I am rapidly becoming a Facebook junkie and I've discovered I have a lot of company. Pastors are popping up all over Facebook. It has become an alternative outlet for ministry, not to mention a great way to advertise books, cd's and - Duh! - blogs. What a natural and fun way to keep up with all kinds of people, especially celebrities we would not otherwise be able to meet, much less talk to.
People seem more inclined to talk with one another on Facebook than any other medium I've witnessed thus far. They are more open about themselves, more willing to reveal details and certainly more willing to talk to total strangers - not always a good thing.
From a pastor's point of view, this quality of openness on Facebook has had a fascinating consequence. I find that people are more willing to be themselves before the whole world on Facebook than they are willing to be before a handful of people in church. I suppose this quality has always been with us. Church is the one place where we really want to put out the best impression for general consumption. We tend to conduct ourselves according to what we think people expect of us. So when someone asks, "How do you do?" we wouldn't really tell him how we are doing, and we don't really expect someone to tell us. It's all a formality, you understand. Not that we are purposefully trying to be deceptive; we are just putting out our public selves for all to see, the same public self that most often goes on display at work or in class.
Facebook is another matter. For some reason, people take off the mask when they sit down to the keyboard. I've learned a lot more about people from watching them on Facebook than I ever learned about them in church. I learn their real likes and dislikes, their tastes in music, clothes, politics and the world in general. I learn their language - the kind they would not dare use in church. I learn who their real friends are, and who they are not; who they love, and who wishes they had someone to love, or to love them.
What fascinates me the most is that people who wouldn't tell a soul these things in church don't mind telling the whole world on the internet. Now, everybody knows. The pastor knows. God knows - not that He needed Facebook, anyway.
All this raises a question in my mind: Why would anyone be one way in the privacy of church and another way before the whole blooming world on Facebook? And as long as we're not keeping secrets, what's the point of behaving one way in church (where only a few people can read us) and another way on the internet, where everybody can see us?
Maybe the answer is just too obvious. After all, if the life I'm living on Facebook is not one I can live in church, why am I living it on Facebook in the first place? Maybe the answer is that I already know this. And maybe, just maybe, I know better but I don't want those people in church to find out. Maybe I can keep my "public" life propped up in church while my real life goes on in the rest of the world. And maybe the people in church won't find out. Maybe they don't read Facebook. Just maybe.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Monday, February 1, 2010
What's a Day Off?
I'm exhausted. I've arrived home at 8:15 p.m. after a day full of meetings and errands; shuttling my parents to various places, doing their shopping and watching after my dementia-laden dad. Of the dozen or so things I had on my "to do" list, I accomplished most, but not all. I'm just too tired. And today was my day off.
Many pastors have "days off" just like mine. We only work "one day a week," or so we're told. We should be fresh. We don't punch a time card. We have lots of time for an errand or two. Or three. Or a dozen.
Preachers have so much free time, so the legend goes, that they must be instructed in the proper use of it - some people think. I had a deacon once who interrupted my study time, smack in the middle of it, to - get this- instruct me on how to use my time in the study. To facilitate his "lesson" he brought along a dozen pages of photocopied sermons from John Gill on how Gill used his time. Oh yes, I'm sure Gill had the same kind of routine pastors have these days: the phone ringing, the computer developing a glitch, and deacons arriving to waste their time. Well, maybe he had the deacons.
The truth is that the average pastor spends so much time being the pastor and doing pastoral things that he has a hard time finding time to do family things. The average pastor spends about sixty hours a week on the job. That's sixty hours on top of whatever other job he may have if he happens to be bi-vocational. There is a never ending urge to do something else, and there is always something else to do.
There was actually a time when I had a day off. I used to take off Mondays back when I had a church large enough to afford me taking one day a week to tend to my family. That was before we were missionaries, before we were church planters, and before the deacon arrived to complain that I wasn't spending more time in the study.
No, I wasn't. And neither do most pastors. They have to get out of the study because "study" is only a part of the job. Staying in the seclusion of the pastor's office is the surest way to kill the church. There aren't enough prospects in the pastor's study; not enough lost people to witness to, not enough to invite to church; not enough people to pastor.
So the pastor may be out of the study, but he is never out of the job, not even on his "day off." That's why I'm typing out this post on my laptop at home. My wife urged me to buy it so I wouldn't have to travel back to office to work on all the things that have to be done. I'm still tired and now it's 10:15 p.m. on my day off. I still have not finished editing the article I am writing for Regular Baptist Press. It will have to wait until tomorrow along with work on the Sunday morning message that I meant to start today. The job never ends.
Many pastors have "days off" just like mine. We only work "one day a week," or so we're told. We should be fresh. We don't punch a time card. We have lots of time for an errand or two. Or three. Or a dozen.
Preachers have so much free time, so the legend goes, that they must be instructed in the proper use of it - some people think. I had a deacon once who interrupted my study time, smack in the middle of it, to - get this- instruct me on how to use my time in the study. To facilitate his "lesson" he brought along a dozen pages of photocopied sermons from John Gill on how Gill used his time. Oh yes, I'm sure Gill had the same kind of routine pastors have these days: the phone ringing, the computer developing a glitch, and deacons arriving to waste their time. Well, maybe he had the deacons.
The truth is that the average pastor spends so much time being the pastor and doing pastoral things that he has a hard time finding time to do family things. The average pastor spends about sixty hours a week on the job. That's sixty hours on top of whatever other job he may have if he happens to be bi-vocational. There is a never ending urge to do something else, and there is always something else to do.
There was actually a time when I had a day off. I used to take off Mondays back when I had a church large enough to afford me taking one day a week to tend to my family. That was before we were missionaries, before we were church planters, and before the deacon arrived to complain that I wasn't spending more time in the study.
No, I wasn't. And neither do most pastors. They have to get out of the study because "study" is only a part of the job. Staying in the seclusion of the pastor's office is the surest way to kill the church. There aren't enough prospects in the pastor's study; not enough lost people to witness to, not enough to invite to church; not enough people to pastor.
So the pastor may be out of the study, but he is never out of the job, not even on his "day off." That's why I'm typing out this post on my laptop at home. My wife urged me to buy it so I wouldn't have to travel back to office to work on all the things that have to be done. I'm still tired and now it's 10:15 p.m. on my day off. I still have not finished editing the article I am writing for Regular Baptist Press. It will have to wait until tomorrow along with work on the Sunday morning message that I meant to start today. The job never ends.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
"See Me Now or See Me Later"
I have a part-time job as a support worker in a funeral home. Don't laugh. It's a good job for a pastor. As a matter of fact, I work with several pastors, men who, like me are looking for a way to save for future retirement. So I carry two sets of business cards, one for my church and another for the funeral home, and that has created some interesting (if odd) situations.
A few days ago, I was lurking about in the neighborhood, looking for an opportunity to invite someone to church, when I stopped in to see a friend in a local business. Larry is a sign maker in our town, a very good one who is responsible for creating our church sign and logo. I've been after Larry for the past three years to come to church without any success whatsoever. In spite of that, we have maintained a very good and relaxed friendship. I'd love to see Larry come to Christ.
When I showed up at his business door, I was surprised to see him busy at his desk. He noticed me and immediately waved to have me come in.
As I sat across from Larry at his desk, my mind raced for a way to invite him to church once more. Then, I thought of my business cards. "I have something to show you," I said as I placed two cards, one of each, on the desk. "Here are my business cards," I explained as Larry leaned forward for a better view. "One is for my church. The other is for the funeral home. You can see me now, or see me later."
The startled expression on Larry's face was priceless. He sat back for a moment to collect his thoughts, and replied, "I promise you, I will visit your church within two weeks. I can't come next Sunday - I'm already tied up - but I will be there the next Sunday. I promise."
Believe me, this is an approach I'm going to use again!
Then Larry gave back my business card for the funeral home. "I'll keep your church card," he said, "You can have this one." He seemed relieved just to have the funeral home card out of his hand. Imagine that. I don't know how many customers I will pick up for the funeral home, but if I can use their cards to motivate more people to church, I'll use them all the time with the same explanation: "You can see me now, or see me later."
A few days ago, I was lurking about in the neighborhood, looking for an opportunity to invite someone to church, when I stopped in to see a friend in a local business. Larry is a sign maker in our town, a very good one who is responsible for creating our church sign and logo. I've been after Larry for the past three years to come to church without any success whatsoever. In spite of that, we have maintained a very good and relaxed friendship. I'd love to see Larry come to Christ.
When I showed up at his business door, I was surprised to see him busy at his desk. He noticed me and immediately waved to have me come in.
As I sat across from Larry at his desk, my mind raced for a way to invite him to church once more. Then, I thought of my business cards. "I have something to show you," I said as I placed two cards, one of each, on the desk. "Here are my business cards," I explained as Larry leaned forward for a better view. "One is for my church. The other is for the funeral home. You can see me now, or see me later."
The startled expression on Larry's face was priceless. He sat back for a moment to collect his thoughts, and replied, "I promise you, I will visit your church within two weeks. I can't come next Sunday - I'm already tied up - but I will be there the next Sunday. I promise."
Believe me, this is an approach I'm going to use again!
Then Larry gave back my business card for the funeral home. "I'll keep your church card," he said, "You can have this one." He seemed relieved just to have the funeral home card out of his hand. Imagine that. I don't know how many customers I will pick up for the funeral home, but if I can use their cards to motivate more people to church, I'll use them all the time with the same explanation: "You can see me now, or see me later."
Sunday, January 17, 2010
So Why Are We Here?
Every church has to have a reason for its own existence. Yes, the Great Commission is the reason in terms of sharing the gospel and reaching the lost. But in a practical sense, church members need to understand why their particular church should exist. Many churches, especially small ones, struggle with this issue. They need a reason for being, and being there just for the sake of the denominational name is not enough. As a result, many small churches cannot and do not survive.
Our own church has had to come to terms with this question now that our roof has caved in. Things were tough enough without the roof falling. We've had all the aches, pains and struggles associated with planting and growing a church. What's more, there are always larger churches where it's easier, more convenient and a lot more attractive for people to attend. How could we ever hope to compete? This has caused some necessary and very useful soul searching. Like every other small church in the world, we have to find a way to meet the spiritual and practical needs of the public we are trying to reach. We need to find our place and establish our identity. When we do that, we will fill our niche. And we will grow.
Our own church has had to come to terms with this question now that our roof has caved in. Things were tough enough without the roof falling. We've had all the aches, pains and struggles associated with planting and growing a church. What's more, there are always larger churches where it's easier, more convenient and a lot more attractive for people to attend. How could we ever hope to compete? This has caused some necessary and very useful soul searching. Like every other small church in the world, we have to find a way to meet the spiritual and practical needs of the public we are trying to reach. We need to find our place and establish our identity. When we do that, we will fill our niche. And we will grow.
Friday, January 8, 2010
What Do You Do When the Roof Falls?
Our roof fell in. Seriously. About three weeks ago, some of our people came to the church for the usual youth ministry when they discovered water dripping, running and pouring into our auditorium. Investigation revealed that two forty-eight foot rafters had snapped and caved under the weight of ice and water on our roof. For reasons known only to the Lord, water failed to run off our formerly flat, slightly angled roof and began to form a pond about twenty-five feet across and about two or more feet deep. When all that water froze, the roof could not stand up to the pressure. So it gave way, puncturing the upstairs ceiling and forever changing our majestic old building.
So what do we do now? Frankly, we don't know. We have insurance and we've had emergency repairs to keep the water out and the building up. But from this point going forward, again only the Lord knows. We have to make a lot of decisions with (hopefully) an understanding insurance company. But we are a small church - a recent church plant -and our resources are quite limited.
If you are interested in helping, knowing more about us, or praying for us I would like to hear from you. The first thing we have to do under the preacher's roof is to figure out a way to keep the roof up.
We will let you know how things develop.
So what do we do now? Frankly, we don't know. We have insurance and we've had emergency repairs to keep the water out and the building up. But from this point going forward, again only the Lord knows. We have to make a lot of decisions with (hopefully) an understanding insurance company. But we are a small church - a recent church plant -and our resources are quite limited.
If you are interested in helping, knowing more about us, or praying for us I would like to hear from you. The first thing we have to do under the preacher's roof is to figure out a way to keep the roof up.
We will let you know how things develop.
Monday, December 21, 2009
The Fat Man and His Trash
We never taught our kids to believe in Santa Claus. We just taught them the obvious truth: that Santa Claus was as believable as Bugs Bunny. As a result, our family enjoyed the secular side of the holiday season without taking any of it seriously. The biblical account was serious and we never joked about the birth of Jesus. But Santa was quite another matter.
The result was some comical, unintended consequences - sort of unintended, anyway. Since our kids knew that "Santa Claus" was not to be taken seriously, any time they spotted a man dressed as Santa, they pointed out his presence with their own label. I'm not sure which of our three started it, but they began to refer to every Santa they saw as "the Fat Man." Not very complimentary, but with dead-on accuracy. And since his ever present bag of toys loosely resembled a Hefty bag left at the curb, Santa's load was designated "the trash."
Thereafter, we could never go into a mall, department store, or past a Salvation Army bell ringer without hearing, "There's the Fat Man and his trash!" Our son who's never had a quiet bone in his body would sound the declaration at ear-splitting decibels just to make sure that Santa got the message. Naturally, Santa objected. So did the parents who shifted nervously in line while waiting to take their little ones to pay homage to the Fat Man.
We have no idea how many children saw the light in that moment of revelation (or how many stuck the parents later with the question , "What's the big idea of lying to me all these years?"), but we didn't care. Whereas normally I would have turned crimson with our kids' public exposure of the overweight-department-store-employee-turned-Santa, this time, I smiled and agreed, "That's right!" and kept walking. It wasn't long before our kids became evangelistic and convinced their friends that Santa Claus was indeed "the Fat Man and his trash." Today, our children are ages 32, 30 and 22. They still react to the Fat Man every time they see him. And their evangelism isn't over. We have grandkids now, and I can't wait for their own moment of truth.
The result was some comical, unintended consequences - sort of unintended, anyway. Since our kids knew that "Santa Claus" was not to be taken seriously, any time they spotted a man dressed as Santa, they pointed out his presence with their own label. I'm not sure which of our three started it, but they began to refer to every Santa they saw as "the Fat Man." Not very complimentary, but with dead-on accuracy. And since his ever present bag of toys loosely resembled a Hefty bag left at the curb, Santa's load was designated "the trash."
Thereafter, we could never go into a mall, department store, or past a Salvation Army bell ringer without hearing, "There's the Fat Man and his trash!" Our son who's never had a quiet bone in his body would sound the declaration at ear-splitting decibels just to make sure that Santa got the message. Naturally, Santa objected. So did the parents who shifted nervously in line while waiting to take their little ones to pay homage to the Fat Man.
We have no idea how many children saw the light in that moment of revelation (or how many stuck the parents later with the question , "What's the big idea of lying to me all these years?"), but we didn't care. Whereas normally I would have turned crimson with our kids' public exposure of the overweight-department-store-employee-turned-Santa, this time, I smiled and agreed, "That's right!" and kept walking. It wasn't long before our kids became evangelistic and convinced their friends that Santa Claus was indeed "the Fat Man and his trash." Today, our children are ages 32, 30 and 22. They still react to the Fat Man every time they see him. And their evangelism isn't over. We have grandkids now, and I can't wait for their own moment of truth.
Friday, December 4, 2009
"The Fun Part of Christmas"
I had been pastor only a short time when I made what could have been a fatal error. I blew the whistle on Santa Claus. Actually, I blew the whistle on the parents. It all happened very unintentionally during a Sunday morning message in the midst of Christmas season. Somewhere in the middle of an illustration, I made the passing comment that my wife and I never taught our kids to believe in Santa Claus. Gasps, looks of surprise and dismay quickly informed me that I had committed a major boo-boo. That's when I learned that most of the parents in our church regularly taught their children to look for Santa Claus. Not only did I let the cat out of the bag, I destroyed the "bag" altogether. Parents were faced with having to explain to children whether Santa was indeed a real person or not. I don't know if some parents ever forgave me, and I wisely chose not to ask.
Santa Claus was never a major issue in our family because, early in our marriage, my wife and I decided how we were going to teach our children. We did not go to war against Santa. I did not preach against him, and I did not teach him either. Whenever our children asked about Santa Claus, we gave them the same answer together:
"Santa Claus is the fun part of Christmas."
It occurred to us that children enjoy fantasy and fairy tales every time they turn on the TV to the Saturday morning cartoons. But when is the last time you ever heard a sermon against Bugs Bunny or Elmer Fudd? Or Daffy Duck? Or Mickey Mouse? We don't waste time preaching against those characters because they are such obvious fantasy that we expect our children to know they are make-believe.
Why not treat Santa Claus the same way? Yes, I know Santa Claus hearkens back to St. Nicholas, but kids these days do not know that. They associate Santa with Rudolph, Frosty and Snowman, and Tim Allen ("The Santa Clause" movie). Bugs, Daffy and the Road Runner are for fun, and so is Santa Claus. Don't let him out of that box. Don't deprive the children of having fun with all the make-believe fun things of the season, but do not allow the fun things to take on a greater reality either. Let the kids know "We want you to have fun during Christmas, and Santa is for fun."
Santa is for fun, but the Bible is the truth - and we never confused truth with fantasy. We never taught our children that Santa was real. Jesus is real. Santa is for fun, but the Bible is real. The gospel is real. Our children could enjoy all the cartoons and holiday specials. We could decorate the house and give all the presents. We could laugh at all the Santa Claus movies. But when we opened the Bible or went to church, we left the fantasy behind. As our children grew, the fantasy subsided and reality replaced the make believe.
We never complained to our children about Santa Claus, and we never lied to them about him either. They believed us when we said, "Santa is the fun part of Christmas." And when we taught them the gospel, they believed us then as well. I'm glad we didn't have to apologize for anything we taught them. I'm glad they learned the difference between having fun and having the truth.
Santa Claus was never a major issue in our family because, early in our marriage, my wife and I decided how we were going to teach our children. We did not go to war against Santa. I did not preach against him, and I did not teach him either. Whenever our children asked about Santa Claus, we gave them the same answer together:
"Santa Claus is the fun part of Christmas."
It occurred to us that children enjoy fantasy and fairy tales every time they turn on the TV to the Saturday morning cartoons. But when is the last time you ever heard a sermon against Bugs Bunny or Elmer Fudd? Or Daffy Duck? Or Mickey Mouse? We don't waste time preaching against those characters because they are such obvious fantasy that we expect our children to know they are make-believe.
Why not treat Santa Claus the same way? Yes, I know Santa Claus hearkens back to St. Nicholas, but kids these days do not know that. They associate Santa with Rudolph, Frosty and Snowman, and Tim Allen ("The Santa Clause" movie). Bugs, Daffy and the Road Runner are for fun, and so is Santa Claus. Don't let him out of that box. Don't deprive the children of having fun with all the make-believe fun things of the season, but do not allow the fun things to take on a greater reality either. Let the kids know "We want you to have fun during Christmas, and Santa is for fun."
Santa is for fun, but the Bible is the truth - and we never confused truth with fantasy. We never taught our children that Santa was real. Jesus is real. Santa is for fun, but the Bible is real. The gospel is real. Our children could enjoy all the cartoons and holiday specials. We could decorate the house and give all the presents. We could laugh at all the Santa Claus movies. But when we opened the Bible or went to church, we left the fantasy behind. As our children grew, the fantasy subsided and reality replaced the make believe.
We never complained to our children about Santa Claus, and we never lied to them about him either. They believed us when we said, "Santa is the fun part of Christmas." And when we taught them the gospel, they believed us then as well. I'm glad we didn't have to apologize for anything we taught them. I'm glad they learned the difference between having fun and having the truth.
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