Dear Pastor: It's Time We Had a Talk

I know that on this page, often my discussions come across as a bit harsh and abrasive. And you know what? Sometimes they are. I'm not really super at this communication thing and often choose less than imperfect means to express myself.

It's a fault, I admit it, and I am working to change that. I thank all of those patient enough to endure it.

So let's have a talk, shall we? A real one. About why it is that I keep hammering points home and going against the grain.

We've become a socially disconnected society, and the church, which once fulfilled a large role in the social structure of adults, has been a part of that. It's not the fault of pastors, even though it's tempting to say so. They're swimming hard against a cultural tide, and they endure massive criticism with scant praise. I get that part of it.

But if you will listen, if you will just TRY what I am about to say, I believe it will fundamentally change your ministry. And if it doesn't, just throw it away as one of those hair brained ideas, just as you would the book you bought off the discount rack at LifeWay and found less than fulfilling.

I'm speaking from a personal place here, so if you disagree with me, please do it respectfully. I will respond in kind.

Your congregants need to be heard. And not just the mental sticky notes, not just with a casserole delivered in time of need or the Christmas drive. Those things are great, yes, and they're essential, but not as essential as sitting down and finding out the things about your congregants that cannot be written down on paper.

Know them. Know their hopes, their dreams, their fears. Know their favorite baseball team, the kind of car they drive. And respect their politics even if you completely disagree. Every pastor I have ever known has learned the virtue of strategic silence. In getting to know your congregants, you may want to use that judiciously.

Realize that every congregant is a work in progress. If I have failed as a Christian, this has been my Achilles heel. I expect too much, expect everyone I encounter as a Christian to know the same things and have the same life experiences I do. That is an impossible expectation and is setting them up to fail.

Know WHY that person didn't put money in the offering plate. Know and understand the realities of people struggling to survive, who may remain silent because they don't want to be seen as complaining or begging. Know the reason why they didn't come to church, why they didn't give money when the missionaries came to town, why they couldn't buy that cake at the bake sale, or why their kids couldn't make it to summer. Know them, and encourage them. This doesn't have to be monetary support, sometimes the best thing you can do is just let them know that you care.

You are in a place to be powerful change agents, a position I wish I could have, but am increasingly understanding why I do not. In pursuing your doctorate, in meetings with deacons, in your outreach to the community, do not forget that young man who came in five minutes after the sermon started and left as the organist struck up the opening notes on the closing hymn because he has difficulty interacting with people and wanted to avoid the awkwardness.

He needs you. I need you. Jesus needs you.

And these things are far more important than the broken projector.

Blessings and peace.