I grew up going to a church where I thought the Pastor
was the greatest thing since “Big League Chew.”
He was the Preacher; “The Man of God.” When he got up to
preach, it didn’t matter what was going on around us, we glued our eyes to him
and hung on to his every word. We sat up straight, took notes, followed along
as best as we could as he skillfully raced along in his King James Bible,
reading every name and city with the precise pronunciation which surpassed
Alexander Scourby himself! If we fell asleep during his message we’d have Dad
to deal with when we got home. We went to the restroom before church started or
in case of dire emergencies, we went during the song service. We never walked
out during the invitation. We never were disruptive. We were taught that this
was the most important thing going on at that time. When it came to cleaning
the church, we made it our purpose that the toilets were never cleaned by the
Pastor. We made it our goal that he would not have to take out the trash.
Sweep, mop, dust, or even straighten the songbooks and papers in the pew. In
our eyes, the Pastor was the leader and his vision for the church was our
passion.
If
he wanted us to go door knocking on a particular street, we were there. If he
wanted us to sing a song, we sang. If he wanted us to do something off the cuff
we did it. We weren’t blind. We weren’t “yuppies.” We weren’t lapdogs. We were
kids who loved the Lord and realized the importance of the Pastor.
As I
grew older, I began to realize the brick wall that the Pastor was beating his
head against in my life. I was so set on listening to him that I forgot to practice
it. Don’t get me wrong, I had a great discipline at paying attention. My sermon
notes were great. I learned how to take notes. I even knew how to apply it to
my life. I just never acted upon it. I read my Bible. I prayed. I evangelized.
I was heavily involved in Christian service. I manned a bus route. I helped in
nursing homes. I preached in Junior Church. I sang in the choir. I helped take
the offering. I helped clean the church. I did all these things and yet I
didn’t do a thing at all when it came to Christian duty. I didn’t listen to secular music. I didn’t go
to movie houses. I didn’t stare at immodestly dressed girls. I didn’t get into
fights. I didn’t smoke, chew, drink, or even have friends that did. I didn’t
cuss. I was formatting my life by outside standards while inwardly I was
adrift. I was disillusioned at what the Christian Life was all about.
By
the time I left home for college, I was a totally different person. I was still
doing all the things above but I was learning that there was so much more to
the Christian life than just do. I became aware everyday of who I was
supposed to be. I began asking
myself this question “why do I want to do this particular action?” I saw that
most of my deeds were for self-glory and not for God’s pleasure. I was so used to doing things to be seen of
men that my worship was horizontal and not vertical. I had been living my life
as a farce and in so doing; I was taking God’s name in vain.
Years
passed and my walk with God was strong. I knew God had been molding me to be a
pastor. All my life, I was being molded and fashioned for this. God gave me
this calling even when I was a child. Some do not believe a child has the
capability or the reasoning to discern God’s will for their life. I can tell
you that the desire to pastor has been in me as long as I can remember. I knew
then and I know now that God wants me to pastor and to preach.
Now,
what I saw the pastor do and say growing up was totally different than what I
could say and do as I took my first pastorate.
I learned this early on in my life that what works in one place won’t
necessarily work in another. There are
differences between fundamental practices and personal fancies. The important thing that any pastor must
remember and adhere to is a strict interpretation of God’s Word. This will keep one from going off into
legalism or lasciviousness.
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