they don’t necessarily result in a Pentecost experience making people want to become church leaders.
I toss and turn at night, wondering why I can’t unleash my small congregation to be like that fiery, apostolic church I’ve read and heard so much about. Will this congregation die when I leave one day, due to lack of lay leadership development?
This type of burden feels like what Martin Luther called “the law.” Fortunately, the same council person who knocked the wind out of my sails after the clergy retreat also provided me with some gospel: “Pastor, you are not called to be the savior of this church or town. There is only one Savior, and you’re not him!”
She added, “If there is not energy or fire-in-the-belly to keep the church or town going when any of us leave, then maybe it is the Lord’s will that the town and its establishments close up. Meanwhile, don’t beat yourself up, Pastor, because something you learned at a workshop doesn’t work here. Continue loving us, preaching good sermons, teaching, and remaining available to us when we are in crisis, and you’ll be doing exactly what we called you to do.”
With those words of absolution, a heavy yoke is lifted from my shoulders.
We already have cell groups
In a congregationally governed church, pastors can push the envelope only so far. I’m learning when to back off.
As far as cell groups, I’ve come to realize we already have them. They are in the form of traditional families who meet weekly in the living rooms of the various patriarchs and matriarchs of the church. Surrogate family experiences are neither requested nor desired. Our adult Sunday school class is as good as it gets around here.
This church was without a pastor when they celebrated their one-hundredth anniversary. Without a shepherd to bring things together, everybody pitched in, worked hard, and developed one of the finest celebration events of this congregation’s history. Yet within a year of my arrival, the status quo was entrenched again, and the pastor became the hub of most church activity.
Henri Nouwen’s book In the Name of Jesus has helped me come to terms with the fact that in a society that rewards relevance as it is measured in bottom-line statistical data, the call of some Christians is to be irrelevant. Before I turn in every night, I pray that I might be a faithful witness and loving shepherd, even if irrelevant by church-growth standards. This way I can feel at peace and be prepared to turn in my final annual parochial report, if I should meet the Almighty Bishop of Bishops.
David Coffin is pastor of Trinity Evangelical Lutheran Church in Malinta, Ohio.
1996 by Christianity Today/LEADERSHIP, journal.
Last Updated: October 7, 1996
