Category Archives: Faith and Practice

Pride and the Pastorate

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As a pastor, I am keenly aware of the sins with which I struggle.  It makes me a little more tolerant when those around me struggle in sin.  I spend a good amount of time in prayer every Sunday morning, asking that God would somehow use this earthen vessel, with all its blemishes, to bring Him glory and to proclaim His goodness.  I beg that my sins won’t come in the way of the Holiness of God.  I so identify with Isaiah, standing in the presence of the Almighty God, who said, “Woe is me.   For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips.”

Fortunately for me, I struggle with those sins which are more socially acceptable.  I don’t struggle with any addiction, I’m not tempted to cheat on my wife, nor have I any plans to commit murder.  But do I get angry easily, I hold grudges well, I’m quick to judge and slow to forgive.  The longer I deal with these sins, the more I find that while they may be “respectable sins,” they still run deep, they stain every little thing I do, and the “old man” within me will fight tooth and nail to keep them in his arsenal.

At the heart of it all is my pride.  It is easy for pastors to grow proud.  We have a captive audience every week as we delve into the deep waters of Scripture and speak to the hearts and minds of our congregations.  People come to us for counsel.  Our opinions are respected because of our position in the community.  We accept this calling humbly, knowing that it is God’s work, not ours; we are but sheep-dogs for the Good Shepherd.  Humility comes with being a pastor, but a pastor can still take great pride in his own humility.  “Look how humble I am!  I don’t need your praise for all my accomplishments; just knowing you know how humble I am is enough for me.” 

So when God goes about curing me of the sin of pride, it is a painful process.  Like drawing poison from a deep wound, God draws pride out of my heart, but I find the healing worse than the sickness.  Losing my selfish pride means learning to live only for the glory of God; can I live without the praise of man?  Losing my selfish pride means learning to live without being in control of my life (as if I ever was); can I trust God with my life?  Losing my selfish pride means learning to suffer the same shame and humiliation as my Savior; do I love him enough to be so identified with him?

All I know is that I cannot overcome this sin on my own, and I will not overcome it quickly.  Even in my pride I recognize the fact that I am too weak to overcome sin on my own, I need and trust in the power of God’s Holy Spirit to strengthen me for this battle.  Still, I take comfort in the teaching of the Westminster Confession:

They who are effectually called and regenerated, having a new heart and a new spirit created in them, are further sanctified, really and personally, through the virtue of Christ’s death and resurrection, by his Word and Spirit dwelling in them; the dominion of sin is destroyed, and the several lusts thereof are more and more weakened and mortified, and they more and more quickened and strengthened, in all saving graces, to the practice of true holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord.
This sanctification is throughout the in the whole man, yet imperfect in this life: there abideth still some remnants of corruption in every part, whense ariseth a continual and irreconcilable war, the flesh lusting against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh.
In which war, although the remaining corruption for a time may such prevail, yet, through the continual supply of strength from the sanctifying Spirit of Christ, the regenerate part doth overcome: and so the saints grow in grace, perfecting holiness in the fear of God.

Lord, how I need your Holy Spirit to continue your healing and sanctifying work in my life.  May I take up arms in this battle against the sin in my heart, strengthened by your Word and Spirit, so that I may grow in grace, perfecting holiness in the fear of your holy name.

SDG

Running Man

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I used to be a runner.   There was a time when it was nothing for me to go on a 10 mile run. I looked forward to it, actually.  I ran Cross-Country and Track in High School, went to state in both all four years.  I  held (and might still have) the Augusta High School Cross-Country Record for teh 5k at 16:04.  I lived and breathed running.

Now I’m just lucky to live and breath.  Since those High School days I’ve run off and on.  In 2006 I ran a half marathon, and still plan to run a full marathon this year or next, but I cannot call myself a runner.  I jog, plod, pound my way around town, usually after sunset so as not to frighten small children at the sight of an overweight ogre chasing them down the street.

Over the past few years I’ve blamed my job, my children, or just about anything else under the sun for my lack of discipline in running.  The truth is, I’m just lazy.  I’d rather sit in the recliner with a soda and chips and watch the boob-toob whlie I slowly and methodically atrophy.  I’ve had scares that have prompted some feeble attempts at running again; my dad’s health issues before his death, the expensive suit pants that no longer fit, the jabbing comments from my 10 year old daughter. 

I’m trying again.  I still want to run a marathon.  There is a flat marathon this spring called “Marathon to Marathon” (creative, I know), which starts in Storm Lake, Iowa, and finishes in, wait for it, Marathon, IA.  There is also the Sioux City Marathon this fall – not flat.  I have also got plans to go hiking this summer in the Colorado Rockies with some friends, and running will help me lose the weight and build the lung strength for that trek.  Then, I am making plans now to attend my 20 year High School reunion this fall – I want to at least be recognizable.

So I’m running again.  Not that the deck isn’t stacked against me.  I chose to start running in January, when the temperature never gets above 10 degrees, and there’s at least a foot of snow on the ground, and it will stay there until March.  I’ve got a treadmill, but I hate it.  Nevermind the shock that each foot stroke causes the body, give me a dirt road any day.  It’s the fact that I run for 30 minutes and go nowhere.  I can run on the roads for hours with no ipod and be perfectly fine – I’ve got plenty to think about.  But the treadmill is simply mind-numbing monotony – too much of it will drive you insane.

I realize though, that the treadmill is a valuable training tool, the only option available in this climate.  I can build a good foundation so that when the thaw does come, I will be ready to hit the streets.

I guess that’s what this journey of discipleship is sometimes like, too.  There are times when God’s Spirit keeps teaching the same lesson to our hearts again and again.  We think we’ve got it down, but we keep covering the same old gound.  We want to move on to bigger and better things, but we feel stuck in a rut, like a gerbil on the wheel, going round and round.

We think that such Spiritual monotony is fruitless and defective, but could it be that God is strenghtening us for the real adventure that is just around the corner?

Friends, sometimes the training is nothing like the race.  Sometimes its the simple act of showing up and saying, “Here am I, Lord,” is what we have to learn, so that we’re there when God says, “Whom shall I send.”  You may feel that your prayers are going nowhere, that the invitations and pleadings to your friends are falling on deaf ears, that all those chapters you’ve read from God’s word are just a jumble; but remember, “the one who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ” (Phil 1:6).

Keep praying, keep sharing, keep on keeping on, and “let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith” (Hebrews 12:1-2).

SDG